She was fond of finding an appropriateness in names, and
sometimes, if she were tired or a little discouraged, she repeated her
own aloud, several times over: "Victoria, Victoria. I am Victoria,"
until she felt strong again to conquer every difficulty which might rise
against her, in living up to her name. Now she was of opinion that
Stephen's face would do very well in the picture of a young knight of
olden days, going out to fight for the True Cross. Indeed, he looked as
if he had already passed through the preparation of a long vigil, for
his face was worn, and his eyes seldom smiled even when he laughed and
seemed amused. His features gave her an idea that the Creator had taken
a great deal of pains in chiselling them, not slighting a single line.
She had seen handsomer men--indeed, the splendid Arab on the ship was
handsomer--but she thought, if she were a general who wanted a man to
lead a forlorn hope which meant almost certain death, she would choose
one of Stephen's type. She had the impression that he would not hesitate
to sacrifice himself for a cause, or even for a person, in an emergency,
although he had the air of one used to good fortune, who loved to take
his own way in the small things of life.
And so she finally went to sleep thinking of Stephen.
It is seldom that even the _Charles Quex_, one of the fastest ships
plying between Marseilles and Algiers, makes the trip in eighteen hours,
as advertised.
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