The Count of Monte Cristo

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"Hush--hush!" murmured the dying man, "that they may not separate us if
you save me!"

"You are right. Oh, yes, yes; be assured I shall save you! Besides,
although you suffer much, you do not seem to be in such agony as you
were before."

"Do not mistake. I suffer less because there is in me less strength to
endure. At your age we have faith in life; it is the privilege of
youth to believe and hope, but old men see death more clearly. Oh, 'tis
here--'tis here--'tis over--my sight is gone--my senses fail! Your hand,
Dantes! Adieu--adieu!" And raising himself by a final effort, in which
he summoned all his faculties, he said,--"Monte Cristo, forget not Monte
Cristo!" And he fell back on the bed. The crisis was terrible, and a
rigid form with twisted limbs, swollen eyelids, and lips flecked with
bloody foam, lay on the bed of torture, in place of the intellectual
being who so lately rested there.