While I was sipping my punch, I heard the Baronne telling Heloise that her nephew, the Marquis, had consented to marry Victorine; and that the Baron would go over to Croixmare the next day to make the formal demand for her hand.  Then she whispered something, and they looked at me, and Heloise laughed, while the Baronne said, “Pauvre garcon.  C’est dommage qu’il ne puisse pas combiner le plaisir avec les affaires.”  And when we got back to Croixmare, Heloise came to my room and kissed me, and thanked me; she had heard, she said, from the Baronne, how I had broken the Marquis’s heart, and so got him to consent to take Victorine!

I am glad, Mamma, that getting married is differently arranged with us.  I should hate to have some one because somebody else that he wanted would not have him.  However, Victorine is as pleased as can be, and has been smiling to herself all the evening.

Now I must go to bed, so good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

Chateau de Croixmare,

Saturday, September 3rd.

[Sidenote:  In Due Form]

Dearest Mamma,—­I am sure what I am going to tell you will surprise you quite as much as it has done me.  Victorine is really engaged!  The day after the Ralli de Papier it rained again, and as we were sitting in the little salon after breakfast the old Baron was announced.  He was dressed in a frock coat and a tall hat, just as if it was Paris and the height of the season.  They made conversation for about ten minutes, and then he got up and, putting his heels together, he said he had come to request a private interview with Mme. la Comtesse Douairiere de Croixmare, and Monsieur le Comte de Croixmare, son fils; upon which Victorine looked coy, and began scrabbling with her toes on the paquet.  Heloise was not in the room, and Godmamma said to me that it was time for our walk, as the rain had stopped, and Mdlle.  Blanc ("the Tug”) would be waiting.  So we bundled out of the room, and Victorine for the first time became affectionate as we went upstairs.

“Il est venu pour demander ma main, pour son neveu, Monsieur de Beaupre,” she said, putting her arm round my waist; “J’espere que cela ne vous chagrine pas, cherie?” And when I asked her why in the world it should grieve me she said that, as every one had noticed how I had flirted with the Marquis, she supposed his preferring another girl could not be quite pleasant!  I could have screamed with laughter, if I had not been so angry; I felt dreadfully tempted to tell her of the Marquis’s proposal to me, and why he was marrying her—­only that would have been playing down to her level of meanness.  So I said that the English idea of flirting and the French were different; that the Marquis seemed to me to be quite an agreeable Frenchman, and no doubt she would be very happy; and far from it grieving me, I was delighted to think she would be