this prospect, which he considered nothing less than ruin, before his
eyes, the poor young man was, it seems, on the point of committing that
fatal act which, two or three years afterwards, he actually did
perpetrate. Retiring to his own room, he had already drawn forth the
poison from his medicine chest, and was pausing to consider whether he
should write a letter before he took it, when Lord Byron (without,
however, the least suspicion of his intention) tapped at the door and
entered, with his hand held forth in sign of reconciliation. The sudden
revulsion was too much for poor Polidori, who burst into tears; and, in
relating all the circumstances of the occurrence afterwards, he declared
that nothing could exceed the gentle kindness of Lord Byron in soothing
his mind and restoring him to composure.

Soon after this the noble poet removed to Diodati. He had, on his first
coming to Geneva, with the good-natured view of introducing Polidori
into company, gone to several Genevese parties; but, this task
performed, he retired altogether from society till late in the summer,
when, as we have seen, he visited Copet. His means were at this time
very limited; and though he lived by no means parsimoniously, all
unnecessary expenses were avoided in his establishment. The young
physician had been, at first, a source of much expense to him, being in
the habit of hiring a carriage, at a louis a day (Lord Byron not then
keeping horses), to take him to his evening parties; and it was some
time before his noble patron had the courage to put this luxury down.

The liberty, indeed, which this young person allowed himself was, on
one occasion, the means of bringing an imputation upon the poet's
hospitality and good breeding, which, like every thing else, true or
false, tending to cast a shade upon his character, was for some time
circulated with the most industrious zeal. Without any authority from
the noble owner of the mansion, he took upon himself to invite some
Genevese gentlemen (M. Pictet, and, I believe, M. Bonstetten) to dine at
Diodati; and the punishment which Lord Byron thought it right to inflict
upon him for such freedom was, "as he had invited the guests, to leave
him also to entertain them." This step, though merely a consequence of
the physician's indiscretion, it was not difficult, of course, to
convert into a serious charge of caprice and rudeness against the host
himself.

By such repeated instances of thoughtlessn