“Adieu, adieu!” murmured the old man, clasping Edmond’s hand
convulsively—“adieu!”
“Oh, no,—no, not yet,” he cried; “do not forsake me! Oh, succor him!
Help—help—help!”
“Hush! hush!” murmured the dying man, “that they may not separate us if
you save me!”
“You are right. Oh, yes, yes; be assured I shall save you! Besides,
although you suffer much, you do not seem to be in such agony as you
were before.”
“Do not mistake! I suffer less because there is in me less strength to
endure. At your age we have faith in life; it is the privilege of youth
to believe and hope, but old men see death more clearly. Oh, ’tis
here—’tis here—’tis over—my sight is gone—my senses fail! Your hand,
Dantès! Adieu! adieu!”
And raising himself by a final effort, in which he summoned all his
faculties,
