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and that to our last hour, it was best to do all to procure oneself
the pleasure of thinking and of loving.
"Explain, sir, explain what you mean!"
I explained, but was not understood. After many ingenious attempts,
I determined to clear it up in the form of example, and had the
courage to bring forward the extremely singular and moving effect
produced upon me by the voice of Maddalene; when the magisterial
head of the prison burst into a violent fit of laughter. "What is
all that, what is that?" cried his companions. He then repeated my
words with an air of burlesque; peals of laughter followed, and I
there stood, in their eyes, the picture of a convicted blockhead.
As it is in prison, so it is in the world. Those who make it their
wisdom to go into passions, to complain, to defy, to abuse, think
that to pity, to love, to console yourself with gentle and beautiful
thoughts and images, in accord with humanity and its great Author,
is all mere folly.
CHAPTER XIII.
I let them laugh and said not a word; they hit at me again two or
three times, but I was mute. "He will come no more near the
window," said one, "he will hear nothing but the sighs of Maddalene;
we have offended him with laughing." At length, the chief imposed
silence upon the whole party, all amusing themselves at my expense.
"Silence, beasts as you are; devil a bit you know what you are
talking about. Our neighbour is none so long eared an animal as you
imagine. You do not possess the power of reflection, no not you. I
grin and joke; but afterwards I reflect. Every low-born clown can
stamp and roar, as we do here. Grant a little more real
cheerfulness, a spark more of charity, a bit more faith in the
blessing of heaven;--what do you imagine that all this would be a
sign of?" "Now, that I also reflect," replied one, "I fancy it
would be a sign of being a little less of a brute."
"Bravo!" cried his leader, in a most stentorian howl! "now I begin
to have some hope of you."
I was not overproud at being thus rated a LITTLE LESS OF A BRUTE
than the rest; yet I felt a sort of pleasure that these wretched men
had come to some agreement as to the importance of cultivating, in
some degree, more benevolent sentiments.
I again approached the window, the chief called me, and I answered,
hoping that I might now moralise with him in my own way. I was
deceived; vulgar minds dislike serious reasoning; if some noble
truth start up, they applaud for a moment, but the next withdraw
their notice, or scruple not to attempt to shine by questioning, or
aiming to place it in some ludicrous point of view.
I was next asked if I were imprisoned for debt?
"Perhaps you are paying the penalty of a false oath, then?"
"No, it is quite a different thing."
"An affair of love, most likely, I guess?"
"No."
"You have killed a man, mayhap?"
"No."
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