are inferior to my own, I am in honour bound to support her through.  Besides, she is a very pretty woman—­ask Moore—­and not yet one and twenty.

     “If she gets over this and I get over my tertian, I will, perhaps,
     look in at Albemarle Street, some of these days, en passant to
     Bolivar.”

[Footnote 60:  The following curious particulars of his delirium are given by Madame Guiccioli:—­“At the beginning of winter Count Guiccioli came from Ravenna to fetch me.  When he arrived, Lord Byron was ill of a fever, occasioned by his having got wet through;—­a violent storm having surprised him while taking his usual exercise on horseback.  He had been delirious the whole night, and I had watched continually by his bedside.  During his delirium he composed a good many verses, and ordered his servant to write them down from his dictation.  The rhythm of these verses was quite correct, and the poetry itself had no appearance of being the work of a delirious mind.  He preserved them for some time after he got well, and then burned them.”—­“Sul cominciare dell’ inverno il Conte Guiccioli venne a prendermi per ricondurmi a Ravenna.  Quando egli giunse Ld.  Byron era ammalato di febbri prese per essersi bagnato avendolo sorpreso un forte temporale mentre faceva l’ usato suo esercizio a cavallo.  Egli aveva delirato tutta la notte, ed io aveva sempre vegliato presso al suo letto.  Nel suo delirio egli compose molti versi che ordino al suo domestico di scrivere sotto la sua dittatura.  La misura dei versi era esatissima, e la poesia pure non pareva opera di una mente in delirio.  Egli la conservo lungo tempo dopo restabilito—­poi l’ abbruccio.”

I have been informed, too, that, during his ravings at this time, he was constantly haunted by the idea of his mother-in-law,—­taking every one that came near him for her, and reproaching those about him for letting her enter his room.]

* * * * *

LETTER 347.  TO MR. BANKES.

     “Venice, November 20. 1819.

“A tertian ague which has troubled me for some time, and the indisposition of my daughter, have prevented me from replying before to your welcome letter.  I have not been ignorant of your progress nor of your discoveries, and I trust that you are no worse in health from your labours.  You may rely upon finding every body in England eager to reap the fruits of them; and as you have done more than other men, I hope you will not limit yourself to saying less than may do justice to the talents and time you have bestowed on your perilous researches.  The first sentence of my letter will have explained to you why I cannot join you at Trieste.  I was on the point of setting out for England (before I knew of your arrival) when my child’s illness has made her and me dependent on a Venetian Proto-Medico.

     “It is now seven years since you and I met;—­which time you have
     employed better for others and more honourably for yourself than I
     have done.