He dreaded to hear the announcement of physical suffering, though he well knew it must soon come, and marked with indescribable anguish the change that rapidly began to be manifested in his friend.  But even this most terrible of all maladies was influenced by the gallant spirit of him on whom it was now preying; for not a complaint, not a murmur, broke from his lips:  and it was not until Mr. Strangways had repeatedly urged the most affectionate inquiries that he admitted he was not quite well.

Delirium quickly followed; but even then this noble-minded young man bore up against the fearful assaults of disease, and thought and spoke only of those dear and absent friends he was doomed never again to behold.  It was a dreadful trial to Mr. Strangways to sit by the bed of death, far, far away from home and friends, endeavouring to cool the burning brow and to refresh the parched lips of him so fondly loved in that distant land of which he raved.

He spoke of his home, of those who made it so dear to him, and even the songs of infancy were again murmured by the dying lips.  His friend quitted him not for a minute until all was over; and he was left indeed alone to watch, over the corpse of him whom he had tried in vain to save.

That Mr. Strangways should have escaped the contagion, seems little less than miraculous.  I, who have known him so long and so well, attribute it to the state of his mind, which was so wholly occupied by anxiety for his friend as to leave no room for any thought of self.

Made no entry in my journal for two days, owing to a slight indisposition, which furnished an excuse for laziness.

Dined at Lointier’s yesterday—­a splendid repast given by Count A. de Maussion, in consequence of a wager, lost on a subject connected with the line arts.  The party consisted of all those present at our house when the wager was made.  The Duc and Duchesse de Guiche, Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hare, the Duc de Talleyrand, Duc de Dino, Count Valeski, Mr. J. Strangways, and our own large family circle.

The dinner was the most recherche that could be furnished:  “all the delicacies of the season,” as a London paper would term it, were provided; and an epicure, however fastidious, would have been satisfied with the choice and variety of the plats; while a gourmand would have luxuriated in the quantity.

Nothing in the style of the apartments, or the service of the dinner, bore the least indication that we were in the house of a restaurant.

A large and richly furnished salon, well lighted, received the company before dinner; and in a salle a manger of equal dimensions, and equally well arranged, the dinner was served on a very fine service of old plate.

Count de Maussion did the honours of the dinner a merveille, and it passed off very gaily.  It had been previously agreed that the whole party were to adjourn to the Porte St. Martin, at which Count de Maussion had engaged three large private boxes; and the ladies, consequently, with one exception, came en demi-toilette.