om them, and made the
best of my way home.

CHAPTER LII.

Illi mors gravis incubat Qui notus nimis omnibus Ignotus moritus sibi.
--Seneca.

Nous serons par nos lois les juges des ouvrages.--Les Femmes Savantes.

Vincent called on me the next day. "I have news for you," said he,
"though somewhat of a lugubrious nature. Lugete Veneres Cupidinesque.
You remember the Duchesse de Perpignan!"

"I should think so," was my answer.

"Well then," pursued Vincent, "she is no more. Her death was worthy
of her life. She was to give a brilliant entertainment to all the
foreigners at Paris: the day before it took place a dreadful eruption
broke over her complexion. She sent for the doctors in despair. 'Cure me
against to-morrow,' she said, 'and name your own reward.' 'Madame, it is
impossible to do so with safety to your health.' 'Au diable! with your
health,' said the duchesse, 'what is health to an eruption?' The doctors
took the hint; an external application was used--the duchesse woke in
the morning as beautiful as ever--the entertainment took place--she
was the Armida of the scene. Supper was announced. She took the arm
of the--ambassador, and moved through the crowd amidst the audible
admiration of all. She stopped for a moment at the door; all eyes were
upon her. A fearful and ghastly convulsion passed over her countenance,
her lips trembled, she fell on the ground with the most terrible
contortions of face and frame. They carried her to bed. She remained for
some days insensible; when she recovered, she asked for a looking-glass.
Her whole face was drawn on one side, not a wreck of beauty was
left;--that night she poisoned herself!"

I cannot express how shocked I was at this information. Much as I had
cause to be disgusted with the conduct of that unhappy woman, I could
find in my mind no feeling but commiseration and horror at her death;
and it was with great difficulty that Vincent persuaded me to accept an
invitation to Lady Roseville's for the evening, to meet Glanville and
himself.

However, I cheered up as the night came on; and though my mind was still
haunted with the tale of the morning, it was neither in a musing nor a
melancholy mood that I entered the drawing-room at Lady Roseville's--"So
runs the world away."

Glanville was there in his "customary mourning," and looking remarkably
handsome.

"Pelham," he said, when he joined me, "do you remember at Lady--'s one
night, I said I would introduce