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78

The clock on the mantle-shelf in the hall struck one in the morning. Old Stanislas sat before the fire dozing, and now and then putting on some more fuel, when the door leading from the master's apartments was softly opened and the unfortunate man himself entered the hall. The old servant, half asleep, rubbed his eyes and exclaimed, "Why, master, have you not gone to bed yet?"

"Do not make a noise, my dear old friend," said the master in a pleasant tone of voice; "I feel so happy today that I cannot close my eyes." And he sat down in a large chair before the fire, smiling to himself, joyful even unto tears.

"Ah, cry! poor master, cry!" thought Stanislas. "Perhaps you will cry away your evil eye!"

"If heaven would but grant me what I wish," said the master, "I would ask for nothing more. I have lived for thirty years alone, like a hermit or a criminal, and yet I have committed no crime nor wilfully injured a living creature. And all through my unhappy eyes!"

His face, so smiling a moment before, assumed its usual expression of sorrow; but it soon passed away, as a ray of hope again lighted up the gloom.

"My dear old friend," he began, and Stanislas looked