"I thought of that too late. Then I felt myself lost, and I cried, 'My mother!' when I should have cried, 'Help!'"
"Fortunately, that supreme cry I heard, my poor child. But now that you are calm, I implore you, tell me—"
Then, interrupting himself, David added:
"No, after what has passed, I have no right to question you. I shall wait for a confession which I wish to owe only to your confidence."
Frederick felt David's delicacy, for it was evident that his preceptor did not desire to abuse the influence given by a service rendered, by forcing a confidence from him.
Then he said, with tears in his eyes:
"M. David, life was a burden to me. I judged of the future by the past, and I wished to end it. Yet, that night, when during my mother's sleep I bade her farewell, my heart was broken. I thought of the sorrow that I would cause her in killing myself, and for a moment I hesitated, but I said to myself, 'My life will cost her more tears perhaps than my death,' and so I decided to put an end to it. This morning I asked her to forgive all the grief I had caused her, I also asked you to forgive me for the wrongs I had done to you, M. David. I did not wish to carry with me the animadversion of anybody. To remove all suspicion I affected calmness, certain of finding during the day some means of escaping your watchfulness and that of my mother. Your invitation to go out this morning served my plans. I was acquainted with the country. I directed our walk toward a spot where I felt sure I could escape from you and from your assistance, and I do not know how it was possible for you to find a trace of me, M. David."
"I will tell you that, my child, but continue."
"The hurry, the eagerness of my flight, the noise of the wind and the waters, seemed to intoxicate me, and then, on the horizon, I saw rise up before me, like an apparition, the—" Here a light flush coloured Frederick's cheeks, and he did not finish his sentence.
David mentally supplied it, and said to himself: