It was impossible to overlook its resemblance to my own visage.

This was so great that for a moment I imagined myself to have been the original from which it had been drawn.
This flattering conception yielded place to a belief merely of similitude between me and the genuine original.
The thoughts which this opinion was fitted to produce were suspended by a new object.

A small volume, that had, apparently, been much used, lay upon the toilet.

I opened it, and found it to contain some of the Dramas of Apostolo Zeno.

I turned over the leaves; a written paper saluted my sight.