Both men embraced him and, to hide their sobs, rushed quickly from the room; as Talma saw them go out he said—
"Quite right, be quick and go, then I shall hope to see you again soon; the sooner you go, the sooner you will come back."
When MM. de Jouy and Arnault had gone away, his two children were brought him, and Talma held out his hands to them, to be kissed. A few minutes later, he uttered three words—
"Voltaire!... like Voltaire!..."
Then, immediately afterwards, he murmured—
"The cruellest thing of all is to lose one's sight."
The next moment, some piece of furniture cracked very loudly, and Talma turned his head in the direction of the sound. A lady who had just arrived took advantage of this movement to say—
"Talma, it is I, Mademoiselle Menocq."
The dying man made a slight token of acknowledgment and pressed her hand. It struck half-past eleven. Talma took his handkerchief in both hands, lifted it up slowly to his mouth, wiped his lips and then put it behind his head, still holding it in both hands. After the lapse of a few seconds, his hands released their hold and fell down by his sides. His nephew took hold of the hand nearest him, and felt that his pressure was returned feebly. At eleven thirty-five, without any convulsion or muscular contraction of the face, one sigh escaped his lips—it was his last breath.