‘Then, are you the captain, my good Herr Heilbrunn?’ the margravine asked my father.

He was dressed in cheerful blue, wearing his cheerfullest air, and seemed strongly inclined for the part of captain, but presented the actual commander of the schooner-yacht, and helped him through the margravine’s interrogations.

‘All is excellent,—­excellent for a day’s sail,’ she said.  ’I have no doubt you could nourish my system for a month, but to deal frankly with you—­prepared meats and cold pies!—­to face them once is as much as I am capable of.’

‘Dear Lady Field-Marshal,’ returned my father, ’the sons of Neptune would be of poor account, if they could not furnish you cookery at sea.’

They did, for Alphonse was on board.  He and my father had a hot discussion about the margravine’s dishes, Alphonse declaring that it was against his conscience to season them pungently, and my father preaching expediency.  Alphonse spoke of the artist and his duty to his art, my father of the wise diplomatist who manipulated individuals without any sacrifice of principle.  They were partly at play, of course, both having humour.

It ended in the margravine’s being enraptured.  The delicacy of the invalid’s dishes, was beyond praise.  ’So, then, we are absolutely better housed and accommodated than on shore!’ the margravine made her wonder heard, and from that fell to enthusiasm for the vessel.  After a couple of pleasant smooth-sailing days, she consented to cruise off the coasts of France and England.  Adieu to the sands.  Throughout the cruise she was placable, satisfied with earth and sea, and constantly eulogizing herself for this novel state of serenity.  Cards, and a collection of tripping French books bound in yellow, danced the gavotte with time, which made the flying minutes endurable to her:  and for relaxation there was here the view of a shining town dropped between green hills to dip in sea-water, yonder a ship of merchandise or war to speculate upon, trawlers, collier-brigs, sea-birds, wave over wave.  No cloud on sun and moon.  We had gold and silver in our track, like the believable children of fairyland.

The princess, lying in her hammock-cot on deck, both day and night, or for the greater part of the night, let her eyes feast incessantly on a laughing sea:  when she turned them to any of us, pure pleasure sparkled in them.  The breezy salt hours were visible ecstasy to her blood.  If she spoke it was but to utter a few hurried, happy words, and shrink as you see the lightning behind a cloud-rack, suggestive of fiery swift emotion within, and she gazed away overjoyed at the swoop and plunge of the gannet, the sunny spray, the waves curling crested or down-like.  At night a couple of sailors, tender as women, moved her in the cot to her cabin.  We heard her voice in the dark of the morning, and her little maid Aennchen came out and was met by me; and I at that hour had the privilege to help move her back to her favourite