shallprayforyou。“
　　Theeyesofthemother，openedbysofirmahand，tookinwithoneretrospectiveglancethewholecourseofherlife。Illuminedbythisflashoflight，shesawherinvoluntarywrong-doingandburstintotears。Theoldpriestwassodeeplymovedattherepentanceofabeingwhohadsinnedsolelythroughignorance，thathelefttheroomhastilylestsheshouldseehispity。
　　Josephreturnedtohismother’sroomabouttwohoursafterherconfessorhadlefther。Hehadbeentoafriendtoborrowthenecessarymoneytopayhismostpressingdebts，andhecameinontiptoe，thinkingthathismotherwasasleep。Hesatdowninanarmchairwithoutherseeinghim；buthesprangupwithacoldchillrunningthroughhimasheheardhersay，inavoicebrokenwithsobs，——
　　“Willheforgiveme？“
　　“Whatisit，mother？“heexclaimed，shockedatthestrickenfaceofthepoorwoman，andthinkingthewordsmustmeanthedeliriumthatprecedesdeath。
　　“Ah，Joseph！canyoupardonme，mychild？“shecried。
　　“Forwhat？“hesaid。
　　“Ihaveneverlovedyouasyoudeservedtobeloved。“
　　“Oh，whatanaccusation！“hecried。“Notlovedme？Forsevenyearshavewenotlivedalonetogether？Allthesesevenyearshaveyounottakencareofmeanddoneeverythingforme？DoInotseeyoueveryday，——hearyourvoice？Areyounotthegentleandindulgentcompanionofmymiserablelife？Youdon’tunderstandpainting？——Ah！butthat’sagiftnotalwaysgiven。IwassayingtoGrassouonlyyesterday:’WhatcomfortsmeinthemidstofmytrialsisthatIhavesuchagoodmother。Sheisallthatanartist’swifeshouldbe；sheseestoeverything；shetakescareofmymaterialwantswithoutevertroublingorworryingme。’“
　　“No，Joseph，no；youhavelovedme，butIhavenotreturnedyouloveforlove。Ah！wouldthatIcouldlivealittlelonger——Givemeyourhand。“
　　Agathetookherson’shand，kissedit，helditonherheart，andlookedinhisfacealongtime，——lettinghimseetheazureofhereyesresplendentwithatendernessshehadhithertobestowedonPhilippeonly。Thepainter，wellfittedtojudgeofexpression，wassostruckbythechange，andsawsoplainlyhowtheheartofhismotherhadopenedtohim，thathetookherinhisarms，andheldherforsomemomentstohisheart，cryingoutlikeonebesidehimself，——“Mymother！
　　oh，mymother！“
　　“Ah！IfeelthatIamforgiven！“shesaid。“Godwillconfirmthechild’spardonofitsmother。“
　　“Youmustbecalm:don’ttormentyourself；hearme。Ifeelmyselflovedenoughinthisonemomentforallthepast，“hesaid，ashelaidherbackuponthepillows。
　　Duringthetwoweeks’strugglebetweenlifeanddeath，thereglowedsuchloveineverylookandgestureandimpulseofthesoulofthepiouscreature，thateacheffusionofherfeelingsseemedliketheexpressionofalifetime。Themotherthoughtonlyofherson；sheherselfcountedfornothing；sustainedbylove，shewasunawareofhersufferings。D’Arthez，MichelChrestien，FulgenceRidal，PierreGrassou，andBianchonoftenkeptJosephcompany，andsheheardthemtalkingartinalowvoiceinacornerofherroom。
　　“Oh，howIwishIknewwhatcoloris！“sheexclaimedoneeveningassheheardthemdiscussingoneofJoseph’spictures。
　　Joseph，onhisside，wassublimelydevotedtohismother。Heneverleftherchamber；answeredtendernessbytenderness，cherishingheruponhisheart。Thespectaclewasneverafterwardsforgottenbyhisfriends；andtheythemselves，abandofbrothersintalentandnobilityofnature，weretoJosephandhismotherallthattheyshouldhavebeen，——friendswhoprayed，andtrulywept；notsayingprayersandsheddingtears，butonewiththeirfriendinthoughtandaction。
　　Joseph，inspiredasmuchbyfeelingasbygenius，divinedintheoccasionalexpressionofhismother’sfaceadesirethatwasdeephiddeninherheart，andhesaidonedaytod’Arthez，——
　　“ShehaslovedthatbrigandPhilippetoowellnottowanttoseehimbeforeshedies。“
　　JosephbeggedBixiou，whofrequentedtheBohemianregionswherePhilippewasstilloccasionallytobefound，topersuadethatshamelesssontoplay，ifonlyoutofpity，alittlecomedyoftendernesswhichmightwrapthemother’sheartinawinding-sheetofillusivehappiness。Bixiou，inhiscapacityasanobservingandmisanthropicalscoffer，desirednothingbetterthantoundertakesuchamission。WhenhehadmadeknownMadameBridau’sconditiontotheComtedeBrambourg，whoreceivedhiminabedroomhungwithyellowdamask，thecolonellaughed。
　　“Whatthedevildoyouwantmetodothere？“hecried。“Theonlyservicethepoorwomancanrendermeistodieassoonasshecan；shewouldberatherasorryfigureatmymarriagewithMademoiselledeSoulanges。Thelessmyfamilyisseen，thebettermyposition。YoucaneasilyunderstandthatIshouldliketoburythenameofBridauunderallthemonumentsinPere-Lachaise。Mybrotherirritatesmebybringingthenameintopublicity。YouaretooknowingnottoseethesituationasIdo。Lookatitasifitwereyourown:ifyouwereadeputy，withatonguelikeyours，youwouldbeasmuchfearedasChauvelin；youwouldbemadeComteBixiou，anddirectoroftheBeaux-
　　Arts。Oncethere，howshouldyoulikeitifyourgrandmotherDescoingsweretoturnup？Wouldyouwantthatworthywoman，wholookedlikeaMadameSaint-Leon，tobehangingontoyou？WouldyougiveheranarmintheTuileries，andpresenthertothenoblefamilyyouweretryingtoenter？Damnit，you’dwishhersixfeetunderground，inaleadennight-gown。Come，breakfastwithme，andletustalkofsomethingelse。Iamaparvenu，mydearfellow，andIknowit。Idon’tchoosethatmyswaddling-clothesshallbeseen。MysonwillbemorefortunatethanI；hewillbeagreatlord。Thescampwillwishmedead；Iexpectit，——orhewon’tbemyson。“
　　Herangthebell，andorderedtheservanttoservebreakfast。
　　“Thefashionableworldwouldn’tseeyouinyourmother’sbedroom，“
　　saidBixiou。“Whatwoulditcostyoutoseemtolovethatpoorwomanforafewhours？“
　　“Whew！“criedPhilippe，winking。“Soyoucomefromthem，doyou？I’manoldcamel，whoknowsallaboutgenuflections。MymothermakestheexcuseofherlastillnesstogetsomethingoutofmeforJoseph。No，thankyou！“
　　WhenBixiourelatedthisscenetoJoseph，thepoorpainterwaschilledtotheverysoul。
　　“DoesPhilippeknowIamill？“askedAgatheinapiteoustone，thedayafterBixiouhadrenderedanaccountofhisfruitlesserrand。
　　Josephlefttheroom，suffocatingwithemotion。TheAbbeLoraux，whowassittingbythebedsideofhispenitent，tookherhandandpressedit，andthenheanswered，“Alas！mychild，youhaveneverhadbutoneson。“
　　Thewords，whichAgatheunderstoodbuttoowell，conveyedashockwhichwasthebeginningoftheend。Shediedtwentyhourslater。
　　Inthedeliriumwhichprecededdeath，thewords，“WhomdoesPhilippetakeafter？“escapedher。
　　Josephfollowedhismothertothegravealone。Philippehadgone，onbusinessitwassaid，toOrleans；inreality，hewasdrivenfromParisbythefollowingletter，whichJosephwrotetohimamomentaftertheirmotherhadbreathedherlastsigh:——
　　Monster！mypoormotherhasdiedoftheshockyourlettercausedher。Wearmourning，butpretendillness；Iwillnotsufferherassassintostandatmysidebeforehercoffin。
　　JosephB。
　　Thepainter，whonolongerhadthehearttopaint，thoughhisbittergriefsorelyneededthemechanicaldistractionwhichlaboriswonttogive，wassurroundedbyfriendswhoagreedwithoneanothernevertoleavehimentirelyalone。ThusithappenedthatBixiou，wholovedJosephasmuchasasatiristcanloveanyone，wassittingintheatelierwithagroupofotherfriendsabouttwoweeksafterAgathe’sfuneral。Theservantenteredwithaletter，broughtbyanoldwoman，shesaid，whowaswaitingbelowfortheanswer。
　　Monsieur，——Toyou，whomIscarcelydaretocallmybrother，Iamforcedtoaddressmyself，ifonlyonaccountofthenameIbear——
　　Josephturnedthepageandreadthesignature。Thename“ComtesseFloredeBrambourg“madehimshudder。Heforesawsomenewatrocityonthepartofhisbrother。
　　“Thatbrigand，“hecried，“isthedevil’sown。Andhecallshimselfamanofhonor！Andhewearsalotofcrossesonhisbreast！Andhestrutsaboutatcourtinsteadofbeingbastinadoed！AndthescoundreliscalledMonsieurleComte！“
　　“Therearemanylikehim，“saidBixiou。
　　“Afterall，“saidJoseph，“theRabouilleusedeservesherfate，whateveritis。Sheisnotworthpitying；she’dhavehadmyneckwrunglikeachicken’swithoutsomuchassaying，’He’sinnocent。’“
　　Josephflungawaytheletter，butBixioucaughtitintheair，andreaditaloud，asfollows:——
　　IsitdecentthattheComtesseBridaudeBrambourgshoulddieinahospital，nomatterwhatmayhavebeenherfaults？Ifsuchistobemyfate，ifsuchisyourdeterminationandthatofmonsieurlecomte，sobeit；butifso，willyou，whoarethefriendofDoctorBianchon，askhimforapermittoletmeenterahospital？
　　ThepersonwhocarriesthisletterhasbeenelevenconsecutivedaystothehoteldeBrambourg，ruedeClichy，withoutgettinganyhelpfrommyhusband。ThepovertyinwhichInowampreventsmyemployingalawyertomakealegaldemandforwhatisduetome，thatImaydiewithdecency。Nothingcansaveme，Iknowthat。Incaseyouareunwillingtoseeyourunhappysister-in-law，sendme，atleast，themoneytoendmydays。Yourbrotherdesiresmydeath；
　　hehasalwaysdesiredit。Hewarnedmethatheknewthreewaysofkillingawoman，butIhadnotthesensetoforeseetheonehehasemployed。