"And now, I place myself in spirit face to face with death, which may strike me to-day, to-morrow, or this very hour; and I declare, in this supreme and solemn moment, that I bless you from the depth of my soul, my dear beloved child, you who have given me joy and happiness only in this world.
"Be a hundred times blessed, Louis, my good, affectionate son; be happy according to your merits, and my last wishes will be accomplished.
"Your father, A. RICHARD.
"Written and copied in Paris, February 25, 18—"
CHAPTER XIII.
Louis was deeply moved by the reading of this singular testament, and wept long as he reflected on the eccentricities of his beloved father. The day was drawing to a close, when he was finally aroused from his grief by a knock at his door and the well known voice of Florestan de Saint-Herem.
Quickly unbolting the door of the gloomy attic chamber, he found himself in his friend's arms, who cried sympathetically:
"Louis! my poor Louis! I know all. The concierge has just told me of your father's death. Ah! what a cruel, frightful accident!"
"Bead this, Florestan," said Louis, with tears in his eyes, giving his friend the testament left by his father, "and you will understand my bitter grief."
Saint-Herem took the paper and, seating himself by the window, read it to the end.