a phial, and, with the
very act, reeled back and fell across his chair upon the floor. The
prince left his place and came and stood above him, where he lay
convulsed upon the carpet. "Poor moth!" I heard his highness murmur.
"Alas, poor moth! must we again inquire which is the more
fatal--weakness or wickedness? And can a sympathy with ideas, surely not
ignoble in themselves, conduct a man to this dishonourable death?"

By this time I had pushed the door open and walked into the room. "Your
highness," said I, "this is no time for moralising; with a little
promptness we may save this creature's life; and as for the other, he
need cause you no concern, for I have him safely under lock and key."

The prince had turned about upon my entrance, and regarded me certainly
with no alarm, but with a profundity of wonder which almost robbed me of
my self-possession. "My dear madam," he cried at last, "and who the
devil are you?"

I was already on the floor beside the dying man. I had, of course, no
idea with what drug he had attempted his life, and I was forced to try
him with a variety of antidotes. Here were both oil and vinegar, for the
prince had done the young man the honour of compounding for him one of
his celebrated salads; and of each of these I administered from a
quarter to half a pint, with no apparent efficacy. I next plied him
with the hot coffee, of which there may have been near upon a quart.

"Have you no milk?" I inquired.

"I fear, madam, that milk has been omitted," returned the prince.

"Salt, then," said I; "salt is a revulsive. Pass the salt."

"And possibly the mustard?" asked his highness, as he offered me the
contents of the various salt-cellars poured together on a plate.

"Ah," cried I, "the thought is excellent! Mix me about half a pint of
mustard, drinkably dilute."

Whether it was the salt or the mustard, or the mere combination of so
many subversive agents, as soon as the last had been poured over his
throat, the young sufferer obtained relief.

"There!" I exclaimed, with natural triumph, "I have saved a life!"

"And yet, madam," returned the prince, "your mercy may be cruelly
disguised. Where the honour is lost, it is, at least, superfluous to
prolong the life."

"If you had led a life as changeable as mine, your highness," I replied,
"you would hold a very different opinion. For my part, and after
whatever extremity of misfortune or disgrace, I should still count
to-morrow worth a tr