“Now,” said Jacques, “come, unhappy man! let us embrace for the last time. Your brother pardons your crimes, and he will come every day to pray to Heaven on your grave.”
Edouard threw himself into his brother’s arms; they embraced a long while; but at last, Edouard walked a few steps away, a report rang out,—the miserable wretch had ceased to live.
Jacques went to his brother’s body, and summoning all his courage, although his tears fell rapidly, he hastily dug a grave at the foot of a willow tree near the little gate. Sans-Souci arrived and surprised his comrade in that melancholy occupation.
“Help me,” said Jacques, “it’s my brother.”
Sans-Souci tried to send his friend away and to perform that painful task alone; but Jacques would not consent; he was determined to pay the last duties to his brother. And not until the earth had concealed him from his sight did he consent to return to Adeline.
“Well,” she said, “what has become of him?”
“Have no further fear for him,” said Jacques; “he has escaped; and I give you my word that the law can never lay hold of him now.”
Adeline had faith in Jacques’s promise and looked on without apprehension when the gendarmes, a few hours later, searched the house, where of course they did not find Edouard.
After some time, Adeline noticed with surprise a tombstone which Jacques had caused to be erected under the willow at the end of the garden.
“For whom is this stone?” she asked him.