And with this sum he hired six hundred butcher boys of Alca to run behind Chatillon's horse and shout, "Hurrah for the Emiral!" Henceforth Chatillon could not take a single step without being cheered.
Viscountess Olive asked him for a private interview.

He received her at the Admiralty* in a room decorated with anchors, shells, and grenades.
* Or better, Emiralty.
She was discreetly dressed in greyish blue.

A hat trimmed with roses covered her pretty, fair hair, Behind her veil her eyes shone like sapphires.

Although she came of Jewish origin there was no more fashionable woman in the whole nobility.

She was tall and well shaped; her form was that of the year, her figure that of the season.
"Emiral," said she, in a delightful voice, "I cannot conceal my emotion from you.