said, after a few swallows of ice-water had somewhat restored my
equilibrium; "but I do feel very dismally about this voyage--have done
so ever since I left Beauseincourt. This is the last straw on the
camel's back, believe me, General Curzon. You must not reproach yourself
in the least--nor me; and now let me bid you farewell once more, perhaps
eternally!"

These words of mine were remembered later in a very different spirit
from that in which they were then received (one of incredulous
compassion)--remembered as are ever the last utterances of the doomed,
whether innocent or guilty, in solemn awe and reverential tenderness,
not unmingled with a superstitions faith in presentiment.

"Why, you look bluer than your very obvious veil, bluer than your
invisible school-marmish stockings, bluer than the skies, or a blue bag,
or Madame de Staël's 'Corinne,' or Byron's 'dark-blue ocean,'" said
Major Favraud, as he assisted me again into the carriage, where Dr.
Durand and Marion awaited me, for, as I have said, we were now on our
way to the vessel which was to bear me and my destinies forever from
that lovely Southern land in which I had seen and suffered so much.

Dr. Durand looked serious at the sight of my woful aspect, and Marion
mutely proffered her _vinaigrette_, gratefully accepted, as was the good
doctor's compassionate silence; but, as usual, Favraud, after having
once gotten fairly under weigh, ran on. "What is the use of bewailing
the inevitable?" he pursued. "We have all seen your _penchant_ for
Curzon, and his for you, for three days past; but Octavia is as tough as
_lignum-vitæ_, I regret to assure you, my dear Miss Harz, and your
chance is _as blue_ as your spirits, or the flames of snap-dragon, or
Marion's eyes. You will have to just put up with the captain, I fear,