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 defile 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 Beaupre 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 Foret 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 Foret 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.

Chateau de Croixmare,

Thursday Night, September 1st.

[Sidenote:  The “Ralli de Papier"]