OR THE DESERT ISLAND. 117

able astonishment, pronouncing at last these words:
“Where amI? How came I hither?”

“Do not disturb yourself, my lord,” said Philip, with
great agitation; for he had long feared the moment in
-which the count would ask this question, and had prepared
an answer so framed as to preclude offence. But his
tongue refused to move ; and, regarding his enemy with a
troubled air, he hid his face behind the fan he was holding
in his hand, and indulged his grief.

* Merville,” said the count, “I comprehend my situa-
tion; cease from lavishing upon me these friendly atlen-
tions, for I deserve them not.”

Then, lowering his voice, he added—“ No, this must not
be! I have outraged you too deeply. Go—leave your
oppressor to die uncared for. I saw you suffer, and pitied
you not: he that has no compassion for others can claim
none towards himself. Merville, I ask your pardon !”

He turned himself to the other side of his bed ; and, con-
cealing his face beneath his emaciated hands, endeavoured
to hide from Philip his convulsive sobs and tears. Delicacy
made him retreat a few steps from the bed, lest he might
appear a spectator of his violent emotions. But the tears
of the count were not those of mortified pride: they pro-
ceeded from a heart breaking with repentance ; they were