"God forgive me," said the young man, "for rejoicing at
happiness derived from the misery of others, but, Heaven
knows, I did not seek this good fortune; it has happened,
and I really cannot pretend to lament it. The good Captain
Leclere is dead, father, and it is probable that, with the
aid of M. Morrel, I shall have his place. Do you understand,
father? Only imagine me a captain at twenty, with a hundred
louis pay, and a share in the profits! Is this not more than
a poor sailor like me could have hoped for?"

"Yes, my dear boy," replied the old man, "it is very
fortunate."

"Well, then, with the first money I touch, I mean you to
have a small house, with a garden in which to plant
clematis, nasturtiums, and honeysuckle. But what ails you,
father? Are you not well?"

"'Tis nothing, nothing; it will soon pass away" -- and as he
said so the old man's strength failed him, and he fell
backwards.

"Come, come," said the young man, "a glass of wine, father,
will revive you. Where do you keep your wine?"

"No, no; thanks. You need not look for it; I do not want
it," said the old man.

"Yes, yes, father, tell me where it is," and he opened two
or three cupboards.