1 My dear Victor, do not speak thus.
2 I thanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak.
3 I attempted to speak, but the words died away on my lips.
4 At length he opened his eyes; he breathed with difficulty and was unable to speak.
5 Meanwhile Clerval occupied himself, so to speak, with the moral relations of things.
6 The being finished speaking and fixed his looks upon me in the expectation of a reply.
7 My haggard and wild appearance awoke intense alarm, but I answered no question, scarcely did I speak.
8 The guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they are, to speak in their own defence before they are condemned.
9 Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak, and I often feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding.
10 He might dissect, anatomize, and give names; but, not to speak of a final cause, causes in their secondary and tertiary grades were utterly unknown to him.
11 He wished as much as possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in Ireland and never alluded to them or suffered me to speak of my misfortunes.
12 He, however, answered mildly, "I would willingly afford you every aid in your pursuit, but the creature of whom you speak appears to have powers which would put all my exertions to defiance."
13 About half an hour afterwards he attempted again to speak but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and his eyes closed forever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed away from his lips.
14 It may therefore be judged indecent in me to come forward on this occasion, but when I see a fellow creature about to perish through the cowardice of her pretended friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I know of her character.
15 Even the sailors feel the power of his eloquence; when he speaks, they no longer despair; he rouses their energies, and while they hear his voice they believe these vast mountains of ice are mole-hills which will vanish before the resolutions of man.
16 The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking in a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw destruction upon the head of the speaker.