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His
thoughts
did
not
linger
any
further
over
this
line
of
reasoning
.
As
for
the
sentence
,
the
disagreeableness
of
appearing
in
public
,
the
defence
,
he
considered
all
this
as
slight
embarrassment
,
irksome
formalities
,
which
it
would
be
time
enough
to
consider
on
the
actual
day
.
The
actual
moment
of
death
did
not
seize
hold
of
his
mind
either
.
"
I
will
think
about
it
after
the
sentence
.
"
Life
was
no
longer
boring
,
he
was
envisaging
everything
from
a
new
point
of
view
,
he
had
no
longer
any
ambition
He
rarely
thought
about
mademoiselle
de
la
Mole
.
His
passion
of
remorse
engrossed
him
a
great
deal
,
and
often
conjured
up
the
image
of
madame
de
Rênal
,
particularly
during
the
silence
of
the
night
,
which
in
this
high
turret
was
only
disturbed
by
the
song
of
the
osprey
.
He
thanked
heaven
that
he
had
not
inflicted
a
mortal
wound
.
"
Astonishing
,
"
he
said
to
himself
,
"
I
thought
that
she
had
destroyed
my
future
happiness
for
ever
by
her
letter
to
M
.
de
la
Mole
,
and
here
am
I
,
less
than
a
fortnight
after
the
date
of
that
letter
,
not
giving
a
single
thought
to
all
the
things
that
engrossed
me
then
.
An
income
of
two
or
three
thousand
francs
,
on
which
to
live
quietly
in
a
mountain
district
,
like
Vergy
.
.
.
.
I
was
happy
then
.
.
.
.
I
did
not
realise
my
happiness
.
"
At
other
moments
he
would
jump
up
from
his
chair
.
"
If
I
had
mortally
wounded
madame
de
Rênal
,
I
would
have
killed
myself
.
.
.
.
I
need
to
feel
certain
of
that
so
as
not
to
horrify
myself
.
"
"
Kill
myself
?
That
’
s
the
great
question
,
"
he
said
to
himself
.
"
Oh
,
those
judges
,
those
fiends
of
red
tape
,
who
would
hang
their
best
citizen
in
order
to
win
the
cross
.
.
.
.
At
any
rate
,
I
should
escape
from
their
control
and
from
the
bad
French
of
their
insults
,
which
the
local
paper
will
call
eloquence
.
"
"
I
still
have
five
or
six
weeks
,
more
or
less
to
live
.
.
.
.
Kill
myself
.
No
,
not
for
a
minute
,
"
he
said
to
himself
after
some
days
,
"
Napoleon
went
on
living
.
"
"
Besides
,
I
find
life
pleasant
,
this
place
is
quiet
,
I
am
not
troubled
with
bores
,
"
he
added
with
a
smile
,
and
he
began
to
make
out
a
list
of
the
books
which
he
wanted
to
order
from
Paris
.
He
heard
a
loud
noise
in
the
corridor
.
It
was
not
the
time
when
the
gaoler
usually
came
up
to
his
prison
.
The
osprey
flew
away
with
a
shriek
.
The
door
opened
,
and
the
venerable
curé
Chélan
threw
himself
into
his
arms
.
He
was
trembling
all
over
and
had
his
stick
in
his
hands
.
"
Great
God
!
Is
it
possible
,
my
child
—
I
ought
to
say
monster
?
"
The
good
old
man
could
not
add
a
single
word
.
Julien
was
afraid
he
would
fall
down
.
He
was
obliged
to
lead
him
to
a
chair
.
The
hand
of
time
lay
heavy
on
this
man
who
had
once
been
so
active
.
He
seemed
to
Julien
the
mere
shadow
of
his
former
self
.
