curse, which now weighs me down to the earth with sorrow and remorse!"
"Did I not urge him," replied the Count, "Did I not supplicate him on my knees in your behalf? Did I not beseech him to consider your situation and his own? Unjust Ferdinand to reproach me—me, who have for three years wearied my father with tears, supplications and entreaties, to forgive and receive you to his paternal arms! What have I left unsaid, or undone, to convince you of my brotherly affection?"
"Pardon me," cried Ferdinand, extending his hand: "Forgive me, my dear brother, I know my inexpressible obligations to you; but grief, despair, and heart-rending retrospections, deprive me of my reason. O, my father! to the grave, even beyond this world, hast thou carried thy hatred and reprobation of thy wretched son! How great, how good, how benevolent, how forgiving to all, was Count Renaud! What then must my crimes
