reason for song. So with me any excess was
open to me just because it was impossible!

"Still," thought I, "great criminals— and
surely I am not as bad as they— eat very
heartily." And so I cut the tough fowl
vigorously in two and placed half of it on my plate.
I filled myself out a whole goblet of wine, and
drank it off. I repeated this, and felt better. I
fell to now with a will, and really made an excellent
supper. There were some potted sardines
that I secretly resolved to have for my breakfast,
when the sudden thought flashed across
me that I was never to breakfast any more. I
verily believe that I tasted in that one instant a
whole lifelong of agony and bitterness.

There was in my friendless, lone condition, my
youth, the mild and gentle traits of my nature,
and my guileless simplicity, just that combination
of circumstances which would make my
fate peculiarly pathetic, and I imagined my
countrymen standing beside the gravestone and
muttering " Poor Potts!" till I felt my heart
almost bursting with sorrow over myself.

"Cut off at three-and-twenty!" sobbed I;
"in the very opening bud of his promise!"

"Misfortune is a pebble with many facets,"
says the Chinese adage, "and wise is he who
turns it around till he find the smooth one."

"Is there such here?" thought I. "And
where can it be?" With all my ingenuity I
could not discover it, when at last there crossed
my mind how the event would figure in the daily
papers, and be handed down to remote posterity.
I imagined the combat itself described in the
language almost of a lion-hunt. "Potts, who
had never till that moment had a sword in his
hand— Potts, though at this time severely
wounded, and bleeding profusely, nothing
dismayed by the ferocious attack of his opponent
Potts maintained his guard with all the
coolness of a consummate swordsman."How I
wished my life might be spared just to let me
write the narrative of the combat. I would
like, besides, to show the world how generously
I could treat an adversary, with what delicacy
I could respect his motives, and how nobly deal
even with his injustice.

"Was that two o'clock?" said I, starting up,
while the humming sound of the gone bell filled
the room. "Is it possible that but three hours
now stand between me and—— " I gave a
shudder that made me feel as if I was standing
in a fearful thorough draught, and actually
looked up to see if the window were not open;
but no, it was closed, the night calm, and the
sky full of stars. "Oh!" exclaimed I, "if
there are Pottses up amongst you yonder, I
hope destiny may deal more kindly by them
than down here. I trust that in those glorious
regions a higher and purer intelligence prevails,
and, above all things, that duelling is proclaimed
the greatest of crimes." Remnant of barbarism!
it is worse ten thousand times; it is the whole
suit, costume, and investure of an uncivilised
age. "Poor Potts!" said I; "you went out
upon your life-voyage with very generous
intentions towards posterity. I wonder how it
will treat you? Will it vindicate your memory,
uphold your fame, and dignify your motives?
Will it be said in history, 'Amongst the memorable
events of the period was the duel between
the Prince Max of Swabia and an Irish gentleman
named Potts? To understand fully the
circumstance of this remarkable conflict, it is
necessary to premise that Potts was not what
is vulgarly called constitutionally brave; but he
was more. He was—— ' Ah! there was the
puzzle. How was that miserable biographer
ever to arrive at the secret of an organisation
fine and subtle as mine? If I could but leave
it on record— if I could but transmit to the ages
that will come after me the invaluable key to
the mystery of my being— a few days would
suffice— a week certainly would do it— and why
should I not have time given me for this? I
will certainly propose this to the Rittmeister
when he comes. There can be little doubt but
he will see the matter with my own eyes."

As if I had summoned him by enchantment,
there he stood at the door, wrapped in his great
white cavalry cloak, and looking gigantic and
ominous together.

"There is no carriage-road," said he, "to the
place we are going, and I have come thus early
that we may stroll along leisurely, and enjoy the
fresh air of the morning."

Until that moment, I had never believed how
heartless human nature could be! To talk of
enjoyment, to recal the world and its pleasures,
in any way, to one situated like I, was a cold
and scarcely credible cruelty; but the words did
me good service— they armed me with a sardonic
contempt for life and mankind— and so I
protested that I was charmed with the project, and
out we set.

My companion was not talkative; he was a
quiet, almost depressed man, who had led a very
monotonous existence, with little society among
his comrades; so that he did not offer me the
occasion I sought for of saying saucy and sneering
things of the world at large. Indeed, the
first observation he made was that we were in a
locality that ought to be interesting to Irishmen,
since an ancient shrine of St. Patrick marked
the spot of the convent to which we were
approaching. No remark could have been more
ill timed; to look back into the past, one ought
to have some vista of the future. Who can
sympathise with bygones when he is counting
the minutes that are to make him one of them?

What a bore that old Rittmeister was with
his antiquities, and how I hated him as he said,
"If your time was not so limited, I'd have taken
you over to St. Gallen to inspect the
manuscripts." I felt choking as he uttered these
words. How was my time so limited? I did
not dare to ask. Was he barbarous enough to
mean that if I had another day to live, I might
have passed it pleasantly in turning over musty
missals in a monastery?

At last we came to a halt in a little grove of
pines, and he said, "Have you any address to
give me of friends or relatives, or have you any
peculiar directions on any subject."