had lost my last hope. I endeavoured to walk --
my legs sank under me; exhausted by the
anxieties of the day and by sleeplessness, I fell
upon the wet grass and burst out crying like a
child.

For a long time I lay motionless and wept
bitterly, without attempting to restrain my tears
and sobs. I thought my breast would burst. All
my firmness, all my coolness, disappeared like
smoke; my soul grew powerless, my reason silent,
and, if anyone had seen me at that moment, he
would have turned aside with contempt.

When the night-dew and the mountain breeze
had cooled my burning brow, and my thoughts
had resumed their usual course, I realized that to
pursue my perished happiness would be unavail-
ing and unreasonable. What more did I want? --
To see her? -- Why? Was not all over between
us? A single, bitter, farewell kiss would not have
enriched my recollections, and, after it, parting
would only have been more difficult for us.

Still, I am pleased that I can weep. Perhaps,
however, the cause of that was my shattered
nerves, a night passed without sleep, two minutes
opposite the muzzle of a pistol, and an empty
stomach.