"No, not that we could detect. At the last he remained with us till the worst came."
"Marie was away?"
"Yes, and we did all we could for him. Nothing gave him ease of mind. At last, on the day when he came of age, we were in the house. Len was never quiet. For days he did not rest, and I think he got very little sleep, for I often heard him pacing the house or passing out of doors. Several times I followed him to the cliffs, fearing he might do violence to himself. For during those last days his life must have been very hard to bear. Yet he had no idea of committing suicide. Surely Len's suffering was enough to atone for any act committed by any ancestor of his."
"Len was a very intelligent fellow. Perhaps this had much to do with making his dread of the curse greater than it would have otherwise been?"
"Perhaps you are right. His wealth gave him a different standing in the community, and his love for Marie also made him look upon the coming of the curse with hatred. At last the time came. He was exhausted with expectation and with the sleepless wandering of many days and nights. He could not stand, but sat with a ghastly face and rolling eyes as the moment came. The time passed. I saw the nervous twitching of his mouth and the clenching of his hands. Several minutes passed, and he began to struggle as one in a fit. He started from his chair, only to fall back again like a corpse. He slipped to the floor, beating with his hands the mat on which he lay; then with a terrible cry he was on his feet again, and seizing me by the arm, he cried:
"'Pierre! Pierre! the curse is upon me! The curse is mine! I am dying of thirst.'
"Rushing to the kitchen, he seized a large tin of water, and carrying it to his lips, he began to drink eagerly. I thought he would kill himself, for he took every drop, except what he spilled in his madness to drink and satisfy his terrible thirst.
"Strange to say, he calmed down, and burying his face in his hands, he wept, a broken-spirited man."
"You think it changed him?"