The count shuddered as if he had received an electric shock; a convulsive tremor agitated all his limbs; and he bounded to his feet, examining with haggard eye, pale brow, and disordered features, the man who had so suddenly replied to the words pain had torn from him. The hunter had not changed his position; his eye remained obstinately fixed upon him, with an expression of melancholy, pity, and paternal kindness.
"Oh!" the count muttered in terror, as he passed his hand over his dank forehead; "it is not he—it cannot be he! Valentine, my brother!—you whom I never hoped to see again—answer, in Heaven's name, is it you?"
"'Tis I, brother," the hunter said gently, "whom Heaven brings a second time across your path when all seems once again to fail you."
"Oh!" the count said with an expression impossible to render, "for a long time I have been seeking you—for a long time I have called on you."
"Here I am."
"Yes," he continued, shaking his head mournfully, "you are here, Valentine; but now, alas! It is too late. All is dead in me henceforth—faith, hope, courage: nothing is left to me—nothing but the desire to lie in that tomb, where all my belief and all my departed happiness are buried eternally!"
Valentine remained silent for a few moments, regarding his friend with a glance at once gentle and stern. A flood of memories poured over the hunter's heart; two glistening tears escaped from his eyes, and slowly coursed down his bronzed cheeks; then, without any apparent effort, he drew the count toward him, laid his head on his wide and loyal chest, and kissed him paternally on the forehead.
"You have suffered, then, severely, my poor Louis," he said to him tenderly. "Alas, alas! I was not there to sustain and protect you; but," he added, turning to heaven a glance of bitter sadness and sublime resignation, "I too, Louis, I too, in the heart of the desert, where I sought a refuge, have endured agonising grief. Many times I felt myself strangled by despair; often and often my temples were crushed in by the pressure of the furious madness that invaded my brain; my heart was broken by the terrible anguish I endured; and yet, brother," he added in a soft voice, filled with an ineffable melodiousness, "yet I live, I struggle, and I hope," he said, so low that the count could hardly hear him.
"Oh! Blessed be the chance that brings us together again when I despaired of seeing you, Valentine."
"There is no such thing as chance, brother: it is God who prepares the accomplishment of all events. I was seeking you."