“Ah! so it is,” said Raoul, seating himself beside his friend; “one loves and dies.”
“No, no, not dies,” replied Guiche, smiling, “since I am now recovering, and since, too, I can press you in my arms.”
“Ah!
I understand.”
“And I understand you, too. You fancy I am unhappy, Raoul?”
“Alas!”
“No; I am the happiest of men. My body suffers, but not my mind or my heart. If you only knew — Oh! I am, indeed, the very happiest of men.”
“So much the better,” said Raoul; “so much the better, provided it lasts.”