“My companion and chaperon—once my English teacher—Miss Murray, was confined to the house by a slight attack of bronchitis, which she was carefully nursing lest it should become serious. “I was walking on the esplanade, attended by my French governess. “At that early hour, ten in the morning, there were but few people out besides nursemaids and children. “We were sauntering along slowly, when we saw coming toward us Anglesea and another young gentleman, walking arm in arm, apparently on the most friendly and even affectionate terms. “In a few minutes we met face to face. “Anglesea bowed, and then presented his companion: “‘Prince Luigi Saviola.’ “Madame de la Champe received the stranger’s low bow with all the courtesy of her nation. “I do not know how I received him, I wore a little round turban hat, with a little thin, gray gauze mask veil over my face, which completely shaded my features, while it enabled me to look at the stranger. “I know not if there be any such thing as love at first sight; for the only real, lasting love of my life was of slow growth, as you know, Abel. Oh, Abel! you do know that I love you! “No! I do not believe there is such a thing as real love at first sight; but I do know that there is a madness that apes it. “Some fascination made me look at this Italian from behind the shield of my gray veil, while he talked with my vivacious French governess, who quickly engaged him in conversation. “He was young—quite youthful, indeed; and—it is a very effeminate term to apply to a man—but he was beautiful—not handsome, but beautiful. He was of medium height and slender proportions; but he was perfectly elegant in form and perfectly graceful in gesture. His profile was purely, finely Grecian. His complexion pale and clear, his hair, eyebrows and mustache of darkest brown; his eyes of darkest violet blue. Yet all this description gives but the outline of the youth’s form and face—it cannot give the subtle and exquisite charm of expression which was the chief beauty of his aspect, nor can it give the lingering music of the most melodious voice that ever spoke. “Are you displeased with me, that I describe this stranger so minutely? “I do it in cold blood, Abel, and only that you may understand and perhaps pardon the fascination he possessed over a sensitive, imaginative young recluse, such as I had been. And some instinct told me even then that this attraction was mutual, though we did not exchange a word, and he could clearly see my face. “After a few moments of courteous conversation, the two young gentlemen bowed and walked on. “I went home in a dream—the face and voice of the young stranger haunting my spirit. “The Frenchwoman made some few favorable remarks on the manner and appearance of the young Italian; but I did not reply—I could not. “I passed the day in a vision. I was like one possessed. “Two days later young Anglesea made us the first call of many days.