Poke his leg! Hardly knowing what I did,
but certainly acting on an impulse rather defensive
than curious, I made a feeble dab with my
parasol at one of those mighty members, which
had been slid bashfully a few inches nearer to
me.

The giant mistook my demonstration.

"Don't be afraid, I beg. No delusion, my
dear madam. All fair flesh and blood, I pledge
you my honour. The circumference of my calf
is twenty-two inches and a quarter; that is to
say, considerably more than your—your waist."
Again the giant sighed.

It was excessively embarrassing. I could not
make out whether my colossal friend expected
compliment or condolence. If he was ashamed
of his dreadful calf, why present it to my
notice? If proud, why sigh?

Presently, he drew himself up to his full
height, and, extending his arms like the sails of
a windmill, invited me to pass beneath. In this
attitude he appeared so very gigantic, that my
courage, always wavering, gave way. The
dread and antipathy of my nursery days came
upon me with overwhelming power. I grew
hot and cold, felt faint, began to cry.

The giant, alarmed, regained with a start his
natural position.

"You are agitated, my dear madam! Permit
me, I beseech you—the sofa—Ohi, Alphonse!"
(to the blue boy)—"a glass of water for
madame! Quick!—"Is it possible," he continued,
"that your generous, tender heart has suggested
—dare I believe that . . . . For Heaven's sake,
answer! What, oh what, has moved you thus?"

"Your—size!" I gasped, half resentfully.
And fainted.

I went home in a carriage, and was for several
days far from well. During that interval I had
numerous visitors, almost all of whom
mentioned, as one of the topics of the hour, the
advent and extraordinary success of Monsieur
Dermot O'Leary, the renowned "géant Irlandais.
"As for me, I preserved the secret of our
interview with religious care, trying, though
with little success, to regard it rather as a
horrible dream than an actual occurrence, and
nursing myself diligently into travelling condition,
with the fixed intention of quitting the
giant-haunted precincts. In the mean time, with
the curious inconsistency I have described, my
ears drank in every word that bore reference
to the great subject.

"Certainly. Remarkable man," I heard one
of my visitors observing. "One is apt to
associate some degree of awkwardness with the
movement of large bodies. Now, with Monsieur
Dermot O'Leary all is tranquil ease—careless
grace—a complete——"

"So perfectly unembarrassed!" put in a
lady. "His self-possession is singular! Sitting
there, the object of every eye, most of them
furnished with opera-glasses (for the room was
literally crammed), you would have imagined
him one of the least interested spectators,
rather than the marvel all had come to see."

"Converses so well!"

"So thoroughly well! A most retentive
memory."

"One thing seems to have been deeply
impressed upon it," said the first speaker. "Did
you notice the grateful fervid enthusiasm with
which he alluded to the first—the very first—
visit he received here? It gave me a strong
prepossession in his favour: the more so,
because it is clear to me that he is a man accustomed
to exercise considerable self-control, and to
preserve a calm exterior, whatever lurks within."

A calm exterior!

"I am confident," concluded my friend, with
a smile, "that this first mysterious visitor was
a lady."

I am afraid it was, I thought.

Left alone, I fell into a deep reverie. Something
whispered that it was to my unlucky visit
the monster had referred; but why on earth
my franc should have impressed him more deeply
than any of the thousands that had succeeded,
I could not divine. Then, why was his manner
so different—calm and collected with everybody
else, nervous and diffident with me? Vanity
itself could not insinuate that there was
anything in my person or manner especially
calculated to captivate this Polypheme. The bare
thought of being in the remotest degree
associated, as it were, with the tremendous man,
almost threw me into a fever. I resolved to
leave the place the very next day.

The train to my destination not starting
until the afternoon, I took advantage of this
to bid farewell to a friend who lived in the next
street; I paid my visit, and was again within a
hundred yards of home, when a carriage, going at
a foot pace, and attended by a crowd of several
hundred men and boys, cheering something at
the full pitch of their lungs, turned into the street.

I hate a crowd, and skipping up quickly on a
door-step, stood well back to let the people pass.
It was a fatal movement. As the mob swept by,
a gigantic head became visible, peering from the
carriage-window, which it exactly filled. It was
He! His eye caught me in a moment. The
immense table-land of his face was covered with
a scarlet blush. He smiled, and kissed his hand:
not ungracefully it must be owned, but still in
such a manner as to induce his attentive escort
to turn to see who could be the giant's
particular friend! They probably expected
another giant; there was a sort of derisive
disappointed laugh, and—

"A cheer for madame!" squeaked a
mischievous little urchin near me. It was given.
On swept the procession, and I hardly knew
what was passing till I found myself on the
sofa, half fainting with shame and annoyance;
nor could I regain my tranquillity of spirit till
I was fairly on my road away.

The groves and gardens of the place of my
destination had just put on the fresh green robes
of spring, and I was in the full enjoyment of
the change of scene and season, when I had the
additional delight of meeting an old friend, who
had arrived the previous day. She was on
her road to England, and purposing to halt but