Chapter IV: Part 4

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_.