The bolts of the dungeon opened with a dismal sound. By the feeble glimmering of a torch, he penetrated into this mansion of horror; he advanced and listened: the accents of a moaning voice struck his ear; he knew it to be the voice of his friend. He saw him lying down in the corner of the cell covered with rags, consumed with weakness, the paleness of death on his countenance, and the fire of despair in his eyes.
“Leave me,” said Phanor to him, taking him for the slave; “away with these odious nourishments: suffer me to die. Alas,” added he, sending forth cries interrupted by sighs, “alas! my dear Lausus is still more unhappy than I. Oh, gods above! If he knows the state to which he has reduced his friend!” “Yes,” cried Lausus, throwing himself on his bosom, “yes, my dear Phanor, he does know it, and he partakes of it!”
Embracing more closely
“What do I see?” cried Phanor transported. “Ah, Lausus, my Prince!” At these words both of them lost the use of their senses, locked in each other`s arms. Their hearts met, and their sighs intermingled. They remained for a long time mute and immovable, stretched out on the floor of the dungeon. Grief stifled their voices, and they answered each other only by embracing more closely, and bathing one another with their tears. Lausus, at last coming to himself, “Let us lose no time,” said he; “take these clothes, get hence and leave me here.”
“What, I! Great gods, can I be so vile! Ah, Lausus, could you believe it? Ought you to propose it to me?” “I know you well,” said the Prince, “but you should also know me. The sentence is pronounced, your punishment is prepared, you must die or fly.” “Fly!” “Hear me: my father is violent, but he is not without sensibility. Nature asserts her right over his heart. If I deliver you from death I have only to melt him to compassion for myself; and his arm, when lifted up against a son, will be easily dis¬armed.”
“He would strike,” said Phanor, “and your death would be my crime: I cannot abandon you.” “Well, then,” said Lausus, “re¬main here, but at your death you shall see mine also. Depend not on my father`s clemency; it would be in vain for him to pardon me: think not that I would pardon myself. This hand, which wrote the fatal letter that condemns you, this hand which, even after its crime is still the hand of your friend, shall reunite us in your own despite.”
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