“But, my father, my father does not hear me,” said Erebus. “I will die without his saying to me, ‘My son!’” cried the unhappy youth, in a failing voice, and then with a sadden movement he sat up, threw his arms around the neck of Pierre des Anbiez, and letting his heavy head fall on the paternal bosom, he cried, “My father, my father! Oh, hear me!”
This despairing, expiring cry, in which Erebes seemed to have concentrated all that remained of his strength, at last reached the depth of the heart of Pierre, des Anbiez.
The commander slowly raised his head, looked around him, then fixed his eyes on Erebus, who still hung around his neck. Then, pressing his son’s head in his two hands, he kissed his forehead reverently and tenderly. Placing his son’s head softly on the pillow, he said, in a low voice, with a strange smile, and an accent full of kindness: “My child, you have called me, I heard your voice in the midst of darkness. I have come; now I return to it Farewell, sleep—sleep for ever, my child.”
And he spread a cloth on the face of Erebus as is done for the dead.
“My brother!” cried Father Elzear, quickly removing the cloth and looking at the commander in astonishment.
The latter did not seem to hear him; he fell back into a sort of lethargy from which he seemed unable to recover.
Erebus grew weaker and weaker, and said to Raimond V.:
“One last favour before I die.”
“Speak, speak, my child, I grant it already.”
“I would like to see your daughter once more, she who gave me a Christian name. She too, alas! must forgive me.”