I have a trouble
here,--" and he touched the region of his heart, "which the wise
doctors say may end my days at any moment; two years at the utmost
is the ultimatum of my life, so I want to know from you, whom I know
to be intelligent and honest, whether you believe I am going to
another existence,--and if so, what sort of a one you think is in
prospect for such a man as I am? Now don't pity me, my dear Bonpre,-
-don't pity me!--" and he laughed a little huskily as the Cardinal
took his hand and pressed it with a silent sympathy more eloquent
than words, "We must all die,--and if I am to go somewhat sooner
than I expected, that is nothing to compassionate me for. But there
is just a little uncertainty in my mind,--I am not at all sure that
death is the end--I wish I could be quite positive of the fact. I
was once--quite positive. But science, instead of giving me this
absolute comfort has in its later progress upset all my former
calculations, and I am afraid I must own that there is indubitably
Something Else,--which to my mind seems distinctly disagreeable!"
Though the Abbe spoke lightly, the troubled look remained in his
eyes and the Cardinal saw it.
"My dear Vergniaud," he began gently, "I am grieved at what you tell
me--"
"No, don't be grieved," interrupted Vergniaud, "because that is not
it.
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