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Updated: August 28, 2024
My father, almost unrecognizable, pale, thin, suffering painted on every feature, with his head leaning on a pillow, was stretched out in a large arm-chair. "At the chimney-corner, standing near him, was Dr. Polidori, prepared to pour in a cup, which a nurse presented to him, some drops of a liquid contained in a little glass bottle which he held in his hand.
Polidori, completely dressed in black, was seated beside the desk of Jacques Ferrand. At the sight of the priest they both arose. "Well! how do you get on, my worthy M. Ferrand?" said the abbe, with solicitude; "are you a little better?" "I am always in the same state, M. l'Abbe; the fever does not leave me," answered the notary; "the want of sleep is killing me. But the will of heaven be done!"
One night, when pouring rain detained Shelley's party at the Villa Diodati over a blazing fire, they told strange stories, till Byron, leading to poetic ideas, recited the witch's scene from "Christabel," which so excited Shelley's imagination that he shrieked, and ran from the room; and Polidori writes that he brought him to by throwing water in his face.
In truth, while finishing this reading, the voice of Jacques Ferrand was broken, his impatience and temper were at an end; but, watched by Polidori, he dared not, could not trangress the least orders of Rudolph. Let his rage be imagined at being forced to dispose so liberally of his fortune in favor of a class whom he had so unmercifully persecuted in the person of Morel the lapidary.
Possessing a consummate medical experience, he at once saw that Ferrand's anguish at seeing himself dispossessed of his fortune, joined to his passion for Cecily, had lighted up the flames of a devouring fever. Suddenly some one knocked hurriedly at the door of the cabinet. "Jacques!" said Polidori, to the notary; "Jacques! recover yourself; here is some one." The notary did not hear him.
An old servant, who for many years was attached to him by the ties of gratitude " "Madame Seraphin?" said the cure, interrupting Polidori. "I have heard of the death of this unfortunate, drowned by her own imprudence, and I comprehend the grief of M. Ferrand. It is not easy to forget ten years of faithful services; such regrets do credit to the master as well as to the servant."
In great anxiety, she endeavored to catch the eye of Polidori, in order to give him courage or to implore his discretion, but he avoided her glances." "And the count?"
"I am very sensible of your solicitude, M. l'Abbe; but I assure you that my condition is not so alarming as you think." "Since you are so obstinate," said Polidori, "I will tell everything to the abbe; he loves you he esteems you he honors you much; how much the more will he honor you when he shall know your new merits when he shall know the true cause of your wasting away?"
"Alas!" said the abbe, sadly, "it is not in this world that one receives the recompense of so many virtues; he has a more exalted ambition." "Jacques," said Polidori, touching the notary lightly on the shoulder, "finish your reading."
"Yes, yes, I am here," said Polidori, in a louder voice; "but I answered softly, fearing to affect your hearing, as I did a few moments ago." "No, now your voice reaches my ear without causing me those painful sufferings; for it seemed to me, at the least noise, as if a thunderbolt had broken in my head.
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