s as the titled order of Great Britain, taking them
collectively, never existed elsewhere.

A German, with any thing like independence, lives a life of
tobacco-smoking and snipe-shooting. An Italian, is content to eke out
life with a _cafe_ and a theatre--lemonade and a "_liaison_" are enough
for him. The government of foreign states, in shutting out the men of
rank and fortune from political influence, have taken the very shortest
road to their degradation. What is to become of a man who has a
Bureaucracy for a government and Popery for a religion?

But what is the tumult in the little court-yard beneath my window? Ha!
an English equipage! How neatly elegant that low-hung phaeton! and
how superb in figure and style that pair of powerful dark-brown
thoroughbreds!--for so it is easy to see they are, even to the smart
groom, who stands so still before the pole, with each hand upon the bars
of the bits. All smack of London. There is an air of almost simplicity
in the whole turn-out, because it is in such perfect keeping. And here
come its owners. What a pretty foot!--I might almost say, and ankle,
too! How gracefully she draws her shawl around her! What! my friend Sir
Gordon himself? So, this is Mdlle. Howard! I wish I could see her face.
She will not turn this way. And now they are gone. How distinctive
is the proud tramp of their feet above the shuffling shamble of the
posters!

So, it is only a "_piccolo giro_" they are gone to make along the lake,
and come back again, to dinner. I thought I heard him say my name to his
valet, as he stepped into the carriage. Who knocks at the door? I was
right; Sir Gordon has sent to invite me to dine at six o'clock. Shall I
go? Why should I think of it? I am sick, low, weak, heart and body. Nay,
it is better to refuse.

Well, I have written my apology, not without a kind of secret regret,
for somehow I have a longing--a strange wish, once more, to feel the
pleasant excitement of even so much of society; but, like the hero of
the Peau de Chagrin, I dread to indulge a wish, for it may lead me more
rapidly down to my doom. I actually tremble lest a love of life, that
all-absorbing desire to live, should lie in wait for me yet. I have
heard that it ever accompanies the last stage of my malady. It is
better, then, to guard against whatever might suggest it. Pleasure could
not--friendship, solicitude, kindness might do so.

CHAPTER IV. _Villa Cimarosa, Logo di Como_.

It is a w