I have read somewhere a fairy tale in which people were waited on by invisible servants, so that the dishes took and left their places on the table as it were of their own accord, and in perfect silence. It was, in a sort, after this manner that the Admiral's wants and pleasures were supplied. The room being at the end of a wing had windows upon three sides--west and south and east; and each window, of course, had heavy close lattices of a dark green colour, as well as projecting awnings of a striped canvas, which could be raised or lowered at pleasure. By aid of these the Admiral could have as much tempered sun as he desired almost from sunrise to sunset; and it seemed as if he never could have his fill of sun. He often said in after years with regret, that _living_ meant living on the Mediterranean. The windows opening on three sides, and the nearness of the sea also, gave always a pleasant current of air; and in this great airy chamber, always kept cool, and always full of gracious sunshine, with noiseless hands and feet a succession of diversions were provided in the same unobtrusive way by the hostess herself. For though it was the Admiral's bed-chamber, after he had had his light breakfast served in the morning, it was really more of a reception-room, where, as he felt well enough, he transacted the business which was so near his heart, where a great man and son of Anak like Captain Troubridge might be seen waiting and watching with the affection of a woman. My Lady was famous for her deep, soft voice. She would be singing and singing a room or two away for the Admiral to hear her, as it were by accident; and he would lie and listen, and she would sing until the dream was broken by some mischance. At another time she floated into the room unobserved, carrying in her hands a long Indian scarf or shawl, and went through the "Attitudes," a species of tableaux vivants for which she was so celebrated. The Admiral was resting, and did not see her for some time after she had begun; and we, not feeling sure that he did not sleep, though I think she had made sure, stood trying to express by dumb show our astonishment and applause. The Admiral gave no sign beyond opening his eyes dreamily; but he told her afterwards that he had never seen illusions so perfect, grace so absolute, beauty so divine. But I think he was most moved when she stole in to his side to bring him flowers or grapes, or a healing ptisane, and stayed smoothing his pillow, laying cool bandages on his wounded head, taking his hands in those magnetic hands, which were so smooth and yet so strong, and in a rich, low voice--not asking how he _felt_, but telling him of all the pleasant things prepared for him to do in a day or two, when the surgeon had pronounced that he should be ready--telling him what king and people alike were saying about their liberator, telling him this good jest, and that, with a woman's reverence for a hero.