He shuddered, and his hair
was in a moment soaking with perspiration.
He had almost become an assassin. The proof that he was restored to full
possession of his faculties was, that a question of criminal law crossed
his brain.
"The crime committed," said he to himself, "should I have been
condemned? Yes. Was I responsible? No. Is crime merely the result of
mental alienation? Was I mad? Or was I in that peculiar state of mind
which usually precedes an illegal attempt? Who can say? Why have not all
judges passed through an incomprehensible crisis such as mine? But who
would believe me, were I to recount my experience?"
Some days later, he was sufficiently recovered to tell his father all.
The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders, and assured him it was but a
reminiscence of his delirium.
The good old man was moved at the story of his son's luckless wooing,
without seeing therein, however, an irreparable misfortune. He advised
him to think of something else, placed at his disposal his entire
fortune, and recommended him to marry a stout Poitevine heiress, very
gay and healthy, who would bear him some fine children. Then, as his
estate was suffering by his absence, he returned home.
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