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 succes as me, and that all the old ladies would be ready to tear my eyes out.  Heloise 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.