gne, well acquainted with the biography of the principal English
statesmen, replied that he had commenced his career as Mr. Ferrers,
and reminded Teresa that they had once been introduced to him in Paris.
Cesarini suddenly rose and left the room; his absence was not noted,
for his comings and goings were ever strange and fitful. Teresa soon
afterwards quitted the apartment with her children, and De Montaigne,
who was rather fatigued by the exertions and excitement of the morning,
stretched himself in his chair to enjoy a short _siesta_. He was
suddenly awakened by a feeling of pain and suffocation,--awakened in
time to struggle against a strong grip that had fastened itself at his
throat. The room was darkened in the growing shades of the evening; and,
but for the glittering and savage eyes that were fixed on him, he could
scarcely discern his assailant. He at length succeeded, however, in
freeing himself, and casting the intended assassin on the ground. He
shouted for assistance; and the lights borne by the servants who rushed
into the room revealed to him the face of his brother-in-law. Cesarini,
though in strong convulsions, still uttered cries and imprecations of
revenge; he denounced De Montaigne as a traitor and a murderer! In the
dark confusion of his mind, he had mistaken the guardian for the distant
foe, whose name sufficed to conjure up the phantoms of the dead, and
plunge reason into fury.

It was now clear that there was danger and death in Cesarini's disease.
His madness was pronounced to be capable of no certain and permanent
cure; he was placed at a new asylum (the superintendents of which
were celebrated for humanity as well as skill), a little distance from
Versailles, and there he still remained. Recently his lucid intervals
had become more frequent and prolonged; but trifles that sprang from his
own mind, and which no care could prevent or detect, sufficed to renew
his calamity in all its fierceness. At such times he required the
most unrelaxing vigilance, for his madness ever took an alarming and
ferocious character; and had he been left unshackled, the boldest and
stoutest of the keepers would have dreaded to enter his cell unarmed, or
alone.

What made the disease of the mind appear more melancholy and confirmed
was, that all this time the frame seemed to increase in health and
strength. This is not an uncommon case in instances of mania--and it
is generally the worst symptom. In earlier youth, Ce