When one still has the consciousness of one's sufferings, when one can contemplate one's own joy, then neither has joy nor sorrow arrived at its highest degree.
I had thus far suffered atrociously. I had experienced the most intense delights, but I had never been so absorbed as to lose self-consciousness, or the power of self-investigation.
I have spoken of an unknown happiness, Marie, and yet the date of the blissful day when I no longer doubted of your love is written in this journal, while the date of our Arthur's birth is not found here.
Your tender soul will understand and appreciate the difference, will it not?
As for our child, Marie, our beautiful and adorable child, we will think of his future, and—
These were the last words of the journal of an unknown.
By looking at the dates, and comparing them with the information given me by the curé of the village of ——, in the first volume, one can see that this last passage must have been written the day or the day before the triple assassination of the count, Marie, and their child, by Belmont, the pirate of Porquerolles, who, having escaped from prison, and knowing the retreat of the count, wished to wreak upon him a terrible vengeance before leaving France for ever.