sumes the appearance of selfishness, even when we
meditate a sacrifice. We are easily led at such times to make a compromise
of the question; and this was my present resource. I resolved that very
night to ride to Versailles; if I found affairs less desperate than I now
deemed them, I would return without delay to my troop; I had a vague idea
that my arrival at that town, would occasion some sensation more or less
strong, of which we might profit, for the purpose of leading forward the
vacillating multitude--at least no time was to be lost--I visited the
stables, I saddled my favourite horse, and vaulting on his back, without
giving myself time for further reflection or hesitation, quitted
Villeneuve-la-Guiard on my return to Versailles.

I was glad to escape from my rebellious troop, and to lose sight for a
time, of the strife of evil with good, where the former for ever remained
triumphant. I was stung almost to madness by my uncertainty concerning the
fate of Adrian, and grew reckless of any event, except what might lose or
preserve my unequalled friend. With an heavy heart, that sought relief in
the rapidity of my course, I rode through the night to Versailles. I
spurred my horse, who addressed his free limbs to speed, and tossed his
gallant head in pride. The constellations reeled swiftly by, swiftly each
tree and stone and landmark fled past my onward career. I bared my head to
the rushing wind, which bathed my brow in delightful coolness. As I lost
sight of Villeneuve-la-Guiard, I forgot the sad drama of human misery;
methought it was happiness enough to live, sensitive the while of the
beauty of the verdure-clad earth, the star-bespangled sky, and the tameless
wind that lent animation to the whole. My horse grew tired--and I,
forgetful of his fatigue, still as he lagged, cheered him with my voice,
and urged him with the spur. He was a gallant animal, and I did not wish to
exchange him for any chance beast I might light on, leaving him never to be
refound. All night we went forward; in the morning he became sensible that
we approached Versailles, to reach which as his home, he mustered his
flagging strength. The distance we had come was not less than fifty miles,
yet he shot down the long Boulevards swift as an arrow; poor fellow, as I
dismounted at the gate of the castle, he sunk on his knees, his eyes were
covered with a film, he fell on his side, a few gasps inflated his noble
chest, and he died. I saw him expir