She was also accompanied by a considerable number of princes and Russian lords. Her flotilla consisted of eighty-four ships, manned by three thousand seamen. The King, Stanislaus-Augustus, awaited the Czarina at Kanew. She slowly descended the Borysthenes in a galley as magnificent as that of Cleopatra. The Prince de Ligne left the flotilla in a small Zaporavian canoe to announce Catherine’s arrival to the King. An hour later the great lords of the empire came to fetch him in a gunboat brilliantly decorated. Whilst stepping on board he said, with the inexpressible charm of manner and pleasant tone of voice so peculiar to him: “Gentlemen, the King of Poland has requested me to commend to you Comte Poniatowski.” The dinner was very gay, and while the King’s health was drunk, three salutes were fired by the artillery of the whole fleet. Afterwards the King gave a supper to all the nobles of his retinue. The fleet had cast anchor before the palace improvised for him; no sooner had night closed in than a general conflagration on the neighbouring shores of the Borysthenes simulated an eruption of Vesuvius, lighting up the valleys, the mountains, and the river in a most glorious manner. The glare of the fires lit up the fantastic display of the brilliant squadrons of Polish cavalry. Stanislaus had spent three months and three millions in order to see the Czarina for three hours. She had loved him, but, long ago, this love had been replaced by others; and now she slowly and cruelly tore from him the shreds of the kingdom she had formerly bestowed. They separated with all the appearance of friendliness, but during their short meeting the King had had time to perceive that there was no hope of reviving the past. This was the last interview that took place between Catherine and Stanislaus. Eight years later she dethroned him with her own hands. The Emperor Joseph met the Czarina at Kherson, and they continued together on their travels, which resembled those of a fairy tale. “I still fancy I am dreaming,” says the Prince de Ligne, “when I recall that journey, in an enormous coach large enough for six people, quite a triumphal chariot in fact, studded all over with precious stones, and drawn by sixteen horses of the Tartar race. How, as I sat between two persons, on whose shoulders I would sink at times, overcome by the heat, I would be startled by such snatches of conversation as these:-- “‘I have thirty millions of subjects, I am told, counting only the males.’ “‘And I, twenty-two,’ replied the other, ‘counting all.’