“Well, here goes; I have only to draw on memory,” said he, with a sigh; “I suppose you don't remember seeing in the papers, about a year and a half ago, that the Prince of Cobourg Cohari--not one of our Cobourgs, but an Austrian branch--came over to visit the Queen. He brought his daughter Olga with him; she was called Olga after the Empress of Russia's sister. And such a girl! She was nearly as tall as you, Tony,--I'll swear she was,--with enormous blue eyes, and masses of fair hair that she wore in some Russian fashion that seemed as if it had fallen loose over her neck and shoulders. And were n't they shoulders! I do like a large woman! a regular Cleopatra,--indolent, voluptuous, dreamy. I like the majestic languor of their walk; and there is a massive grandeur in their slightest gesture that is very imposing.” “Go on,” muttered Tony, as the other seemed to pause for a sentiment of concurrence. “I was in the Household in those days, and I was sent down with old Dollington to Dover to meet them; but somehow they arrived before we got down, and were comfortably installed at the 'Lord Warden' when we arrived. It did not matter much; for old Cohari was seized with an attack of gout, and could not stir; and there I was, running back and forward to the telegraph office all day, reporting how he was, and whether he would or would not have Sir James This or Sir John That down to see him! Dollington and he were old friends, fortunately, and had a deal to say to each other, so that I was constantly with Olga. At first she was supremely haughty and distant, as you may imagine; a regular Austrian Serene Highness grafted on a beauty,--fancy that! but it never deterred _me_; and I contrived that she should see mine was the homage of a heart she had captivated, not of a courtier that was bound to obey her. She saw it, sir,--saw it at once; saw it with that instinct that whispers to the female heart, 'He loves me,' ere the man has ever said it to himself. She not only saw, but she did not discourage, my passion. Twenty little incidents of our daily life showed this, as we rambled across the downs together, or strolled along the shore to watch the setting sun and the arrival of the mail-boat from Calais.