settled at last, as twenty-two was rather on the road to fixing St. Catherine’s tresses.  She dragged her arm away in such a hurry that she scratched her hand on a pin that Agnes had stupidly left in my belt.  “Voyez! vous avez fait saigner ma main,” she said almost crying with fury.  All I said was, “Qui s’y-frotte s’y pique,” and as we had got to the door of my room, I went off in fits of laughter—­she looked so like a cross monkey I could not help it!

[Sidenote:  Girlish Amenities]

Well, you can think, Mamma, we did not have an agreeable walk.  Victorine talked in her most prudish goody style to “the Remorqueur,” and never addressed me; while poor Mademoiselle Blanc was so nervous trying to speak to both.  As we got to the turn into Vinant, Monsieur Dubois—­Victorine’s music-master—­came up the street.  He is a rather vulgar looking person, with a black moustache, and lemon yellow gloves, and horrid if you have to be quite close to him.  Just then we stopped to give some sous to a beggar-woman, so as he passed he said, with a great flourish of the hat:  Was he to come on Saturday as usual for the lesson?  Victorine looked down all the time modestly, and “the Tug” answered:  Of course; so he said it would be a never-to-be-sufficiently-thanked kindness, if Mademoiselle would take back with her this roll of music he had been on his way to deliver chez elle, as it was much out of his road, and he was pressed for time at his next lesson.  Victorine at once seized it, and he bowed again and walked on.  Mademoiselle Blanc had already a parcel in each hand she was taking to the embroidery shop.

After that Victorine was distraite, and seemed in a great hurry to get home; she even spoke to me, and while “the Tug” was looking at wools in the shop she fidgeted so with the music that it came undone.  I offered to carry it, as I had no parcels, but she snatched it up as if it was gold, and in doing so a bit of paper fell out of it, and as I picked it up I could not help seeing it began “Ma cruelle adoree.”  She said, in a great rage, that it was only the words of a song, as she put it in her pocket; so I don’t see why she should have been so furious with me seeing it, do you, Mamma?—­but she had not got over the pin in my belt, I suppose.  Anyway she made us trot home with seven-leagued boots.

[Sidenote:  The Music-master]

Godmamma met us in the hall, radiant, and, clasping Victorine to her breast, said she must announce to her the joyful news that M. le Baron de Fremond had made the demande, on the part of his sister, the Marquise de Beaupre, for the hand of her peerless Victorine, for her son and his nephew, the Marquis de Beaupre, and that she—­Godmamma—­had consented to relinquish to them this treasure.  Jean came out of the smoking-room just then and they all began kissing—­it was awful.

I got upstairs as quickly as I could, and Heloise soon joined me there.  She was enchanted at the idea of really getting rid of Victorine, and she said Godmamma’s rheumatism was growing so bad she would soon have to spend the summer at German baths, and so they would fortunately at last have Croixmare to themselves; and she could not thank me enough for having assisted at this denoument.