This is a biographical book. My father lived in the country some distance from Paris. When I arrived I found a physician in the house, who said to me: 'You are too late; your father expressed a desire to see you before he died. ' I entered, and saw my father dead. 'Sir, ' I said to the physician, 'please have everyone retire that I may be alone here; my father had something to say to me, and he will say it. ' In obedience to my order the servants left the room. I approached the bed and raised the shroud which covered the face. But when my eyes fell on that countenance, I stooped to kiss it and lost consciousness.
