[Sidenote:  Indigestion!]

Presently he took up his cue and began playing again, and Heloise came in from the salon.  She noticed he looked different and said at once, “Qu’avez-vous, mon ami?” “Une mauvaise digestion,” replied Jean, and he went and drank sirop at the side-table.  I think I should perhaps tell Heloise what it really was, and warn her to keep an eye on him, but then it might worry her, and he may not have another attack for a long time.  No one would suspect him of being cracked, he looks as quiet and respectable as the pony that mows the lawn.  The post is starting, and I must go to breakfast, so now good-bye, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

P.S.—­The day after to-morrow there is to be a dinner-party here for the fiances to meet.  All the Tournelle party, and his mother and a couple of cousins will be here, besides the Vicomte and “Antoine,” and the Marquise, who are staying at Tournelle.

Chateau de Croixmare,

Tuesday, September 6th.

[Sidenote:  Victorine’s Indisposition]

Dearest Mamma,—­The dinner for the fiances came off last night.  It was the first time we have had real evening dresses on since I have been here.  I wore the pink silk, and Heloise was delighted with it, she says you could not possibly improve upon the style you dress me in—­it is ideal for a young girl.

The day after Jean behaved so queerly, he was not at breakfast; he went to Paris and I did not see him until the evening, when he was as stolid and quiet as usual, so it must have been a fit, and perhaps he went up to Paris to see his doctor.

Victorine had her music lesson, and I don’t know what could have upset her; but “the Tug,” who always sits in the room with her, came flying out, saying Victorine was faint and she must get her a glass of water; so I ran into the salle d’etude to see if I could help her.  There she was flopping on the music-stool, with Monsieur Dubois kneeling by her, looking cross and reproachful, and just like the villain in the pantomimes.  I heard her say, “Cela doit etre completement oublie entre nous a present que je vais etre Marquise.”  I don’t know what it was about, but if she was telling him she would not be friendly with him any more, I do call it snobbish, don’t you, Mamma? just because she is going to be a Marquise.  It isn’t as if he was an English Marquis even, like Lord Valmond, that would be of some importance—­but a trumpery French title, without any land or money, it is ridiculous.  Of course, here no one has his own land really since the Revolution, I mean like “Tournelle,” they only call the new house that; I believe the real “Tournelle” is down in Touraine somewhere and belongs to some one else now.  This is Chateau de Croixmare, but then Jean’s great-grandfather bought it back again.