He had been in the service some two years by now, and those who knew him well rather wondered at his sedative turn of mind.

Two years in any one place was not in reckoning as regarded Carmichael; yet, here he was, caring neither for promotion nor exchange.

So, then, all logical deductions simmered down to one: _Cherchez la femme_.
He knew that his case would never be tried in court nor settled out of it; and he realized that it would be far better to weigh anchor and set his course for other parts.

But no man ever quite forsakes his dream-woman; and he had endued a princess with all the shining attributes of an angel, when, had he known it, she was only angelic.
The dreamer is invariably tripping over his illusions; and Carmichael was rather boyish in his dreams.

What absurd romances he was always weaving round her! What exploits on her behalf! But never anything happened, and never was the grand duke called upon to offer his benediction.
It was all very foolish and romantic and impossible, and no one recognized this more readily than he.