When his judgment of Louis XI. was concluded, he rose abruptly
like a man in haste to escape a pressing danger. At this instant, his
sister, too feeble or too strong for such a crisis, fell stark; she
was dead. Maitre Cornelius seized her, and shook her violently, crying
out:
"You cannot die now. There is time enough later--Oh! it is all over.
The old hag never could do anything at the right time."
He closed her eyes and laid her on the floor. Then the good and noble
feelings which lay at the bottom of his soul came back to him, and,
half forgetting his hidden treasure, he cried out mournfully:--
"Oh! my poor companion, have I lost you?--you who understood me so
well! Oh! you were my real treasure. There it lies, my treasure! With
you, my peace of mind, my affections, all, are gone. If you had only
known what good it would have done me to live two nights longer, you
would have lived, solely to please me, my poor sister! Ah, Jeanne!
thirteen hundred thousand crowns! Won't that wake you?--No, she is
dead!"
Thereupon, he sat down, and said no more; but two great tears issued
from his eyes and rolled down his hollow cheeks; then, with strange
exclamations of grief, he locked up the room and returned to the king.
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