about my accident, but in a hollow, sepulchral tone.  ‘Take care of your foot,’ said he; ’I know by experience how painful it must be.’  I could not stay near his bed:  a flood of tears rushed into my eyes, and I was obliged to withdraw.”  Neither Count Gamba, indeed, nor Fletcher, appear to have been sufficiently masters of themselves to do much else than weep during the remainder of this afflicting scene.

In addition to the bleeding, which was repeated twice on the 17th, it was thought right also to apply blisters to the soles of his feet.  “When on the point of putting them on,” says Mr. Millingen, “Lord Byron asked me whether it would answer the purpose to apply both on the same leg.  Guessing immediately the motive that led him to ask this question, I told him that I would place them above the knees.  ‘Do so,’ he replied.”

It is painful to dwell on such details,—­but we are now approaching the close.  In addition to most of those sad varieties of wretchedness which surround alike the grandest and humblest deathbeds, there was also in the scene now passing around the dying Byron such a degree of confusion and uncomfort as renders it doubly dreary to contemplate.  There having been no person invested, since his illness, with authority over the household, neither order nor quiet was maintained in his apartment.  Most of the comforts necessary in such an illness were wanting; and those around him, either unprepared for the danger, were, like Bruno, when it came, bewildered by it; or, like the kind-hearted Fletcher and Count Gamba, were by their feelings rendered no less helpless.

“In all the attendants,” says Parry, “there was the officiousness of zeal; but, owing to their ignorance of each other’s language, their zeal only added to the confusion.  This circumstance, and the want of common necessaries, made Lord Byron’s apartment such a picture of distress and even anguish during the two or three last days of his life, as I never before beheld, and wish never again to witness.”

The 18th being Easter day,—­a holiday which the Greeks celebrate by firing off muskets and artillery,—­it was apprehended that this noise might be injurious to Lord Byron; and, as a means of attracting away the crowd from the neighbourhood, the artillery brigade were marched out by Parry, to exercise their guns at some distance from the town; while, at the same time, the town-guard patrolled the streets, and informing the people of the danger of their benefactor, entreated them to preserve all possible quiet.

About three o’clock in the afternoon, Lord Byron rose and went into the adjoining room.  He was able to walk across the chamber, leaning on his servant Tita; and, when seated, asked for a book, which the servant brought him.  After reading, however, for a few minutes, he found himself faint; and, again taking Tita’s arm, tottered into the next room, and returned to bed.