Jean and the Comtesse de Tournelle watched us from the plage.  The old Baron swims splendidly, and went quite out of sight.  Hippolyte was waiting among the other servants with our peignoirs, and presently he clapped his hands to insure attention, and shouted, “Il ne faut pas que Madame la Baronne reste trop longtemps se mouillant les pieds, elle prendrait froid, mieux vaut sortir de l’eau!”

[Sidenote:  End of the Trip]

I am glad my hair curls naturally, because I laughed so at the face of Hippolyte, gesticulating at the Baronne, that I did not pay attention to a wave, and it threw me over, and I went right under water.  The Vicomte pulled me up, but there was no need of him to have been so long about it, and I told him so.  He apologised, and said it was his fear that I should drown, but we were only up to our chests in water, so I don’t believe it a bit.  After that we came out, and it is just as well one has a peignoir to put on immediately, as the bathing gowns are so tight and thin, when wet they look quite odd.  There were hundreds of other people bathing too, and some of the dresses were so pretty.  One was all black and very tight, with red dragons running over it, and she had a gold bangle on her ankle.  I wish we could have stayed longer, it was so gay.

In the train coming back we played all sorts of games.  Jean and the old Baron went “smoking,” and we eight squashed into the same carriage, so as not to be separated.  We had to go right up to Paris (as the express does not stop at Vinant), and then back again.  One can just see the high roof of Croixmare from the train.  Yesterday those tiresome girls came to dejeuner, and to-day we go to pay another visit of ceremony at the Tournelles’, to thank them for our nice trip.  I shall be glad to see them again after looking at Godmamma for two whole days.

The evenings are awful.  Although it is so warm no one thinks of walking in the garden, or even sitting out on the perron.  When we come out from dinner, though it is broad daylight, every shutter is shut and curtains drawn, and there we sit in the salon, all arranged round in a semi-circle, and make conversation, and sirop comes at nine, and, thank goodness, we get off to bed at ten!  But even if you wanted to talk nicely to the person sitting by you you couldn’t, because every one would at once stop what they were saying and listen.  There is going to be an entertainment at the Tournelles’ in about a week, a kind of fete champetre.  We are to dine in a pavilion in the garden, and then have a cotillon.-Good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

Chateau de Croixmare,

25th August.

[Sidenote:  Croixmare again]