"If this is love," said Orlando to herself, looking at the Archduke on the other side of the fender, and now from the woman's point of view, "there is something highly ridiculous about it."
[...]
Was it impossible then to go for a walk without being half suffocated, presented with a toad set in emeralds, and asked in marriage by an Archduke?
Virginia Woolf: Orlando: A Biography