[Sidenote:  Close Quarters]

“Antoine” sat next to me, and in a pause in the general conversation he said to me (it is the first time he has addressed me directly), “Il fait mauvais temps, mademoiselle.”  I have heard him saying all kinds of drole things to the others, so it shows he can be quite intelligent.  It is just because I am not married I suppose, so I said that is what English people always spoke about—­the weather—­and I wanted to hear something different in France.  He seemed perfectly shocked, and hardly spoke to me after that, but the Vicomte, who was listening, began at once to say flattering things across the table.  They all make compliments upon my French, and are very gay and kind, but I wish they did not eat so badly.  The Comte and the Marquise, who are cousins, and of the very oldest noblesse, are the worst—­one daren’t look sometimes.  The Comtesse is a little better, but then her family is only Empire, and Jean and Heloise are fairly decent.

I could bear most of it, if it wasn’t for the peppermint glasses at the end, which the men have.  The whole party are very French, not a bit like the people we see at Cannes, who have been much with the English.  It is a different thing altogether.  When dinner was over the rain stopped, and after a lot of talk—­as to whether the ground would be too damp or not—­we at last ventured for a walk down to the bridge and back.  Then we returned and commenced a general powdering of the beds, beginning with the de Tournelles’ apartment; next we went to the Marquise’s—­she had such an exquisite nightgown laid out, it was made of pink chiffon.  When we got to my room they made all kinds of sympathies for me having such a small and stuffy place.  The powder was all gone before we could sprinkle the Baronne’s bed.  Agnes was not quite so uppish undressing me as usual.  Perhaps she realised this part of her France was not so good as England.

Next morning when I got down—­we had arranged to have our premier dejeuner all together, not in our rooms, as we were to make such an early start—­“Antoine” and Heloise were already there.  The Vicomte and the Baronne came in soon after; he at once began:  “Comme Mlle. est ravissante le soir! un petit ange a son deshabille!  Une si eblouissante chevelure!”

[Sidenote:  A Conjugal Experiment]

The wretch had been watching me from the opposite gallery, wasn’t it odious of him, Mamma?  No Englishman would have done such a thing.  I was angry, but Heloise said it was no use, that I must get accustomed to “les habitudes de voyage,” and that she did not suppose he had really looked, it was only to tease me. But I believe he had—­anyway from that moment de la Tremors has been always talking to me.  Presently while we were eating our rolls, the garcon, a Parisian (who was also the ostler), came in and said:  Would Madame—­indicating the Baronne—­come up to “Mademoiselle,” who wished to speak to her?  We could not think who he could mean, as I was the only “Mademoiselle” of the party.  The Baronne told him so.  “Mais non!” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of upstairs, “La demoiselle dans la chambre de Monsieur.”