My health began to alarm Mamma; I was growing thin and pale. Our doctor believed I was overstraining myself with lessons, and instead of prescribing me a lot of horrid drugs, he had the capital idea of sending us to sun ourselves for a week or two on the Riviera. We followed willingly his agreeable prescription and set off speedily to Nice. Mere child as I was, I already indulged in a decided taste for adventures, and experienced one on the road. During the night, we were pushed into a railway carriage full of passengers; one of them, a very good-looking young man, made room for us and went to find for himself another place. The next morning, whilst we were breakfasting at the Station of Marseilles, a waiter brought me a beautiful bouquet, followed by our amiable fellow-passenger of the previous night, who proved to be a Mexican fresh from South America. He opened the conversation by telling us that his name was _Gallardo Alvarez_, and hinted that he was an unmarried millionaire, making his first pleasure tour in Europe. Studying him stealthily I decided that he would do. We stopped at the same hotel with Señor Alvarez, who soon began to show me that he was deeply interested in me. In fact I won him entirely. He was a man of volcanic passions and inflammable as gun-cotton, his eyes said even more than his words. Unfortunately the liking was not mutual, he did not make my heart beat. Though I was a girl to change her passions in a hurry, I was so taken up with Jeffrey, that I had no thought for any one else, just then; my Mexican conquest was rather amusing and kept me from yawning, that’s all, but nevertheless I gave him a fair amount of encouragement. I suppose I am a flirt, but I cannot help being nice to men. My Transatlantic adorer followed me about like my shadow; go where I would, he was ever at my heels and at last it became quite wearisome. I was awfully bored and did the utmost to show it to him by being uncivil and not nice, and he only received hard words from me. Oh! I can easily snub anyone if I wish! I told him one day, he needn’t stick to me so, but no, in spite of my rebuffs, he wouldn’t stir from my side; he only exclaimed piteously: “Princess Vava, why are you so awfully hard on me?” He was a persevering wooer that Don Alvarez, telling me that he had already fallen a victim to my blue eyes in the sleeping-car, and that he thought of me all day and dreamt of me all night since, then and a lot more idiotic bosh. He often bothered me with compliments that I affected not to hear. He likened me to Venus and told me that I was his goddess and the wonder of the world, a being created to be fallen in love with, and that I would remain as a gem set in his mind for evermore. But I only made fun of his high-flown sentiments. One night at the Opera, whilst Faust was “cooing” his romance to Margaret, Señor Alvarez asked me suddenly: “Tell me, who is the prettiest person in this house!” I raised