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Rh these words: "Yes, my sinful fire has laid this dwelling in ashes, my wicked impetuosity has murdered the happiness of this beloved house."

"Oh my unhappy son!" exclaimed the old man as he endeavoured to reach that apartment; but Edmond advanced immediately, sank down before him and embraced his knees. "Can you forgive? can you still love me?" cried he in violent emotion; "I, I, wretch that I am, have flung the brand into this house, I have rendered you and my sister miserable, I am indeed the cause of your death. Oh most gracious, mildest of men, with what a torn heart do I lie here at your feet, unworthy to embrace them, unworthy of the dust.—"

The old man raised, pressed him to his heart and said: "Not so, my son, we are not to criticise and blame the ways of destiny in so short-sighted a manner. It was you, as I well know, who delivered me from the hands of the incendiaries. Your heart has remained to me; those walls, this