so bitter to 'let alone,' as in a case where we might have acted and
did not?

"Poor Melchior! In vain he laid both his hands in Death's outstretched
palm; they fell to him again as if they had passed through air; he was
pushed aside--Death passed into the coach--'one was taken and the
other left.'

"As the cloaked figure glided in and out among the crowd, many turned
to look at his sad burden, though few heeded him. Much was said; but
the general voice of the crowd was this: 'Ah! he is gone, is he? Well!
a born rascal! It must be a great relief to his brother!' A conclusion
which was about as wise, and about as near the truth, as the world's
conclusions generally are. As for Melchior, he neither saw the figure
nor heard the crowd, for he had fallen senseless among the cushions.

"When he came to his senses, he found himself lying still upon his
face; and so bitter was his loneliness and grief, that he lay still
and did not move. He was astonished, however, by the (as it seemed to
him) unusual silence. The noise of the carriages had been deafening,
and now there was not a sound. Was he deaf? or had the crowd gone? He
opened his eyes. Was he blind? or had the night come? He sat right up,
and shook himself, and looked again. The crowd _was_ gone; so, for
matter of that, was the coach; and so was Godfather Time. He had not
been lying among cushions, but among pillows; he was not in any
vehicle of any kind, but in bed. The room was dark, and very still;
but through the 'barracks' window, which had no blind, he saw the
winter sun pushing through the mist, like a red hot cannon-ball
hanging in the frosty trees; and in the yard outside, the cocks were
crowing.