The Count of Monte Cristo

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"But did you not go up-stairs and try to console the poor old man?"
asked the abbe.

"Ah, sir," replied Caderousse, "we cannot console those who will not
be consoled, and he was one of these; besides, I know not why, but he
seemed to dislike seeing me. One night, however, I heard his sobs, and I
could not resist my desire to go up to him, but when I reached his door
he was no longer weeping but praying. I cannot now repeat to you, sir,
all the eloquent words and imploring language he made use of; it was
more than piety, it was more than grief, and I, who am no canter, and
hate the Jesuits, said then to myself, 'It is really well, and I am very
glad that I have not any children; for if I were a father and felt such
excessive grief as the old man does, and did not find in my memory or
heart all he is now saying, I should throw myself into the sea at once,
for I could not bear it.'"

"Poor father!" murmured the priest.