He handed him the revolver. Essarès took it mechanically and pointed it at Don Luis; but his arm lacked the strength to take aim and fell by his side.
“Capital!” said Don Luis. “We understand each other; and the action which you are about to perform will atone for your evil life, you old blackguard. When a man’s last hope is dispelled, there’s nothing for it but death. That’s the final refuge.”
He took hold of the other’s hand and, bending Essarès’ nerveless fingers round the revolver, forced him to point it towards his own face.
“Come,” said he, “just a little pluck. What you’ve resolved to do is a very good thing. As Captain Belval and I refuse to disgrace ourselves by killing you, you’ve decided to do the job yourself. We are touched; and we congratulate you. But you must behave with courage. No resistance, come! That’s right, that’s much more like it. Once more, my compliments. It’s very smart, your manner of getting out of it. You perceive that there’s no room for you on earth, that you’re standing in the way of Patrice and Coralie and that the best thing you can do is to retire. And you’re jolly well right! No love and no gold! No gold, Siméon! The beautiful shiny coins which you coveted, with which you would have managed to secure a nice, comfortable existence, all fled, vanished! You may just as well vanish yourself, what?”
Whether because he felt himself to be helpless or because he really understood that Don Luis was right and that his life was no longer worth living, Siméon offered hardly any resistance. The revolver rose to his forehead. The barrel touched his temple.
At the touch of the cold steel he gave a moan:
“Mercy!”
“No, no, no!” said Don Luis. “You mustn’t show yourself any mercy. And I won’t help you either. Perhaps, if you hadn’t killed my poor Ya-Bon, we might have put our heads together and sought for another ending. But, honestly, you inspire me with no more pity than you feel for yourself. You want to die and you are right. I won’t prevent you. Besides, your passport is made out; you’ve got your ticket in your pocket. They are expecting you down below. And, you know, you need have no fear of being bored. Have you ever seen a picture of Hell? Every one has a huge stone over his tomb; and every one is lifting the stone and supporting it with his back, in order to escape the flames bursting forth beneath him. You see, there’s plenty of fun. Well, your grave is reserved. Bath’s ready, sir!”
Slowly and patiently he had succeeded in slipping the wretched man’s fore-finger under the handle, so as to bring it against the trigger. Essarès was letting himself go. He was little more than a limp rag. Death had already cast its shadow upon him.
“Mind you,” said Don Luis, “you’re perfectly free. You can pull the trigger if you feel like it. It’s not my business. I’m not here to compel you to commit suicide, but only to advise you and to lend you a hand.”