Visits of Elizabeth — Château de Crioxmare, part 3

[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.

RETBY

Retby, _September 20th_.