I might, with my own hand, have sent a man into eternity.

How did I know it was Voltaire's power that made me do the deed?
Might not my blind passion have swept me on to this dark deed?
But that could not be.

No, no; I could not believe that.
Besides, Voltaire had told me it was because of him.

Still, I was not fit to be her husband.
Then her words came back to me, and her pure influence gave me strength.
She, so pure, so true, had seemed to understand my position, had bid me hope and be brave.

She had told me she loved me--she, whom hundreds of brave men would love to call their own.