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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Hated Son by Honore de Balzac: a son!" he said, after a long pause.
Though the expression of despair on the duke's face was truly awful,
the bonesetter could not repress a smile. At that instant a song,
fresh as the evening breeze, pure as the sky, equable as the color of
the ocean, rose above the murmur of the waves, to cast its charm over
Nature herself. The melancholy of that voice, the melody of its tones
shed, as it were, a perfume rising to the soul; its harmony rose like
a vapor filling the air; it poured a balm on sorrows, or rather it
consoled them by expressing them. The voice mingled with the gurgle of
the waves so perfectly that it seemed to rise from the bosom of the
waters. That song was sweeter to the ears of those old men than the
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