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yet。 You would bring to her the atmosphere of the court； she would see
in your face the reflection of the things of life； and you would add
to the bitterness of her regret。 Have pity on a weakness which God
Himself forgave to His Son when He took our nature upon Him。 What
merit would there be in conquering if we had no adversary？ Permit her
confessor or me； two old men whose worn…out lives cause her no pain；
to prepare her for this unlooked…for meeting； for emotions which the
Abbe Birotteau has required her to renounce。 But； in the things of
this world there is an invisible thread of divine purpose which
religion alone can see； and since you have come perhaps you are led by
some celestial star of the moral world which leads to the tomb as to
the manger〃
He then told me； with that tempered eloquence which falls like dew
upon the heart； that for the last six months the countess had suffered
daily more and more； in spite of Monsieur Origet's care。 The doctor
had come to Clochegourde every evening for two months； striving to
rescue her from death； for her one cry had been； 〃Oh； save me！〃 〃To
heal the body the heart must first be healed；〃 the doctor had
exclaimed one day。
〃As the illness increased； the words of this poor woman； once so
gentle； have grown bitter；〃 said the Abbe。 〃She calls on earth to keep
her； instead of asking God to take her； then she repents these murmurs
against the divine decree。 Such alternations of feeling rend her heart
and make the struggle between body and soul most horrible。 Often the
body triumphs。 'You have cost me dear；' she said one day to Jacques
and Madeleine； but in a moment； recalled to God by the look on my
face； she turned to Madeleine with these angelic words； 'The happiness
of others is the joy of those who cannot themselves be happy；'and
the tone with which she said them brought tears to my eyes。 She falls；
it is true； but each time that her feet stumble she rises higher
towards heaven。〃
Struck by the tone of the successive intimations chance had sent me；
and which in this great concert of misfortunes were like a prelude of
mournful modulations to a funereal theme； the mighty cry of expiring
love； I cried out： 〃Surely you believe that this pure lily cut from
earth will flower in heaven？〃
〃You left her still a flower；〃 he answered； 〃but you will find her
consumed； purified by the forces of suffering； pure as a diamond
buried in the ashes。 Yes； that shining soul； angelic star； will issue
glorious from the clouds and pass into the kingdom of the Light。〃
As I pressed the hand of the good evangelist； my heart overflowing
with gratitude； the count put his head； now entirely white； out of the
door and immediately sprang towards me with signs of surprise。
〃She was right！ He is here！ 'Felix； Felix； Felix has come！' she kept
crying。 My dear friend；〃 he continued； beside himself with terror；
〃death is here。 Why did it not take a poor madman like me with one
foot in the grave？〃
I walked towards the house summoning my courage； but on the threshold
of the long antechamber which crossed the house and led to the lawn；
the Abbe Birotteau stopped me。
〃Madame la comtesse begs you will not enter at present；〃 he said to
me。
Giving a glance within the house I saw the servants coming and going；
all busy； all dumb with grief； surprised perhaps by the orders Manette
gave them。
〃What has happened？〃 cried the count； alarmed by the commotion； as
much from fear of the coming event as from the natural uneasiness of
his character。
〃Only a sick woman's fancy；〃 said the abbe。 〃Madame la comtesse does
not wish to receive monsieur le vicomte as she now is。 She talks of
dressing； why thwart her？〃
Manette came in search of Madeleine； whom I saw leave the house a few
moments after she had entered her mother's room。 We were all； Jacques
and his father； the two abbes and I； silently walking up and down the
lawn in front of the house。 I looked first at Montbazon and then at
Azay； noticing the seared and yellow valley which answered in its
mourning （as it ever did on all occasions） to the feelings of my
heart。 Suddenly I beheld the dear 〃mignonne〃 gathering the autumn
flowers； no doubt to make a bouquet at her mother's bidding。 Thinking
of all which that signified； I was so convulsed within me that I
staggered； my sight was blurred； and the two abbes； between whom I
walked； led me to the wall of a terrace； where I sat for some time
completely broken down but not unconscious。
〃Poor Felix；〃 said the count； 〃she forbade me to write to you。 She
knew how much you loved her。〃
Though prepared to suffer； I found I had no strength to bear a scene
which recalled my memories of past happiness。 〃Ah！〃 I thought； 〃I see
it still； that barren moor； dried like a skeleton； lit by a gray sky；
in the centre of which grew a single flowering bush； which again and
again I looked at with a shudder；the forecast of this mournful
hour！〃
All was gloom in the little castle； once so animated； so full of life。
The servants were weeping； despair and desolation everywhere。 The
paths were not raked； work was begun and left undone； the workmen
standing idly about the house。 Though the grapes were being gathered
in the vineyard； not a sound reached us。 The place seemed uninhabited；
so deep the silence！ We walked about like men whose grief rejects all
ordinary topics； and we listened to the count； the only one of us who
spoke。
After a few words prompted by the mechanical love he felt for his wife
he was led by the natural bent of his mind to complain of her。 She had
never； he said； taken care of herself or listened to him when he gave
her good advice。 He had been the first to notice the symptoms of her
illness； for he had studied them in his own case； he had fought them
and cured them without other assistance than careful diet and the
avoidance of all emotion。 He could have cured the countess； but a
husband ought not to take so much responsibility upon himself；
especially when he has the misfortune of finding his experience； in
this as in everything； despised。 In spite of all he could say； the
countess insisted on seeing Origet；Origet； who had managed his case
so ill； was now killing his wife。 If this disease was； as they said；
the result of excessive grief； surely he was the one who had been in a
condition to have it。 What griefs could the countess have had？ She was
always happy； she had never had troubles or annoyances。 Their fortune；
thanks to his care and to his sound ideas； was now in a most
satisfactory state； he had always allowed Madame de Mortsauf to reign
at Clochegourde； her children； well trained and now in health； gave
her no anxiety；where； then； did this grief they talked of come from？
Thus he argued and discussed the matter； mingling his expressions of
despair with senseless accusations。 Then； recalled by some sudden
memory to the admiration which he felt for his wife； tears rolled from
his eyes which had been dry so long。
Madeleine came to tell me that her mother was ready。 The Abbe
Birotteau followed me。 Madeleine； now a grave young girl； stayed with
her father； saying that the countess desired to be alone w