anyway they were sweet and nice), and as the rain had stopped we danced on the green, after we had finished.  Now you know, Mamma, we could never have any fun like this in England.  What Englishman would think of dancing the Lancers on sopping grass, quite gravely, with a white ribbon round his neck like a pet lamb, and his trousers wet through at the knees?  They would simply laugh in the middle, and spoil the whole thing.  The Vicomte danced with me, of course, and while we were advancing to our vis-a-vis in the first figure, he managed to whisper that he adored me, and now that he had ridden all night, and won the white ribbon for me, I ought to believe him.  I did not answer because there was not time just then, and he looked so reproachfully at me for the rest of the Lancers.

[Sidenote:  The Whispered Declaration]

It began to rain again before we finished, and we got into the brake as quickly as we could.  It was a perfect wonder that they were not all exclaiming at their wet feet, and catching cold; but it seems that dancing on the green and these sort of fetes champetres are national sports, and you don’t catch cold at them.  It is only washing, and having the windows open, and the house aired, and things like that, that give cold in France.  The Vicomte came back with us, and, as he was one too many for the brake, we had to sit very close on our seat.  He was between the Baronne and Victorine, who made room for him when he was just going to sit down by me.  She kept giggling all the way home, and the Vicomte looked so squashed and uncomfortable.  I was next, beyond the Baronne, and as both of them could not keep up their umbrellas, Victorine was obliged to put down hers, and the drips from the Baronne’s umbrella got on to the roses in Victorine’s hat.  At last they ran in a red stream right down her nose, and she did look odd, and each time she said anything to the Vicomte, he nearly had a fit to keep from laughing, and when we got back and she found how she was looking she was cross.

The Vicomte took hold of my hand when he helped me out, it wasn’t in saying good-bye, as of course unmarried people only bow and don’t shake hands.  Somehow his spur caught in my dress, and we had to stop a minute to disentangle it, the others had bolted into the house, as they were afraid of the rain, so we were alone for an instant.  The Vicomte at once kissed my hand and said, “Je vous adore.” It was done so quickly that even Hippolyte, who had come out with an open umbrella to help us, did not see—­at least I hope he didn’t.  We went in to Tournelle to have something to drink, while the horses were being rubbed down, as we had had such a long drive; and it was at the first mirror Victorine discovered her red striped nose.