eached my chambers, I hastened immediately to bed, but not to
sleep: the extraordinary scene I had witnessed; the dark and ferocious
expression of Glanville's countenance, so strongly impressed with every
withering and deadly passion; the fearful and unaccountable remembrance
that had seemed to gather over the livid and varying face of the
gamester; the mystery of Glanville's disguise; the intensity of a
revenge so terribly expressed, together with the restless and burning
anxiety I felt--not from idle curiosity, but, from my early and intimate
friendship for Glanville, to fathom its cause--all crowded upon my mind
with a feverish confusion, that effectually banished repose.

It was with that singular sensation of pleasure which none but those
who have passed frequent nights in restless and painful agitation, can
recognize, that I saw the bright sun penetrate through my shutters, and
heard Bedos move across my room.

"What hour will Monsieur have the post horses?" said that praiseworthy
valet.

"At eleven," answered I, springing out of bed with joy at the change of
scene which the very mention of my journey brought before my mind.

I was a luxurious personage in those days. I had had a bath made from
my own design; across it were constructed two small frames--one for the
journal of the day, and another to hold my breakfast apparatus; in this
manner I was accustomed to lie for about an hour, engaging the triple
happiness of reading, feeding, and bathing. Owing to some unaccountable
delay, Galignani's Messenger did not arrive at the usual hour, on
the morning of my departure; to finish breakfast, or bathing, without
Galignani's Messenger, was perfectly impossible, so I remained, till I
was half boiled, in a state of the most indolent imbecility.

At last it came: the first paragraph that struck my eyes was the
following:--"It is rumoured among the circles of the Faubourg, that a
duel was fought on--, between a young Englishman and Monsieur D--;
the cause of it is said to be the pretensions of both to the beautiful
Duchesse de P--, who, if report be true, cares for neither of the
gallants, but lavishes her favours upon a certain attache to the English
embassy."

"Such," thought I, "are the materials for all human histories. Every one
who reads, will eagerly swallow this account as true: if an author were
writing the memoirs of the court, he would compile his facts and scandal
from this very collection of records; and