keep of the Grimaldis, once lords of all the azure coast; below us
glittered Mentone, pink and blue and golden in the sun; beyond Monte
Carlo sat throned, siren-like, upon her rock.

Terry had scarcely engaged the attention of the officials when the buzz
of a motor, livelier and more nervous than our faithful "thrum, thrum,"
called to us to turn our heads; and there was Prince Dalmar-Kalm's
brilliant car flying up the hill, even as we had wished to fly.

The Prince stopped his motor close to ours, to speak with the Countess
sitting alone in it, and announced that he would have overtaken us long
ago, had he not found himself obliged to pause for a talk with the
ex-Empress Eugenie.

This announcement much impressed Mrs. Kidder, who doubtless realized
more fully than before her good fortune in having such a distinguished
personage for a travelling companion.

He stood leaning on the side of our luggage-wreathed vehicle, with an
air of charming condescension. There was no need for him to hurry over
the formalities of the _douane_, he said, for even if he were
considerably behind us in starting, he would catch us up soon after we
had reached La Mortola.

Thus beguiled, the half-hour occupied by the leisurely officials in
providing us with papers and sealing the car with an important looking
leaden seal, passed not too tediously for the ladies. Finally, the
Prince saw us off, smiling a "turned-down smile" at our jog trot as we
proceeded up that everlasting hill, which runs like a shelf along the
face of the great grey cliff of rock.

Far below, azure waves draped the golden beach with blue and silver
gauze and fringed it daintily with a foam of lace.

Then, at last, the steep ascent came to an end, with a curve of the road
which plunged us down into a region of coolness and green shadow.

"Why, I don't think Italy's so shabby after all," exclaimed the
Countess. "Just see that pretty little Maltese cross above the road, and
that fine school-house--"

"Ah, but we're in Hanbury-land now," I said.

"Hanbury-land? I never heard of it. Is it a little independent
principality like Monacoa? But how funny it should have an
English-sounding name sandwiched in right here between Italy and
France."

"The lord of the land is an Englishman, and a benevolent one, a sort of
fairy god-father to the poor in all the country round," I explained.
"You won't find Hanbury-land mentioned on the map; nevertheless it's
very real, fortun