To add to the romance of this voyage, the genii of the upper elements stopped his motor, shortly after his return, and the bold sailor in his shining ship landed in a stately chestnut tree very near the house of the Princess Isabel, daughter of Dom Pedro. She very thoughtfully arranged a breakfast for him and sent it up in a basket, where he was at work disengaging the balloon, at the same time inviting him to call and relate to her the story of his voyage. A few days later she sent him a medal of St. Benedict “that protects against accidents.” He wore the medal, and on his very next trial escaped without a scratch from an appalling accident which might have terminated fatally. He continued to wear the gift of that gracious princess, on a thin gold chain circling his wrist, and many a time thereafter endured unscathed the most dreadful accidents, as if he possessed a charmed life. On August 8, 1901, the dauntless aëronaut again sailed for the coveted prize, at the same still morning hour, sacred to duels and aërial contests. In nine minutes he turned the tower and headed bravely for home. But soon a leaky valve let the balloon shrink and the wires sag into the whirring propeller, which therefore had to be stopped. Santos-Dumont now had the choice of drifting back against the tower and destroying his vessel high in air, or of descending at once, by allowing the balloon to sink without discharge of ballast. He chose the latter course, hoping to land on the Seine embankment; but instead his balloon struck the top of the Trocadero hotel, exploded and fell in fluttering shreds into the courtyard. Some firemen who had been watching the flight from a distance, came with a rope and found the long car leaning like a ladder against the wall of the court, the balloon shreds hanging from it in graceful folds, and Captain Santos-Dumont perched aloft in his wicker basket wearily waiting for St. Benedict’s further aid. As usual, he was rescued intact.