“I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. He was not there. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. He trembled violently. He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish.
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