Keep these last remains of us and give them to our sons in happier days.

We have kissed these locks of hair and have laid our blessing upon them.

Our last thought will be of our sons, of you, and of God.

Love them, Laurence.
Berthe de Cinq-Cygne.

Jean de Simeuse.
Tears came to the eyes of all the household as they listened to the letter.
Laurence looked at the agents with a petrifying glance and said, in a firm voice:-- "You have less pity than the executioner." Corentin quietly folded the hair in the letter, laid the letter aside on the table, and put a box of counters on the top of it as if to prevent its blowing away.