“Too true. And he treats his own family no more indulgently than he treats the public. He has kept his daughters under restraint for a week upon a diet of bread and water merely for yawning at church. And in the Greek Church, you must know, one has to stand, and not sit; and the service usually lasts three hours.” “Who would be a grand duchess?” smiled Wilfrid. “Times will be different when little Sasha comes to the throne.” “And who is little Sasha?” asked Wilfrid absently. “The Czarovitch, to be sure—Alexander.” “Of course—called little because he is like his father in stature?” This remark drew a laugh from the Baroness and a smile from her maid. “‘Little’ is a term of endearment. He stands six feet two inches high in his boots.” “My height exactly,” remarked Wilfrid. Pauline paused with her cup half-way to her lips, and looked doubtfully at Wilfrid. “I don’t think that you are _quite_ as tall as Alexander.” “Six feet two in my boots,” asseverated Wilfrid. Pauline drank her tea thoughtfully. Presently she said:— “You’ll think me silly, but I am quite curious to know which is the taller, you or Alexander.” “How shall we settle this weighty matter?” “Easily enough. Alexander’s exact height is to be seen on the panel behind that curtain. He called at the Embassy last week, and, _mon père_ being out, it fell to me to entertain his Imperial Highness. He had tea here, just as you and I are having it now, and, if you’ll believe it, the conversation took a similar turn to ours—that is to say, we talked of his stature. I was actually so daring as to doubt the word of a Czarovitch, so just to convince me, he laughingly stood against yonder wall, like a recruit about to be measured, while I, with a piece of black crayon, marked his height upon a panel, and found it to be, as I have said, six feet two inches. See!” Walking to the place indicated, Pauline drew aside the tapestry, revealing upon the white panel behind a short black horizontal line, and something more as well that she had not mentioned, for the line rested upon the life-size silhouette of a human profile, drawn with black crayon, presumably the profile of Alexander. “Now, if you want to measure yourself with little Sasha—?” said Pauline. So, to please her, Wilfrid stood with his back against the panel, and Pauline saw that the crown of his head was on a level with the charcoal line, showing that his stature differed little, if at all, from that of the Czarovitch. “And this, I presume, is his profile,” said Wilfrid, falling back to obtain a better view. “Drawn by—?”