CHÂTEAU DE CROIXMARE

Château de Croixmare,

_Monday, 29th August_.

[Sidenote: _The Sights of the Foire_]

Dearest Mamma,--Oh, we had such fun yesterday! After Mass the Baronne

sent over to ask if Jean, Héloise, and I would go with them to the

_Foire_ at _Lavonnière_, a village about ten miles off. It is a very

celebrated _Foire_, and in the last century every one went from

Versailles, and even now lots of people who spend the summer there

attend. You go in the evening after dinner, and there are no horrid

cows and things with horns rushing about, or tipsy people. Godmamma

looked awfully severe when she heard of the invitation; but since the

row, when they had to cajole me, she has been more civil, so she said I

might go if Héloise would really look after me, although if I was

Victorine she would not have permitted it for a moment.

[Sidenote: _On a Motor Car_]

We left here about six, and then picked up the party at Tournelle. They

all went--the old Baron, and every one, except the Marquis's mother. We

dropped the brougham there, and went on with them in a huge motor car

(that is another fad of the Baron's). It is lovely motor-carring; you

get quite used to the noise and smell, and you fly along so, it takes

your breath away; even with your hat tied on with a big veil, you have

rather the feeling you have got to screw up your eyebrows to keep it

from blowing away. We seemed to be no time doing the ten miles. The

Baronne and Héloise hate it, and never go in it except under protest.

The _Foire_ is just one very long street, with booths and

merry-go-rounds, and _Montagnes Russes_, and all sorts of amusing

things down each side. There are rows of poplar trees behind them, and

evidently on ordinary occasions it is just the usual French road, but

with all the lights and people it was gay.

We stopped at the village inn, the "_Toison d'Or_" which is famous for

its restaurant and its landlady. In the season the Duc de Cressy's

coach comes here from Paris every Thursday. Hippolyte was there

already; he had been sent on to secure a table for us. We had no sooner

sat down under the awning than the Vicomte and "Antoine" and two other

officers turned up. They had ridden from Versailles, which is near.

Such extraordinary people sat at some of the tables! Families of almost

peasants at one, and then at the next perhaps two or three lovely

ladies, with very smart dresses and big hats, and lots of pearls, and

some young men in evening dress. And then some respectable _bourgeois_,

and so on. I could hardly pay attention to what the Marquis, who sat

next me, was saying, the sight was so new and entertaining.

The tables had cloths without any starch in them, and the longest bread

rolls I have ever seen. One of the beautiful ladies with the pearls

used hers to beat the man next to her before they had finished dinner.

We did not have fresh forks and knives for everything, but the famous

dish of the place made up for it. It is composed of _poussins_--that

is, very baby chickens--raw oysters, and cream and truffles. You get a

hot bit of chicken into your mouth and think it is all right, and then

your tongue comes against an iced oyster, and the mixture is so

exciting you are stimulated all the time; and you drink a very fine old

Burgundy with it, which is also a feature of the place. I am sure it

ought to poison us, as oysters aren't in for another month, but it is

awfully good.

[Sidenote: _Chevaux au Galop_]

One of the strange officers is so amusing; he looks exactly like the

young man the Marquise de Vermandoise was walking in the Bois with, but

it could not be he, as she seemed so surprised to see him at the

_Foire_, and said they had not met for ages. The Comte sat on my other

side; he said I would be greatly amused at the booths presently, and

was I afraid of _Montagnes Russes_? That is only an ordinary

switchback, Mamma, so of course I am not afraid. There were Tziganes

playing while we dined, and it was all more amusing than anything I

have done here yet. When we had drunk our coffee we started down the

_Foire_. There were hundreds of people of every class, but not one

drunk or rude or horrid.

The first entertainment was the _Chevaux au Galop_, a delightful

merry-go-round with the most fiery prancing horses, three abreast, and

all jumping at different moments. The Marquis helped me up, and Jean

got on the other side; we all rode except the Comtesse and the old

Baron. It was _too_ lovely; you are bounced up and down, and you have

to hold on so tight, and every one screams, and the band plays; and I

wish you could do it, Mamma. I am sure the thorough shaking would

frighten your neuralgia away. I could have gone on for an hour, but

there was such a lot to see, we could not spare the time for more than

one turn. The Marquis whispered when he helped me off that his walk

down the Champs Elysées had indeed been fortunate, as he had seen me,

and that it was he who had suggested to the Baronne to come to the

_Foire_. So of course I felt grateful to him. We walked all together

more or less, but Jean kept glued to my side, which was rather a bore,

only the Marquis or the Vicomte were always at the other side.

[Sidenote: _The Ennui of the Lions_]

The next place we came to was a huge menagerie of clever animals, with

their _Dompteurs_--cages of lions, bears, tigers, &c. There were sets

of seats before the cages where anything interesting was going on, and

the audience moved up as each new Dompteur came in to the animals. We

sat down at first in front of the tigers' cage, the Baronne next to me

this time. The creatures went through astonishing tricks, and looked

such lazy great beautiful cats. The _Dompteur_ was a handsome man, just

the type they always are, with a wide receding forehead and flashing

eyes. They positively blazed at the brutes if they did not obey him

instantly. I wonder why all "tamers" have this shape of head? I asked

the Vicomte, but he did not know. The bears came next, horrid cunning

white things, and turning in their toes like that does give them such a

frumpish look.

The attraction of the show was to see the great _Dompteur_, Pezon. He

had been almost eaten by his lions a few months ago, and was to make

his reappearance accompanied by a beautiful songstress who would charm

the beasts to sleep. Pezon was just like the other _Dompteurs_, only

older and fatter, and the beautiful lady was such a pet! _Enormously_

stout, in pink satin, with quite bare neck and arms; the Vicomte said

that the lions had to be surfeited with food beforehand, to keep them

from taking their dessert off this tempting morsel. She began to sing

through her nose about "_l'amour_," &c., and those lions did look so

bored; the eldest one simply groaned with _ennui_. His face said as

plainly as if he could speak, "At it again to-night!" and "Oh! que cela

m'embête." When the song was finished, the _Belle Chanteuse_ stretched

herself on two chairs, making herself into a sort of bridge for the

animals to jump over. From our position we could only see mountains of

pink satin _embonpoint_, and the soles of her feet. The lions had the

greatest difficulty in jumping not to kick her. What a life, Mamma!

Then Pezon put his head right into the old lion's mouth, and so ended

the performance.

[Sidenote: _Inspecting the Machinery_]

When we got outside, a man was ringing a bell opposite, to invite every

one in to see a woman with only a head; she could speak, he said, but had

no body. The Baronne insisted upon going in. It was a tiny cell of a

place and crammed full. Presently a head appeared on a pedestal and spoke

in a subdued voice. All the others said it was a fraud, but I thought it

wonderful. "Antoine" wanted to go beyond the barrier and touch it, which

was mean of him, I think. Presently a villainous-looking old hag, who was

exhibiting the creature, came over, and whispered in "Antoine's" ear. I

only caught "_cinq francs_," but his face looked interested at once, and

he and Jean disappeared behind the curtain and the head disappeared too,

so we went outside, and bought "farings" at the next booth. There they

joined us. "Alors, mes amis?" demanded every one. "Pas la peine, très mal

faite," said "Antoine"; so I suppose it was the machinery they had been

examining. The next thing we came to was a sort of swing with flying

boats, but no one was brave enough to try it except the Marquise and me,

though all the men wanted to come with us. You sit opposite one another,

and they are much higher than the ones in England. Jean would come with

me, though I wanted the Vicomte--so I was glad it made him look quite

green.

It chanced that "Antoine" was beside me as we walked to the pistol

booth, so I asked him if he had been in Paris on Friday, and he looked

so hard at me, you would have thought I was asking a State secret; but

he said that alas! no, he had been detained at Versailles. So it could

not have been him after all; there must be a lot of French people

exactly alike, I never keep making these mistakes in England.

Have you ever fired off a pistol, Mamma? it is simply horrid. The

pistol booth was next after the "farings" shop, and the prizes were

china monsters and lanterns, &c. The Comtesse is a splendid shot, and

hit the flying ball almost each time; she is such a quiet little thing,

one would not expect it of her. The Baronne made a lot of fuss, and

said she knew it would kill her, until Hippolyte, who was behind the

party with her cloak, said: "Madame la Baronne doit essayer c'est

nécessaire que toutes les belles jeunes dames sachent comment se

défendre." And she fired off the pistol at last with her eyes shut,

and it was a mercy it did not kill the attendant, the ball lodged in

the wall just beside him, so we thought we had better leave after that!

[Sidenote: _The Montagnes Russes_]

Next came the _Montagnes Russes_. How I love a switchback, Mamma! If I

were the Queen I would have a private one for myself, and my particular

friends, round Windsor Castle; I could go on all day. The Marquis and

the Vicomte kept so close to me that Jean could not take the seat

beside me, as I saw he intended to, and then the other two made quite a

shuffle, but the Vicomte won. The person who sits next you is obliged

to hold your arm to prevent your tumbling out. I looked round to see,

and every one was having her arm held, but I don't believe the Vicomte

need have gripped mine quite so tight as he did. We had three turns;

next time the Marquis was beside me, and he was more violent than the

Vicomte. So when it came to the last, and Jean scrambled in, and began

to hold tighter than either of the others, I just said my arm would be

black and blue, and I would rather chance the danger of falling out,

in a seat by myself, than put up with it. That made him sit up quite

straight. I can't see why people want to pinch one; can you, Mamma? I

call it vulgar, and I am sure no Englishman would do it. It seems that

Frenchmen are awfully respectful, and full of ceremony and politeness,

and then every now and then--directly they get the opportunity--they do

these horrid little tricks.

The next entertainment was really very curious. It was a marble woman

down to her waist, and as you looked, the marble turned into flesh, her

eyes opened, and she spoke; then her colour faded, and she turned into

marble again, and was handed round the audience; wasn't it wonderful,

Mamma? I can't think how it was done, and as "Antoine" and Jean did not

go behind the curtain to examine the machinery, I suppose we shall

never know.

[Sidenote: _The Fun of the Fair_]

After that there were endless shows--performing dogs, fortune-telling,

circuses, etc.--but the nicest of all was another merry-go-round, with

seats which went up and down like a boat in a very rough sea. Hardly

one of them would venture, but I made the Vicomte come with me for two

turns; he looked so pale at the end of it, and when I wanted to go a

third time, he said we must be getting on, and no one else offered to

come. Wasn't it stupid of them, as it was by far the most exciting part

of the _Foire_? It was half-past twelve before we got back to the

"_Toison d'Or_," and there had supper, with "_Punch à l'Américaine_."

It _is_ good, and you do feel so gay after it. One of the ladies with

the pearls, who was also supping, was so friendly to the man next her;

Pezon was of their party, and he did look common in clothes, while he

was quite handsome in spangled tights.

We were obliged to go slowly in the motor car returning, there were

such heaps of people and carts and things on the road, but we got back

to Croixmare about two; and I have slept so late this morning, so now,

good-bye, dear Mamma.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

Château de Croixmare,

_Wednesday, August 31st_.

[Sidenote: _Back at Croixmare_]

Dearest Mamma,--To-day is the dinner and _cotillon_ at the de

Tournelles'. The Marquis and the Vicomte and "Antoine" and every one

will be there, and I am sure it will be fun. The Vicomte can't get

leave for the night, so the Baronne--who was here yesterday on her

bicycle--told us. He will have to ride back to Versailles, as there are

no trains at that time, to be there for some duty at six in the

morning. I can't tell you how many miles it is; he will be tired, poor

thing. These last two days have been just alike, that is why I have not

written--the same tiresome ceremony about everything, and the same

ghastly evenings.

We went for a drive on Monday, and Godmamma did nothing but question me

as to what we had done every minute of the time while we were in Paris.

This is the first chance she has had with me alone. So I would not tell

her a scrap, even a simple thing like Héloise going to the Madeleine.

She thinks I am fearfully stupid, I can see. I forgot to tell you about

the morning we left Paris; Héloise went to see Adam again, and I went

shopping with Agnès, but I would not even tell Godmamma that! Victorine

says spiteful things to me whenever she can, but Jean and Héloise are

so charming that I don't mind the rest. We are to wear sort of

garden-party dresses and hats at the entertainment to-night. Dinner is

to be at eight, in a large pavilion, where they have had a beautiful

parquet floor laid down, and then when the tables are cleared away, we

shall begin the _cotillon_. As I have never danced in one before, I

hope I sha'n't make an idiot of myself.

[Sidenote: _Etiquette of the Bathroom_]

This morning I very nearly had another row with Godmamma--you will

never guess what for, Mamma! She knocked at the door of my room before

I was quite dressed, and then came in with a face as glum as a church.

She began at once. She said that she had heard something about me that

she hoped was a mistake, so she thought it better to ask me herself.

She understood that I went down to the Salle de Bain every day, instead

of just washing in my room. (I _have_ done so ever since Agnès

discovered there really was water enough for a decent bath there, and

that no one else seemed to use it.) I began to wonder if she was going

to accuse me of tampering with the taps--but not a bit of it! After a

rigmarole, as if she thought it almost too shocking to mention, she

said she understood from her maid, who had heard it from the _valet de

chambre_ who clears out the bath after I leave, that there never were

any wet chemises, and that she was therefore forced to conclude that I

got into my tub "_toute nue_!"

I had been so worked up for something dreadful, that I am sorry to say,

Mamma, I went into a shriek of laughter. That seemed to annoy Godmamma

very much; she got as red as a turkey-cock, and said she saw nothing to

cause mirth--in fact, she had hoped I should have been ashamed at such

deplorable immodesty, if, as she feared from my attitude, her

accusation was correct. I said, when I could stop laughing, of course

it was correct, how in the world else _should_ one get into a bath?

[Sidenote: _The Marquis Again_]

Her eyes almost turned up into her head with horror; she could only

gasp, "Mais si quelqu'un ouvrait la porte?" "Mais je la ferme toujours

à clef," I said, and then I asked her if in France they also dried

themselves in their wet chemises? But she said that that was a childish

question, as I must know it would be an impossibility; and when I said

I could not see any difference in washing or drying, she was so stumped

she was obliged to sit down and fan herself. I smoothed her down by

assuring her it was the English custom, and that I was sorry I shocked

her so. At last I got rid of her, evidently thinking our nation

"_brûlée_," as well as "_toquée_". Now aren't they too odd, Mamma? I

suppose a nice big bath is such a rare thing for them that they are

obliged to make as much fuss as possible over it. One would think they

received company there, dressing up like that! Héloise and the smart

people wash all right; it is only the girls and the thoroughly goody

ones like Godmamma who are afraid of water.

5.30 _p.m._--The Marquis came over from Tournelle with a note from the

Baronne after _déjeûner_ to-day. I happened to be getting some music

out of the big salon for Héloise when he arrived. Louis, the valet, who

showed him in, did not catch sight of me as I was behind the piano, or

he would certainly have taken him somewhere else. He began at once

(after putting his heels together) to say a lot of compliments and

things. This was a fortunate chance--more than he had dared to

hope--would I promise to dance the _cotillon_ with him to-night? etc.,

etc. You would not believe, Mamma, the amount he got into the five

minutes before Héloise came into the room. She knew it was her own

fault for sending for the music that I was alone with him, or I should

have got a scolding; as it was, she talked without ceasing until at

last he got up to go. I had not answered about the _cotillon_, so as I

have half promised the Vicomte I don't know which I shall take; perhaps

I could manage both, as I believe one only has to sit on a chair and

every now and then get up and dance. However, I will see when I get

there. Now good-bye, dear Mamma.--Your affectionate daughter,

Elizabeth.

Château de Croixmare,

_September 1st_.

[Sidenote: _A Proposal of Marriage_]

Dearest Mamma,--I have had a proposal! Isn't it too interesting? It all

happened at the de Tournelles' last night, but I never blushed or did

any of the things they used to in Miss Edgeworth's novels that you have

allowed me to read; but I must go straight on. We were quite punctual

at Château de Tournelle, and got there as the clock struck eight.

Héloise looked perfectly lovely, she does hold herself and walk so

beautifully, and her head is such a nice shape. I am going to be like

her, and not like the women at Nazeby (who all slouched) when I am

married. Victorine looked better than usual too, and Héloise had put

some powder on her face for her, but afterwards it came off in patches

and made her look piebald; however, to start she was all right, and

everybody was in a good temper. There were lots of people there

already, and the Baronne and the Comtesse received us in the hall.

I wore the white silk and my pink tulle hat. The Marquis and the

Vicomte both flew across when we arrived, and the Vicomte got to me

first, as Godmamma detained the Marquis; and this is where Frenchmen

shine, for although he told me afterwards that he wanted to murder her,

he stood with a beautiful grin on his face all the time. The Vicomte at

once began to assure me I had promised him the _cotillon_, but I would

not say; and as he could only get words in edgeways, with Victorine

listening all the time, it made it rather difficult for him. Then the

Comte and René, his little boy, came round with a silver basket full of

buttonholes and little cards with names, and by the kind of flower we

got we were to know which table we were to sit at, as they were to be

decorated with the same.

[Sidenote: _Les Jeunes Filles_]

Of course the Baronne had arranged for the Vicomte to take me in; and

our table was pink and white carnations. Presently the whole company

had arrived, and we started--a huge train, two and two, arm-in-arm--for

the pavilion. It was pretty; all the trees hung with electric lights

and Chinese lanterns, and the pavilion itself a fairyland of flowers.

There were about twelve tables, three of different coloured carnations

for the "_jeunes filles_," and the rest with roses for the married

people. Godmamma thought it most imprudent separating them like that,

and would hardly let Victorine sit down so far away from her until she

saw the daughter of the Princesse d'Hauterine at the same table.

Victorine went in with another officer from Versailles, in the same

regiment of _Chasseurs_ as the Vicomte; he was like a small black

monkey. The Marquis sat with the Comtesse at her table, and Godmamma

and the other bores had a table with the old Baron, etc. The Baronne

had quite a young man next her. I expect she could not do with the

chaperons and the old gentlemen.

Most of the girls at our table were either ill-at-ease or excited at

the unusual pleasure of being without their mothers, and at first no

one talked much. The French country people are almost as frumpy as the

English, only in a different way, but many of the guests were very

smart, and of course had come from Paris.

The Vicomte did say such a lot of agreeable things to me, and the

others were so occupied with their one chance of talking to a young man

that they did not listen as much as usual. He said he had never spent

such an agitated night as the one at Vernon. So I said No, the fleas

were horrid. He said he had not meant _them_; he meant that the sight

of my beautiful hair hanging down had caused him "_une grande émotion_"

and "_rêves délicieux_."

There was an oldish girl next to him whom he knew; she has coiffed St.

Catherine for several years now, and was put at our table, I believe,

to be a kind of chaperon. She happened to be listening just then, as

her partner would talk to Victorine's friend--the pretty one with the

dirty nails--who was at his other side. She caught the word "fleas,"

and at once asked what we were talking about. "Un sujet si

désagréable," she said. I said it was about our journey on the

_Sauterelle_, where, at Vernon, Monsieur de la Trémors had been so

badly bitten by the fleas that they had given him silly dreams. He said

his dreams were as beautiful as those produced by the Hachis of Monte

Cristo (whatever that is), so the old girl exclaimed, "Quel pouvoir

pour une puce!" She thought we were mad; and I overheard her presently

telling her partner--when she could get him to listen--that no one

would believe the _bizarre_ conversations of the _toqués_ English

unless they actually heard them!

[Sidenote: _The Cotillon_]

I would not say I would dance the _cotillon_ with the Vicomte. I told

him I had half promised it to the Marquis; and when he seemed offended,

I said if he was going to be disagreeable I would certainly dance it

with Monsieur de Beaupré (the Marquis's name, which I forgot to tell

you before). I remember hearing Octavia say once that it never did to

make oneself easy to young men, that the more capricious one was the

better; and you know how nice Octavia is, and I meant to be like her.

He went on imploring; so I told him that I had come there to enjoy

myself, not to amuse him, so I should just dance with whom I pleased,

or not at all if I happened not to want to. He said I was "_très

cruelle_," and looked perfectly wobbly-eyed at me, but I did not mind a

bit.

As dinner went on all the girls began to talk and to get excited, and

laugh, and every one was so gay; but I could see Godmamma craning her

neck with anxiety and disapproval, and I am sure, if it had not been

for the Princesse d'Hauterine being at her table, she would have jumped

up and clawed Victorine away. It came to an end at last, and we

returned arm-in-arm to the house, while the servants arranged the

pavilion for the _cotillon_. Godmamma collected Victorine and me, and

made us stay by her; and that horrid old Mme. de Visac--the one who

called me a "_jeune femme_"--came up, and they had a conversation.

Godmamma said it was "_très imprudent_" having the dinner first, that

the champagne would go to the young men's heads, and with all the care

in the world no one could foresee the consequences! The garden, too! If

they should dance the _farandole_! what opportunities! It was all the

fault of the _chère Baronne_, so sadly giddy for her age. She never

thought of the anxieties of other mothers, having married her only

daughter so young! I don't know what Godmamma feared, but I should hate

to think you could not trust me to behave like a lady, Mamma, if I was

out of your sight a moment.

[Sidenote: _Nearly a Duel_]

I saw the Marquis talking to a very young youth; he seemed pleading

with him about something, and presently the youth crossed over and

kissed Godmamma's hand, then asked Victorine for the _cotillon_. She

looked furious, but she was obliged to say yes, as no one else had

asked her; it was getting late, and the Marquis was busy speaking to

some other ladies. Presently he came up to us, and the young youth said

before he could speak: "N'ai-je pas de la veine, mon cher, Mlle. de

Croixmare m'a promis le cotillon." Upon which the Marquis asked me to

dance it with him--right out loud before Godmamma! and when I said I

had half promised it to Monsieur de la Trémors, he looked so cross and

offended, that I thought it was better to be firm with him, as I had

been with the Vicomte. He--the Vicomte--came up just then, and they

looked as if they wanted to fight each other; so I said if they would

stop frowning, I would dance it with both of them, but if they were

nasty, I should not dance it with either; and so that is how it ended,

I was to have one on each side.

Godmamma said to me that it was unheard of conduct, and might have

produced a duel, and when I tried to explain to her that that was just

what I had avoided, she looked angrier than ever, and would not

understand. Wasn't it stupid of her, Mamma?

[Sidenote: _The Two Partners_]

At last we got to the pavilion, and all sat round, and having both the

Vicomte and the Marquis to talk to, I did have fun. They arranged that

our chairs should be against the wall, and not in the row that the

chaperons were behind. Godmamma tried to make signs to me to come and

sit by Victorine in front of her, but I pretended not to see, until all

the chairs were filled up. The Marquise de Vermandoise was next me,

with the Vicomte between; she was dancing with the Comte. We _were_

gay! The first set of presents were big brocade bags, and we called one

our "_pot au feu_" and pretended it was for the ingredients to make

_bon ménage_, and so all the presents that were small enough afterwards

we put in there to keep for me. I did have _lots_! A _cotillon_ is very

easy, Mamma, as you have often told me, and it was fun dancing with all

sorts of strange people that one did not even know. In one figure a

huge Russian prince got hold of me, and squeezed me until I very nearly

screamed; you see, Mamma, how dreadful foreigners are like that. It was

like being hugged by a bear in the Zoo; and after it, he kept giving me

flowers or presents if I dared to sit down for a moment, but he did not

say a word except once or twice a mumble of "Adorable mademoiselle."

My two partners _were_ nice, we had a perfectly beautiful time, they

laughed at everything I said; and Madame de Vermandoise leant over and

whispered--while they were both away doing a figure--that never had any

one had such a _succès_ as me, and that all the old ladies would be

ready to tear my eyes out. Héloise did not dance with "Antoine," but he

sat next her, and they talked while his partner was away with other

people. It is much better to have two partners, Mamma, because then one

is not left to oneself at all, and they are each trying to be nicer

than the other all the time. The Comtesse led the _cotillon_ with a

cousin of hers; he does do it well, and does nothing else in Paris, the

Baronne told me. At last we got on towards the end, and they began the

_farandole_. You know it, Mamma? A lady and a gentleman take hands,

then she beckons some one, and he has to come; and then he calls

another lady, and so on. It goes on until the whole company are

hand-in-hand; and the leader runs about everywhere with this chain of

people after him, dancing a long sliding step, to such a lovely

go-ahead tune. The leader tears all over the garden, and one is obliged

to follow in and out. It is too exciting, and just as we got to the

furthest end of the illuminated paths, and had rushed round into the

dark, some one let go, and in the confusion of trying to catch on

again, the Marquis and I were left behind.

[Sidenote: _To Elope with the Marquis_]

It was _then_ the proposal happened, he did not wait a moment; he

talked so fast I could hardly understand him. He said he had heard that

it was the custom of our country to speak directly to the person one

loved, without consulting the parents; so he hoped I would believe he

meant me no disrespect, but that he _adored_ me. He had fallen in love

at first sight, when he went to review Victorine--that he implored me

to fly with him, as his mother would never consent to his marrying an

English woman! Think of it, Mamma! me flying with the Marquis! without

a wedding cake, or bridesmaids, or pages, or trousseau, or any of the

really nice bits of getting married--only the boring part of just

going away and staying with one man, without any of the other things to

make up for it. I nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of it, only he

was so deadly in earnest, and would hold my hand. I said I could not

think of such a thing, and would he take me back to the pavilion? He

became quite wild then, and said he would kill himself with grief; and

such a lot of things about love; but I was so wanting to join in the

_farandole_ again--we heard them coming nearer--that my attention was

all on that, and I did not listen much.

Anyway, I am sure runaway matches aren't legal in France, from what I

heard Jean saying two nights ago at dinner; and I told him so at last,

and that pulled him up short. And just then the train passed, and I

stretched out my hand to the last man, and was whirled away back to the

pavilion and the people. I _was_ glad to get away from the Marquis,

because he looked desperate, and you can't trust foreigners, they have

pistols and things in their pockets, and he might have shot me. When

we got back to our seats, the _défilé_ began and I took the Vicomte's

arm to go and make our curtsey to the Comtesse and the Baronne. It was

just as well the Marquis was away, because they might have quarrelled

as to which one's arm I was to take.

[Sidenote: _Godmamma's Friends_]

Just before the supper tables were brought in, Monsieur de Beaupré

turned up again. His face was green; he came up behind me, and

whispered through his teeth that I had broken his heart, and that he

should marry Victorine! So you see, Mamma, nothing could have turned

out better, and they ought to be very grateful to me.

We had the gayest supper, all at little tables; and it was arranged

that we should go with the de Tournelles, and the Baronne, to a _Ralli

de Papier_ to-day, given by the _75th Cuirassiers_ at the Forêt de

Marly.

While we were going to the house to get our wraps, I overheard two

ladies talking of Godmamma. They said she gave herself great airs, and

considering that every one knew that years ago she had been the _amie_

of that good-looking Englishman at the Embassy these high stilts of

virtue were ridiculous. I suppose to be an _amie_ is something wicked

in French, but it doesn't sound very bad, does it, Mamma? And, whatever

it is, I wonder if poor papa knew, as he was at the Embassy, and it

might have been one of his friends, mightn't it? I expect she had not a

moustache then.

I am dreadfully afraid the Vicomte won't be able to be at the _Ralli_

to-day, although he did whisper when he was putting on my cloak that

nothing should keep him away, and that then I would believe the extent

of his devotion. He won't have gone to bed at all, if he does turn up,

as he will only have got back to Versailles just in time for his duty

at six, and how he is to be in the Forêt de Marly by ten I don't know,

but we shall see. It is just time to start, the brake is at the door,

so good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter,

Elizabeth.

Château de Croixmare,

_Thursday Night, September 1st_.

[Sidenote: _The "Ralli de Papier"_]

Dearest Mamma,--I wonder if you have ever been to a _Ralli de Papier_?

It is fun. We got to Marly at last after a long drive. The _rendezvous_

was in the middle of the forest, in such a lovely glade, and although

it rained for the last twenty minutes of our drive, the sun came out

when we got there, and the lights through the trees on the wet green

were so beautiful. There were quantities of carriages already arrived,

every sort--victorias, coaches, pony carts, charabancs, motor cars, and

a few of the really odd kinds of shandrydans that one sees coming to

country garden parties in England. There were also numbers of officers

riding in uniform--_cuirassiers, chasseurs, dragons_--and they were to

take part in the chase. There was one officer who was to lead the

carriages in a procession through the short cuts, so that we might not

miss any of the jumps, and he had a horn slung over his shoulder. I do

think it such a sensible plan; and if we could have the foxes trained

in England to go just where they should, and then always drive to where

the jumps are, like that, how much nicer hunting would be--wouldn't it,

Mamma?

[Sidenote: _Better than Fox-hunting_]

Well, at last every one seemed to be arrived, and it was gay. I was

glad Godmamma had been too tired to come, so Victorine was actually

trusted with Jean and Héloise and me. We had picked up the Baronne and

the Comte and the Marquise de Vermandoise at Tournelle on our way. The

brake was not quite like an English one; it had seats facing, and then

an extra one behind for the grooms, and Jean drove with Héloise beside

him; but he does look like a trussed pigeon, and if the horses were not

as quiet as mice, I am sure the Baronne would never have trusted

herself with him.

[Sidenote: _The Vicomte up to Time_]

They all began to chaff about the Vicomte; "Il ne chevauchera jamais si

loin, pas même pour vos beaux yeux," the Marquise said. Victorine

seemed annoyed that any one should expect he would do anything for me.

"Evidemment Monsieur de la Trémors ne viendra pas," she said. I saw a

beautiful black horse being led about by a groom, apart from the crowd,

and I wondered who would ride it. Just before the horn sounded for the

carriages to start, from the farthest end of the _allée_ we saw an

officer galloping as hard as he could. "Mon Dieu! C'est Gaston!"

screamed the Baronne. "C'est pour vous, Enchanteresse," said the Comte.

"Que c'est ridicule," snapped Victorine, while the Marquise laughed and

put her tongue into her gap. "Oh! la belle jeunesse!" she said.

Meanwhile the Vicomte had dismounted, jumped on to the fresh black

horse, and was bowing beside us. "Vous voyez je suis venu," he said,

and he looked only at me. I don't know why, Mamma, but I felt the blood

rushing all over my cheeks; it was nice of him, wasn't it? He had

arranged it all yesterday, and by changing horses and galloping the

whole way, he had managed just to get to the _rendezvous_ in time. I

don't believe any Englishman that I know would do so much for me, and

I was touched. We were fortunate in being almost the first carriage

behind our leader, the officer with the horn, and he took us across

roads, and we halted at last, where we could see the whole hunt

advancing to some hurdles which had been erected at a few yards'

distance from each other down the _allée_. Such an excitement! every

one encouraging them at the top of their voices, their uniforms

glittering in the sun.

The jumps were not very high, and most of the officers got over all

right, only one _cuirassier_ fell, and every one shrieked, but he

wasn't a bit hurt. We clapped those who jumped especially well, and

cried "Bravo!" It _was_ fun. Then, when they had all passed, we were

conducted through some more short cuts to another set of hurdles

covered with green boughs, and these were a little higher. It did sound

lively, with horns blowing and people shouting all the time. The

Vicomte was among the last, as he passed us following the paper, but he

waved gaily. We had to drive very quickly to be in time for the next

"_obstacles_" and so it went on. When we watched the last ones, the

Vicomte was among the very front four.

[Sidenote: _Rewards of Gallantry_]

Then the exciting part began, as they had to race for the ribbons,

white for the winner and blue for the second; but it was quite a long

way, so we had time to get to the winning-post, the flat place near

where the Château stood formerly. There were long tables laid out with

_goûter_, and the bands of the regiments playing nice tunes. Victorine

began to be disagreeable directly we saw them coming, the Vicomte well

to the front. "Comme c'est cruel de Monsieur de la Trémors, de presser

son cheval à ce point," she said, while even the Comte became excited,

and shouted, "Bravo, Gaston!" I _was_ pleased when he came in first,

and really he rides quite nicely, Mamma.

Then every one got out of the carriages and there was a ceremony. The

wife of the Colonel of the 75th chasseurs (young and nice looking)

placed a white ribbon with gold fringe ends round the neck of the

Vicomte, while he knelt and kissed her hand on the damp grass, and when

he got up there was quite a wet stain on his knees. The second man--a

great lumbering _cuirassier_--got a blue ribbon, and as he was heavier

the stain showed worse on his red trousers. After that, we all began to

eat cakes and drink drinks (I don't know what they were made of, that

is why I say "drinks," anyway they were sweet and nice), and as the

rain had stopped we danced on the green, after we had finished. Now you

know, Mamma, we could never have any fun like this in England. What

Englishman would think of dancing the Lancers on sopping grass, quite

gravely, with a white ribbon round his neck like a pet lamb, and his

trousers wet through at the knees? They would simply laugh in the

middle, and spoil the whole thing. The Vicomte danced with me, of

course, and while we were advancing to our _vis-à-vis_ in the first

figure, he managed to whisper that he adored me, and now that he had

ridden all night, and won the white ribbon for me, I ought to believe

him. I did not answer because there was not time just then, and he

looked so reproachfully at me for the rest of the Lancers.

[Sidenote: _The Whispered Declaration_]

It began to rain again before we finished, and we got into the brake as

quickly as we could. It was a perfect wonder that they were not all

exclaiming at their wet feet, and catching cold; but it seems that

dancing on the green and these sort of _fêtes champêtres_ are national

sports, and you don't catch cold at them. It is only washing, and

having the windows open, and the house aired, and things like that,

that give cold in France. The Vicomte came back with us, and, as he was

one too many for the brake, we had to sit very close on our seat. He

was between the Baronne and Victorine, who made room for him when he

was just going to sit down by me. She kept giggling all the way home,

and the Vicomte looked so squashed and uncomfortable. I was next,

beyond the Baronne, and as both of them could not keep up their

umbrellas, Victorine was obliged to put down hers, and the drips from

the Baronne's umbrella got on to the roses in Victorine's hat. At last

they ran in a red stream right down her nose, and she did look odd, and

each time she said anything to the Vicomte, he nearly had a fit to

keep from laughing, and when we got back and she found how she was

looking she _was_ cross.

The Vicomte took hold of my hand when he helped me out, it wasn't in

saying good-bye, as of course unmarried people only bow and don't shake

hands. Somehow his spur caught in my dress, and we had to stop a minute

to disentangle it, the others had bolted into the house, as they were

afraid of the rain, so we were alone for an instant. The Vicomte at

once kissed my hand and said, "_Je vous adore._" It was done so quickly

that even Hippolyte, who had come out with an open umbrella to help us,

did not see--at least I hope he didn't. We went in to Tournelle to have

something to drink, while the horses were being rubbed down, as we had

had such a long drive; and it was at the first mirror Victorine

discovered her red striped nose.

While I was sipping my punch, I heard the Baronne telling Héloise that

her nephew, the Marquis, had consented to marry Victorine; and that the

Baron would go over to Croixmare the next day to make the formal

demand for her hand. Then she whispered something, and they looked at

me, and Héloise laughed, while the Baronne said, "Pauvre garçon. C'est

dommage qu'il ne puisse pas combiner le plaisir avec les affaires." And

when we got back to Croixmare, Héloise came to my room and kissed me,

and thanked me; she had heard, she said, from the Baronne, how I had

broken the Marquis's heart, and so got him to consent to take

Victorine!

I am glad, Mamma, that getting married is differently arranged with us.

I should hate to have some one because somebody else that he wanted

would not have him. However, Victorine is as pleased as can be, and has

been smiling to herself all the evening.

Now I must go to bed, so good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your

affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

Château de Croixmare,

_Saturday, September 3rd_.

[Sidenote: _In Due Form_]

Dearest Mamma,--I am sure what I am going to tell you will surprise you

quite as much as it has done me. Victorine is really engaged! The day

after the _Ralli de Papier_ it rained again, and as we were sitting in

the little salon after breakfast the old Baron was announced. He was

dressed in a frock coat and a tall hat, just as if it was Paris and the

height of the season. They made conversation for about ten minutes, and

then he got up and, putting his heels together, he said he had come to

request a private interview with Mme. la Comtesse Douairière de

Croixmare, and Monsieur le Comte de Croixmare, son fils; upon which

Victorine looked coy, and began scrabbling with her toes on the paquet.

Héloise was not in the room, and Godmamma said to me that it was time

for our walk, as the rain had stopped, and Mdlle. Blanc ("the Tug")

would be waiting. So we bundled out of the room, and Victorine for the

first time became affectionate as we went upstairs.

"Il est venu pour demander ma main, pour son neveu, Monsieur de

Beaupré," she said, putting her arm round my waist; "J'espère que cela

ne vous chagrine pas, chérie?" And when I asked her why in the world it

should grieve _me_ she said that, as every one had noticed how I had

flirted with the Marquis, she supposed his preferring another girl

could not be quite pleasant! I could have screamed with laughter, if I

had not been so angry; I felt dreadfully tempted to tell her of the

Marquis's proposal to me, and why he was marrying her--only that would

have been playing down to her level of meanness. So I said that the

English idea of flirting and the French were different; that the

Marquis seemed to me to be quite an agreeable Frenchman, and no doubt

she would be very happy; and far from it grieving me, I was delighted

to think she would be settled at last, as twenty-two was rather on the

road to fixing St. Catherine's tresses. She dragged her arm away in

such a hurry that she scratched her hand on a pin that Agnès had

stupidly left in my belt. "Voyez! vous avez fait saigner ma main," she

said almost crying with fury. All I said was, "Qui s'y-frotte s'y

pique," and as we had got to the door of my room, I went off in fits of

laughter--she looked so like a cross monkey I could not help it!

[Sidenote: _Girlish Amenities_]

Well, you can think, Mamma, we did not have an agreeable walk. Victorine

talked in her most prudish goody style to "the Remorqueur," and never

addressed me; while poor Mademoiselle Blanc was so nervous trying to speak

to both. As we got to the turn into Vinant, Monsieur Dubois--Victorine's

music-master--came up the street. He is a rather vulgar looking person,

with a black moustache, and lemon yellow gloves, and _horrid_ if you have

to be quite close to him. Just then we stopped to give some sous to a

beggar-woman, so as he passed he said, with a great flourish of the hat:

Was he to come on Saturday as usual for the lesson? Victorine looked down

all the time modestly, and "the Tug" answered: Of course; so he said it

would be a never-to-be-sufficiently-thanked kindness, if Mademoiselle

would take back with her this roll of music he had been on his way to

deliver _chez elle_, as it was much out of his road, and he was pressed

for time at his next lesson. Victorine at once seized it, and he bowed

again and walked on. Mademoiselle Blanc had already a parcel in each hand

she was taking to the embroidery shop.

After that Victorine was _distraite_, and seemed in a great hurry to

get home; she even spoke to me, and while "the Tug" was looking at

wools in the shop she fidgeted so with the music that it came undone. I

offered to carry it, as I had no parcels, but she snatched it up as if

it was gold, and in doing so a bit of paper fell out of it, and as I

picked it up I could not help seeing it began "_Ma cruelle adorée_."

She said, in a great rage, that it was only the words of a song, as she

put it in her pocket; so I don't see why she should have been so

furious with me seeing it, do you, Mamma?--but she had not got over

the pin in my belt, I suppose. Anyway she made us trot home with

seven-leagued boots.

[Sidenote: _The Music-master_]

Godmamma met us in the hall, radiant, and, clasping Victorine to her

breast, said she must announce to her the joyful news that M. le Baron

de Frémond had made the _demande_, on the part of his sister, the

Marquise de Beaupré, for the hand of her peerless Victorine, for her

son and his nephew, the Marquis de Beaupré, and that she--Godmamma--had

consented to relinquish to them this treasure. Jean came out of the

smoking-room just then and they all began kissing--it was awful.

I got upstairs as quickly as I could, and Héloise soon joined me there.

She was enchanted at the idea of really getting rid of Victorine, and

she said Godmamma's rheumatism was growing so bad she would soon have

to spend the summer at German baths, and so they would fortunately at

last have Croixmare to themselves; and she could not thank me enough

for having assisted at this _dénoûment_.

All the evening Victorine played the tunes the music-master gave her,

and once or twice broke into a song of joy; but when I asked her to try

the one beginning "_Ma cruelle adorée,_" she looked green, and said she

was tired, and would go to bed.

[Sidenote: _A Game of Billiards_]

Then Jean and I had a game of billiards--we often do now after dinner.

The _salle de billard_ opens out of the salon, and there is a glass

like a window over the mantelpiece, so that you can see into the two

rooms from each other. It always reminds me of Alice, in "Through the

Looking Glass"--you expect to find a mirror, and you see into another

room. Godmamma generally accompanies us into the billiard-room, and

sits bolt upright in an armchair watching us, but to-night she was too

excited to pay us so much attention, and stayed talking to Héloise

about the engagement. Jean seemed nervous and sad, and knocked about

the balls aimlessly, not trying a bit. It is only French billiards, but

still one has to play properly, so at last I said that evidently the

good news of Victorine's engagement had so distracted him that he

could not pay attention to the game. He seemed quite startled. "Ma foi!

le jeu!" he said vacantly. I put down my cue and asked him quite gently

what was the matter?

Just then the bangle you gave me last Christmas came undone, so Jean

put his cue down too, and offered to fasten it. It is difficult to do

oneself, so I thanked him and handed him my wrist; his hands trembled

so he could not do it. I thought he was ill, and bent over him to see.

Fortunately at that moment we happened to be at the one part of the

table which can't be seen from the other room; because Jean behaved so

queerly--I feel sure Godmamma would have been horrified. He did not

worry about the bangle, but just began kissing my hand; simply _dozens_

of kisses. I pulled and pulled to try and get it away, but he would not

let go, and kept murmuring that at last, at last, he was alone with me!

Now wasn't it too annoying, Mamma? I could not call out or make a fuss,

because there would have been _such_ a scene, and you would never

think a Frenchman could be so strong. For although I wrenched and

dragged I could not get my hand away, and it was making me crosser and

crosser every minute. At last, when he began to kiss my wrist, it

tickled so I was afraid I should laugh, and then he would think I was

not serious; so I seized my cue with the other hand, and just told Jean

in a firm voice that if he did not let go that instant I would break it

over his head! That stopped him!

He pulled himself together and said "Oh! pardon, pardon," and that he

was awfully sorry, and that it was because I was going away soon and he

was mad. And that is what I believe it was, Mamma--a fit of some kind.

Did you ever hear there was anything odd in the Croixmare family?

Anyway it shows foreigners are not to be trusted, for, even if they

haven't pistols ready to shoot you, they are doing something queer like

this.

[Sidenote: _Indigestion!_]

Presently he took up his cue and began playing again, and Héloise came

in from the salon. She noticed he looked different and said at once,

"Qu'avez-vous, mon ami?" "Une mauvaise digestion," replied Jean, and he

went and drank _sirop_ at the side-table. I think I should perhaps tell

Héloise what it really was, and warn her to keep an eye on him, but

then it might worry her, and he may not have another attack for a long

time. No one would suspect him of being cracked, he looks as quiet and

respectable as the pony that mows the lawn. The post is starting, and I

must go to breakfast, so now good-bye, with love from your affectionate

daughter, Elizabeth.

_P.S._--The day after to-morrow there is to be a dinner-party here for

the _fiancés_ to meet. All the Tournelle party, and his mother and a

couple of cousins will be here, besides the Vicomte and "Antoine," and

the Marquise, who are staying at Tournelle.

Château de Croixmare,

_Tuesday, September 6th._

[Sidenote: _Victorine's Indisposition_]

Dearest Mamma,--The dinner for the _fiancés_ came off last night. It

was the first time we have had real evening dresses on since I have

been here. I wore the pink silk, and Héloise was delighted with it, she

says you could not possibly improve upon the style you dress me in--it

is ideal for a young girl.

The day after Jean behaved so queerly, he was not at breakfast; he went

to Paris and I did not see him until the evening, when he was as stolid

and quiet as usual, so it must have been a fit, and perhaps he went up

to Paris to see his doctor.

Victorine had her music lesson, and I don't know what could have upset

her; but "the Tug," who always sits in the room with her, came flying

out, saying Victorine was faint and she must get her a glass of water;

so I ran into the _salle d'étude_ to see if I could help her. There she

was flopping on the music-stool, with Monsieur Dubois kneeling by her,

looking cross and reproachful, and just like the villain in the

pantomimes. I heard her say, "Cela doit être complètement oublié entre

nous à présent que je vais être Marquise." I don't know what it was

about, but if she was telling him she would not be friendly with him

any more, I do call it snobbish, don't you, Mamma? just because she is

going to be a _Marquise_. It isn't as if he was an English Marquis

even, like Lord Valmond, that would be of some importance--but a

trumpery French title, without any land or money, it is ridiculous. Of

course, here no one has his own land really since the Revolution, I

mean like "Tournelle," they only call the new house that; I believe the

real "Tournelle" is down in Touraine somewhere and belongs to some one

else now. This _is_ Château de Croixmare, but then Jean's

great-grandfather bought it back again.

Now I have wandered from what I was telling you--oh! yes, about

Victorine and M. Dubois. He got up from his knees when he saw me, and

began fanning her, while she flopped more than ever, but I don't think

she felt very faint, her face was so red. And when "the Tug" returned

with the water I came away, as they both looked as if they wanted to

murder me. The excitement had made Monsieur Dubois' collar quite give

way, and he looked a dirtier and more pitiable object than usual.

[Sidenote: _The "Dîner des Fiançailles"_]

Such an affair the "_Dîner des fiançailles!_" Victorine wore a pink

dress too, with horrid bunches of daisies on her shoulders and in her

hair; and, as that is dark and greasy, and dragged off her face, and

done in the tightest twist at the top, it does not look a suitable

place for daisies to be sprouting from. I hate things in the hair

anyway, don't you, Mamma? However she was delighted with herself, so it

was all right.

We waited in the big salon, standing behind Godmamma to receive the

company. First arrived the old Baron and the Baronne, and the Marquis

and his mother. The Marquis kissed Victorine's hand as well as

Godmamma's and Héloise's, and you should have seen her bridling! When

he got to me he made the stiffest bow; and just then the Comte and

Comtesse de Tournelle, the Marquise de Vermandoise, and the Vicomte

were announced, and immediately following, "Antoine" and two cousins of

Godmamma's. To finish the party there were a batch of the Marquis's

relations, who had come specially from Paris. We were spared Yolande

and Marie, who usually sit up to dinner with their German _bonne_, and

eat everything that they shouldn't, and then scream in the night.

There was a buzz of conversation, and the Vicomte talked to me, but I

could not help hearing what the Marquis said to Victorine--

"Vous aimez la bicyclette, mademoiselle?"

"Oui, monsieur."

"Moi j'aime mieux l'automobile."

"Mais il y a toujours de la poussière!"

And they are going to be married in a month!

The Vicomte kept bending over me and looking silly, and the Marquis

fidgeted so that he could not go on talking to Victorine--one eye was

always fixed on us. That seemed to please the Vicomte, for he got more

and more _empressé_, and I could not help laughing in return. At dinner

he took in Mme. de Vermandoise, but sat next me, and on my other hand

was one of the cousins, a harmless idiot too timid to speak much, and

with all kinds of horrid baby fluffs growing on his face. If men are to

wear beards (which I should forbid if I were the Queen) they ought to

be shut up till they are really grown.

[Sidenote: _A Contretemps_]

Opposite to us were Victorine and the Marquis, and Godmamma and the

Baron, and Jean and the Marquis's mother. They did look a dull lot, and

the Marquis's mother eats worst of all! We had the greatest fun at our

side, Mme. de Vermandoise was delicious with gaiety, the Comte was on

her other hand, and we four never stopped joking and laughing the whole

of dinner. It was such a big party, so the conversation could not be

quite as general as usual.

The Marquis got gloomier and gloomier as time went on. I could not look

up that I did not find his angry eyes fixed on me. Even Victorine's

aggressive joy at having caught him was damped when she could not get

him to pay attention to what she was saying. At last when he was

straining his ears to try and hear my conversation with the Vicomte,

she got absolutely exasperated with him, and addressed a question to

him in a loud, sharp voice. It made him jump so that he bounced round

in his seat; and as she had lowered her head to put the piece of

_bécassine_--which had been poised on her fork while she spoke--into

her mouth, his jumping round, and her raising her head suddenly, made

her daisies catch on his beard; and you never saw such a funny sight,

Mamma! It was a nasty little wired dewdrop that got fixed in poor

Monsieur de Beaupré's fur, and there they were: she still grasping her

fork and he looking ready to eat her with annoyance. Their two heads

were fastened together, and there they would have remained, only

Hippolyte (who always goes everywhere with the Baronne) came to the

rescue, and untangled them. But it hurt the Marquis very much, as some

of the hairs had to be pulled out, and it did not mend matters

Hippolyte muttering, "Cela doit être que Monsieur le Marquis doit faire

plus attention à l'affaire qu'il a en main, s'il désire garder ses

cheveux intacts."

[Sidenote: _The Vicomte's Proposal_]

The affair made quite a commotion at the table, and Victorine so nearly

cried with rage that the Marquis's mother had to give her smelling

salts. Mme. de Vermandoise was overcome with laughter, and her tongue

was hardly ever out of her gap, while the Marquis sat, white with fury.

When we left the table, arm-in-arm, things cleared up, and, while we

were alone when the men went back to smoke, Victorine was made to "play

something," and she really plays very well. It was so stiflingly hot

that at last some one--the Comtesse, I believe--asked to have the

windows opened on to the terrace. There was a fair-sized moon, and we

all went out there, even Godmamma for a few moments. The men came out

of the smoking-room windows and joined us, and for the first time since

I have been in France we talked to the persons we wanted to, without

either shouting across some one else or making a general conversation.

"Antoine" and Héloise leant over the balustrade; the Comte and the

Marquise stayed by the window, while the Vicomte whispered to me by the

steps; and Victorine and her Marquis stood like two wax figures, not

saying a word, by the orange trees. I don't know whether it was owing

to the moon or not, but the Vicomte did say such a lot of charming

things to me. He said he loved me, and would I marry him; he would

arrange it all, as fortunately he has no parents to consult.

I seem to be getting quite used to proposals now, because it did not

excite me in the least. But I don't think I want to marry any one yet,

Mamma; so I told him you would never let me marry a Frenchman, and he

had better forget all about me. He said as much about love as he could

in the ten minutes we were left talking together, and put it so

nicely--not a bit that violent want-to-eat-one-up-way the Marquis has.

I felt once or twice quite inclined to say yes, if only it had been an

affair of a week; but unfortunately, even in France, you have to stay

on with people longer than that, and that is the part I could not have

managed.

I made him understand at last that I really meant not to have him, and

he was very miserable. But you can't tear your hair or cry, with every

one looking on, and, as it all had to be done in a voice as if one was

talking about the weather, he did not show much. Only he looked very

white when we came into the lights again, but he whispered as he said

good-night that he did not despair; he would always love me, and when I

married some one else his day would come, which I did not think kind of

him, as I don't want to be a widow.

The Marquis had not a chance to say a word to me; he tried often, but I

avoided him, he looked so out of temper. I am sure it would have been

something disagreeable. He and the Vicomte nearly came to blows going

out of the door, just over a silly thing like the Vicomte's sword

knocking against the Marquis's boot. I hope they won't really fight.

When they had all gone, and we were going up to bed, I thought Jean

looked as if his fit was coming on again, so I bolted into my room;

and on the whole I am rather glad to be coming back to England on

Thursday.

To-day we go over to Tournelle, a visit of ceremony for me to say

good-bye, and they are all dear people there, and I shall always hope

to see them again.--Now good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your

affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

_P.S._--I wish his hair wasn't cut _en brosse_. But of course one

couldn't marry a Frenchman anyway.

Château de Croixmare,

_Wednesday, September 7th._

[Sidenote: _Hippolyte's Testimonial_]

Dearest Mamma,--It was really quite sad saying good-bye to all the

people at Tournelle. The Baronne almost wept over me, and said that

they would be dreadfully dull without me. They all kissed me on both

cheeks, and even Hippolyte as he put us into the carriage after I

tipped him, remarked, "Mieux vaut épouser un français et rester

toujours chez nous, vous êtes trop belle demoiselle pour le brouillard

d'Angleterre!"

I wonder after all if the Marquis will ever marry Victorine, as it

seems, when he got back last night, he was in such a temper that he

made a scene with the Baronne and his mother. He said that Victorine

made him look ridiculous, that she was unappetising, without wit, and

ugly enough to have tranquillised St. Anthony at his worst moment of

temptation--whatever that means. (I overheard the Baronne tell all this

to Héloise while the old Baron was making me compliments in his fearful

English.) The Marquis stamped his foot, and finally, bursting into

tears, announced that he would go to Paris, back to Adèle--whoever she

is--and find consolation! So off he started this morning the first

thing. What a man, Mamma! crying like a child!

His mother and the Baronne are very anxious about him, as if he really

decides to "_jeter le manche après la cognée_," who is to pay his

debts! The Baronne also said, that if "Elisabet" (that's me) had only

been married, it would have been all a simple matter; because then

there would be no cause for him to despair, and he would not have

occupied himself about an ordinary subject, like who they married him

to in the meantime. But, as it is, the contrast between us--Victorine

and me--whom he cannot obtain--is too great, and the sooner I am out of

his sight the better! It does sound all Greek, doesn't it to you,

Mamma? I repeat it just as the Baronne said it.

[Sidenote: _Etiquette for the Fiancés_]

We went into the garden presently, and the Marquise and the Comte and I

walked together; she had not got over the affair at dinner, and did

nothing but laugh and joke about it. She said that Victorine at all

events will give the Marquis no anxieties in the future, but she is

sure he will have to "_se griser_" to get through the wedding.

Fortunately Victorine was not with us, as Godmamma was too tired to

accompany her; it would not have been proper for her to come with only

her brother and sister-in-law, as her _fiancé_, being supposed

to be at Tournelle, she might have had private conversation with him

not under Godmamma's eye!

Oh! mustn't it be awful to be French! Héloise says it isn't so bad as

this in the smart set in Paris; they speak to one another there quite a

lot before getting married, and do almost English things, but Godmamma

is of the old school.

Before we left, the Marquis turned up, he looked thoroughly worn out

and as _piano_ as a beaten dog. He was awfully polite to Jean and

Héloise, and hardly looked at me, but as I did not want to leave with

him still feeling cross with me, I got the chance at last to tell him I

hoped he would be happy, and to congratulate him. He bowed deeply and

thanked me, and then under his breath, as he stooped to pick up a

flower I had dropped, he said, "Vous avez brisé mon coeur, et cela

m'est égal ce qui arrive,"--but I don't believe it, Mamma, he has not

got a heart to break, he is only a silly doll and worthy of Victorine.

I saw the Baronne talking to him seriously while we were having "five

o'clock;" and just as we were starting, she came up and said low to

Héloise, who was beside me, "J'espère que tout va bien, Adèle l'a

remplacé, et ne veut plus de lui! Oh! la bonne fille!" So whoever

"Adèle" is, I suppose she has done Victorine a good turn. I asked

Héloise on our way home if "Adèle" was a relation of the Marquis's, and

she went into fits of laughter and said, "Oui, une très proche," but I

can't see anything to laugh at, can you, Mamma?

[Sidenote: _A Country Dinner Party_]

In the evening there was a _ghastly_ dinner party at Croixmare. Three

sets of provincial families. They are really awful these

entertainments, and so different to English ones! Nobody bothers about

even numbers. You feel obliged to ask the X's, the Y's, and the Z's

from duty, and so you do. It doesn't in the least matter if they are

mostly females; you have to ask the family, because if the daughters

are grown up they can't be left at home alone--they would be getting

into mischief. This is the kind of assortment that arrives: Papa X,

Mamma X, and two girl X'es; Papa Y, Mamma Y, and Master and Miss Y;

Papa Z, Mamma Z, Aunt Z, and Mdlle. Z--such a party!

Godmamma just revels in these frumps; they make Héloise furious, and

the airs of Victorine, her coyness and giggling, nearly drove me wild.

I sat next to Monsieur Y, and although he is a Baron of very old family

he ate like a _pig_. The food was extraordinarily good, but the proof

of good service here is to get the whole dinner--of I don't know how

many courses--over under the hour. So one has no sooner swallowed a

mouthful, when one's plate is snatched away, and one begins to devour

something else. But with this awful man gobbling at my side, and those

foolish girls giggling beyond, even the forty minutes seemed ages.

Afterwards in the salon the "_jeunes filles_" were sent to talk at the

other side of the room, supervised by "the Tug," who did not dine, but

was in waiting. If you had heard their conversation, Mamma! It was

worse than the day the two came to breakfast. Just one endless string

of questions to Victorine about the Marquis, with giggles over

possibilities of their own _fiançailles!_ It is so extraordinary that

they can ever turn into witty, fascinating women like Héloise and the

Marquise. Of course, these are just provincial nobodies, whom Héloise

would not dream of knowing in Paris; perhaps the girls there are

better.

[Sidenote: _A Cure for a Fit_]

Victorine told them the Marquis was "Beau comme l'Archange Michel," and

had for her "une brûlante dévotion!" What will she say if after all he

refuses to come to the scratch! Jean is to accompany Agnès and me up to

Paris to-morrow to see us safely off to Dieppe. I hope he won't have

another fit in the train, I shall tell Agnès to take plenty of salts

and brandy in her bag, and a bottle of soda water, because I have

always heard that a sudden shock is best for people in fits, and one

could pop the soda water over him if the worst came to the worst.--Now,

good-night, dear Mamma, your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

_P.S._--An awful wind is blowing. I hope I shan't be drowned crossing

the Channel.--E.

Château de Croixmare,

_Thursday night_.

[Sidenote: _The Emotion of the Marquis_]

Dearest Mamma,--I hope you got the telegram all right to-day saying I

would not leave. The storm became really so fearful they would not hear

of my starting, and as it has turned out I am very glad, for to-night

we dined at Tournelle to celebrate the Baronne's birthday, and we had

such an amusing time. All the usual lot were there, as well as those

two officers who came to the _Foire_ with us, and about three or four

more people from Paris, so we were quite a large party. Everybody gave

the Baronne a present, and _such_ baskets of flowers as she had in the

salon! "Assez pour tourner la tête," as Hippolyte said.

The Baronne was dressed in pale mauve and looked lovely, only such a

funny thing happened at dinner. The Vicomte, who sat next to her, made

her laugh dreadfully, just as she was eating her soup, and she choked,

and suddenly one cheek quite fell in, while the other stuck out as if a

potato was in it. One could not _think_ what had happened; but it

appears that she wears "plumpers," of a kind of red guttapercha, to

keep her face nice and round, and in choking the right cheek's one got

jerked across into the left cheek, and that is how she got the

toothachy look. Mustn't it be a bother, Mamma, to have to do all that?

but the Baronne is such a dear that one did not even laugh.

The Marquis had to sit by Victorine, and I saw him looking at the pink

rosebuds in her hair with a cautious eye; and he sat up as straight as

anything in case she should get caught in him again.

But it is all right, he means to go through with it--the Baronne told

Héloise directly we got there. So I thought, as it was finally settled,

there would be no harm in talking to him a little. He looked at me at

dinner, I smiled, and it was so quaint, Mamma, his whole face seemed to

flush until his forehead was even pink, with the veins showing at the

side. He lifted his champagne glass and kissed the edge of it, and

bowed to me, and no one saw but the Comte, and he went into a chuckle

of laughter, as he whispered to me that if Victorine had seen she would

certainly tear my eyes out on the way home.

[Sidenote: _Elizabeth Sandwiched_]

Afterwards, in the salon, the Vicomte managed to stand behind me while

I was talking to the old Baron, and he said in a low voice: Why had I

come back? He was at peace waiting till his day came, and here I had

upset everything, and he should have to go through endless more

restless nights! I said that I was sorry the storm had prevented my

starting, especially as I was unwelcome. So he threw prudence to the

winds, and said out loud before the Baron that I knew it was not that,

and he looked so devoted and distressed that the dear old Baron patted

him on the back, and turning away said, "Mon brave Gaston, moi aussi

j'étais jeune une fois." And he left us alone by the window, while he

stood a sort of sentry in front.

The Vicomte did whisper a lot of things; he said just for one evening I

might make him happy and pretend I loved him, and let him call me

"_chérie_." So I said "all right;" I did not think it _could_ matter,

as I am coming home to-morrow, Mamma, and shall probably never see him

again, and you said one ought always to be kind-hearted and do little

things for people. When I said "all right," his forehead got pink, and

the veins showed just like the Marquis's had done at dinner, and he

said, "_Chérie--ma chérie, ma bien-aimée_" in such a voice! It made me

feel quite as if I wanted to listen to some more, only, unfortunately

at that moment, Godmamma came up; she brushed the Baron aside, and said

I should certainly catch cold by the window, and must come with her,

while she annihilated the Vicomte with a look.

There I was, taken off to a sofa at the other side of the room, and

stuffed down between Godmamma and the Marquis's mother. You can think I

was cross. However, I paid her out, for I just looked at the Marquis,

who was seated by his Victorine almost silent and like a dummy (they

are allowed to talk together now, as long as they are not alone in the

room). It made him fidget so, he could not attend to what she was

saying. And when finally he got up and came over to us and said, had I

seen the new "Nattier" the Comte had just bought, which was in the

other salon, and would I come and look at it?--I think Godmamma wished

she had left me safe with the Vicomte. She could not say anything, as

half the party had already gone to look at the picture, so I got up at

once and went with him. His mother is years older than the Baronne, and

not a bit gay like her. I saw them--her and Godmamma--nodding their

heads anxiously as we left; no doubt they were deploring the bad

bringing-up of the English.

[Sidenote: _The Fiancés Together_]

The Marquis said it was awful what he was going through; and when the

dancing began presently would I give him the first valse? I said

Certainly, and by that time we were in the other salon, and beside the

Marquise. She smiled her dear little smile, which always seems to mock

at everything, and put her tongue into her gap and whispered: "Quelle

comédie! c'est bien petite espiègle, amusez-vous!" _And so I did!_ I

can't tell you what fun it was, Mamma. I was in wild spirits, and the

Marquis answered back, and we were as gay as larks, until I overheard

the Marquis's mother, who had followed us, say to him, in an acid

voice, that he seemed to have forgotten that it was arranged for him to

give Victorine the engagement ring that evening and say a few

appropriate words to her, and he must take her to see the flowers in

the conservatory, and get it over there. So off he had to go, looking

black and peevish, and supervised by the two mothers--who stood at the

risk of catching their deaths of cold by the door--he and Victorine

went arm-in-arm into the conservatory, and disappeared behind some pots

of palms.

It appears Mme. de Vermandoise and the Comte were in there too, and saw

what happened, and she told Héloise and me afterwards. The _fiancés_

came and stood quite close to them, with only a bank of flowers

between; and they said the palms were pretty and were growing very

tall, and the Marquis coughed, and Victorine began scrabbling with her

toes on the marble floor in that irritating way she has, and they

neither of them spoke. At last the Marquis dashed at it, and said, as

she already knew, their parents had arranged they should marry, and he

hoped he would make her happy. At that moment the piano struck up very

loud in the salon, and prevented Victorine from quite catching what he

said; he got very red and repeated it again, but he mumbled so she

still was not sure, and had to say "_Pardon?_" for the second time.

That upset the Marquis to such a point that he said "Damn," which is

the only English word he knows, and when Victorine looked horribly

surprised, he dived into his waistcoat pocket and fished out the ring.

Then he took her hand, pulled off her glove backwards, and pushed it on

to the first finger he came to, which happened to be the middle one! He

just said he hoped she would wear it for his sake; and when she

exclaimed, "Mais, monsieur! ce n'est pas sur ce doigt que vous devez

mettre la bague!" he hardly waited to apologise or put it right before

he dragged her back to the salon and deposited her with the anxious

mothers!

[Sidenote: _The Baronne's Diplomacy_]

Mme. de Vermandoise said she and the Comte nearly had a fit to keep

themselves from laughing out loud. Wasn't it too comic, Mamma? How I

should hate to be betrothed like that! However, Victorine seems to

think half a loaf is better than no bread, for she kept her glove off

all the rest of the evening, and looked at her ring with conscious

pride. It is a very nice one, a ruby and a pearl heart connected by a

diamond Marquis's coronet. They ought to have added a money-bag

representing the dot, and then the symbol would have been complete.

We had begun to dance when they got back, and, as the Marquis had not

been there to claim me, I was valsing with Jean. The Baronne kept the

Vicomte close to her side all the rest of the evening--she told me, as

she kissed me in saying good-bye, that she had done it for peace sake,

as she knew he and the Marquis would have had a quarrel otherwise, they

were both so madly in love with me. "Petite embrouillante d'heureuses

familles va!" she said--"Mais je t'aime bien quand même!"--She is a

darling, the Baronne! The Marquis stood there glowering, and never

offered to dance with Victorine; she must have been cross!

We had another farewell all round when the valse was over--Godmamma

would not stay for another, and even "Antoine" seemed sorry to say

"_Adieu._" "Dépêchez-vous de vous marier," he said, "et ensuite revenez

auprès de nous. J'ai envie de vous faire la cour, mais vous êtes

beaucoup trop dangereuse pour le moment."

"Ça, c'est vrai!" said the Comte and Jean together, and every one

laughed.

Now that the betrothal ring is really on Victorine's finger, and

Héloise knows she will be got off, she does not mind a bit about the

Marquis looking at me. She kept laughing to herself over it all the way

home; she really detests Victorine. Godmamma and the bride-elect hardly

spoke a word, and I am sure if a perfect hurricane blows to-morrow,

they won't suggest my waiting another day, so I shall be glad to be

off.

Good-night, dear Mamma; you will see me almost as soon as you get this,

as I shall only sleep the night in London at Aunt Mary's.--With love

from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.