Suddenly, unannounced, Lord Raymond entered my apartment. He came in gaily,

singing the Tyrolese song of liberty; noticed me with a gracious nod, and

threw himself on a sopha opposite the copy of a bust of the Apollo

Belvidere. After one or two trivial remarks, to which I sullenly replied,

he suddenly cried, looking at the bust, "I am called like that victor! Not

a bad idea; the head will serve for my new coinage, and be an omen to all

dutiful subjects of my future success."

He said this in his most gay, yet benevolent manner, and smiled, not

disdainfully, but in playful mockery of himself. Then his countenance

suddenly darkened, and in that shrill tone peculiar to himself, he cried,

"I fought a good battle last night; higher conquest the plains of Greece

never saw me achieve. Now I am the first man in the state, burthen of every

ballad, and object of old women's mumbled devotions. What are your

meditations? You, who fancy that you can read the human soul, as your

native lake reads each crevice and folding of its surrounding hills--say

what you think of me; king-expectant, angel or devil, which?"

This ironical tone was discord to my bursting, over-boiling-heart; I was

nettled by his insolence, and replied with bitterness; "There is a spirit,

neither angel or devil, damned to limbo merely." I saw his cheeks become

pale, and his lips whiten and quiver; his anger served but to enkindle

mine, and I answered with a determined look his eyes which glared on me;

suddenly they were withdrawn, cast down, a tear, I thought, wetted the dark

lashes; I was softened, and with involuntary emotion added, "Not that you

are such, my dear lord."

The Last Man