"
"I am horrified with myself," gasped Guillaume, "to think that I wanted
to kill you! Yes, I'm a brute beast that would kill his brother! And the
others, too, all the others up yonder. . . . Oh! I'm cold, I feel so
cold."
His teeth were chattering, and he shivered. It was as if he had awakened,
half stupefied, from some evil dream. And in the new light which his
fratricidal deed cast upon things, the scheme which had haunted him and
goaded him to madness appeared like some act of criminal folly, projected
by another.
"To kill you!" he repeated almost in a whisper. "I shall never forgive
myself. My life is ended, I shall never find courage enough to live."
But Pierre clasped him yet more tightly. "What do you say?" he answered.
"Will there not rather be a fresh and stronger tie of affection between
us? Ah! yes, brother, let me save you as you saved me, and we shall be
yet more closely united! Don't you remember that evening at Neuilly, when
you consoled me and held me to your heart as I am holding you to mine? I
had confessed my torments to you, and you told me that I must live and
love! . . . And you did far more afterwards: you plucked your own love
from your breast and gave it to me. You wished to ensure my happiness at
the price of your own! And how delightful it is that, in my turn, I now
have an opportunity to console you, save you, and bring you back to
life!"
"No, no, the bloodstain is there and it is ineffaceable.
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