The Count of Monte Cristo

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"Dear Albert," said Beauchamp. But this sudden and factitious joy soon
forsook the young man, and was succeeded by a still greater grief.

"Well," said Beauchamp, "what still oppresses you, my friend?"

"I am broken-hearted," said Albert. "Listen, Beauchamp! I cannot thus,
in a moment relinquish the respect, the confidence, and pride with which
a father's untarnished name inspires a son. Oh, Beauchamp, Beauchamp,
how shall I now approach mine? Shall I draw back my forehead from his
embrace, or withhold my hand from his? I am the most wretched of men.
Ah, my mother, my poor mother!" said Albert, gazing through his tears at
his mother's portrait; "if you know this, how much must you suffer!"

"Come," said Beauchamp, taking both his hands, "take courage, my
friend."

"But how came that first note to be inserted in your journal? Some