better.

Louis Blanc dined with me. He is going to Paris.

March 13.--Last night I could not sleep. Like Pythagoras, I was thinking
of numbers. I thought of all these 13's so queerly associated with our
movements and actions since the first of January, and upon the fact
that I was to leave this house on a 13th. Just then there was the same
nocturnal knocking (three taps, as though made by a hammer on a board)
that I had heard twice before in this room.

We lunched at Charles's, with Louis Blanc.

I then went to see Rochefort. He lives at 80, Rue Judaique. He is
convalescent from an attack of erysipelas that at one time assumed a
dangerous character. With him I found MM. Alexis Bouvier and Mourot,
whom I invited to dinner to-day, at the same time asking them to
transmit my invitation to MM. Claretie, Guillemot and Germain Casse,
with whom I want to shake hands before I go.

On leaving Rochefort's I wandered a little about Bordeaux. Fine church,
partly Roman. Pretty Gothic flowered tower. Superb Roman ruin (Rue du
Colysee) which they call the Palais Gallien.

Victor came to embrace me. He left for Paris at 6 o'clock with Louis
Blanc.

At half past 6 I went to Lanta's restaurant. MM. Bouvier, Mourot and
Casse arrived. Then Alice. We waited for Charles.

Charles died at 7 o'clock.

The waiter who waits upon me at Lanta's restaurant entered and told me
that somebody wanted to see me. In the ante-chamber I found M. Porte,
who lets the apartment at 13, Rue Saint Maur, that Charles occupied. M.
Porte whispered to me to get Alice, who had followed me, out of the way.
Alice returned to the salon. M. Porte said to me:

"Monsieur be brave. Monsieur Charles--"

"Well?"

"He is dead!"

Dead! I could not believe it. Charles! I leaned against the wall for
support.

M. Porte told me that Charles had taken a cab to go to Lanta's, but had
told the cabman to drive first to the Cafe de Bordeaux. Arrived at
the Cafe de Bordeaux, the driver on opening the door of the cab, found
Charles dead. He had been stricken with apoplexy. A number of blood
vessels had burst. He was covered with blood, which issued from his nose
and mouth. The doctor summoned pronounced him dead.

I would not believe it. I said: "It is a lethargy." I still hoped. I
returned to the salon, told Alice that I was going out, but would soon
be back, and ran to the Rue Saint Maur. I had hardly reached there when
they brought Charles.

Alas! my beloved C