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urging some point with a sheepish look on his face.
    As I brought the car to rest, the Grand Duchess cut him short.
    “I’ve told you,” she said, using German, “I do not care. I wish you no ill, of course. But I wouldn’t lift a finger to save your throne.”
    With that, she turned her head and her eyes met mine.
    I was gazing at her as at something which is not of this world; for, now that I saw her clearly, her beauty was so excelling that, for all the good they did me, I might have had no manners and indeed no one of the senses, save only that of sight.
    She had pulled off her hat, and her soft, short hair was so black that the lights in its waves were blue. Her nose was aquiline, and her steady, grave eyes were grey. Her mouth was especially lovely, but very proud: her colour was high and healthy and her skin very white and, indeed, her whole countenance was fine and fresh and vivid as a flower may be in a garden before the sun is high. She was slim and tall for a woman and stood very well. There was nothing about her which was not feminine, yet it was very plain that her little finger was thicker than the Duke’s loins. Her look was keen and fearless, her temples were wise, and I have never seen such dignity so artlessly displayed.
    As I gazed, I saw her displeasure and hastily bowed my head to examine the instrument-board, but my cheeks and my ears were burning, and so, when I think of that moment, they do to this day.
    The Grand Duchess was speaking in English.
    “You may as well introduce them if I am to give them lunch.”
    The words stung like a whip, and almost before I knew it I was standing by the side of the car with my hat in my hand.
    I addressed myself to the Duke.
    “We never lunch,” I said quietly, “but, if you’d like us to give you a lift to Vigil, we’ll throw a fly over that water and be back here in two hours.”
    The Duke stared at me.
    “D’you mean you never—”
    “Never,” said I shortly, and glanced at my watch. “Shall we say half past one?”
    “That’ll suit me all right,” said the Duke. “But don’t you want a drink, or—”
    But I was back in my seat.
    “At half past one,” I said, smiling, and let in the clutch.
    Now George, who had never descended, was up on his feet, and the servants had only just time to get aboard: when, therefore, the car shot forward, each clawed hold of the other and all fell down in a heap upon the back seat, presenting a spectacle which must have been more diverting than the antics of any clowns. But the first I knew of it was the long, fresh peal of a girl’s laughter ringing under the archway as the Rolls passed over the bridge.
     
    We did not fish, but, since on leaving Salzburg we had taken food for two days, we lunched in a blowing meadow ten miles away.
    I cannot pretend that we made a festive meal.
    We had put ourselves out and about for a notorious wastrel, who accepted our services as though the privilege of doing them greatly outweighed their worth: I had forgotten my manners in a most unfortunate way, and in return we had been deliberately insulted by a girl who was plainly no more than twenty years old, who, by her relation to the Duke, might very well be considered to be in our debt: my zeal to be gone had made us a laughing-stock – a point upon which the Grand Duchess had taken care to insist; and, worst of all, I had in my haste engaged us to suffer for another five hours a well-nigh insufferable guest.
    However, there was nothing to be done, and I gratefully remember that George very handsomely declined to blame me at all, declaring that if there had been anything to retrieve, I had much more than retrieved it by my very pointed refusal to meet the Grand Duchess at all, “while as for staring,” he added, “I don’t know what the hussy expects. If she likes to look like a Madonna, talk like Queen Elizabeth and get her clothes made in Savile Row, anyone may be pardoned for staring. And now let’s go back and