I seem to be getting quite used to proposals now, because it did not excite me in the least.  But I don’t think I want to marry any one yet, Mamma; so I told him you would never let me marry a Frenchman, and he had better forget all about me.  He said as much about love as he could in the ten minutes we were left talking together, and put it so nicely—­not a bit that violent want-to-eat-one-up-way the Marquis has.  I felt once or twice quite inclined to say yes, if only it had been an affair of a week; but unfortunately, even in France, you have to stay on with people longer than that, and that is the part I could not have managed.

I made him understand at last that I really meant not to have him, and he was very miserable.  But you can’t tear your hair or cry, with every one looking on, and, as it all had to be done in a voice as if one was talking about the weather, he did not show much.  Only he looked very white when we came into the lights again, but he whispered as he said good-night that he did not despair; he would always love me, and when I married some one else his day would come, which I did not think kind of him, as I don’t want to be a widow.

The Marquis had not a chance to say a word to me; he tried often, but I avoided him, he looked so out of temper.  I am sure it would have been something disagreeable.  He and the Vicomte nearly came to blows going out of the door, just over a silly thing like the Vicomte’s sword knocking against the Marquis’s boot.  I hope they won’t really fight.  When they had all gone, and we were going up to bed, I thought Jean looked as if his fit was coming on again, so I bolted into my room; and on the whole I am rather glad to be coming back to England on Thursday.

To-day we go over to Tournelle, a visit of ceremony for me to say good-bye, and they are all dear people there, and I shall always hope to see them again.—­Now good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

P.S.—­I wish his hair wasn’t cut en brosse.  But of course one couldn’t marry a Frenchman anyway.

Chateau de Croixmare,

Wednesday, September 7th.

[Sidenote:  Hippolyte’s Testimonial]

Dearest Mamma,—­It was really quite sad saying good-bye to all the people at Tournelle.  The Baronne almost wept over me, and said that they would be dreadfully dull without me.  They all kissed me on both cheeks, and even Hippolyte as he put us into the carriage after I tipped him, remarked, “Mieux vaut epouser un francais et rester toujours chez nous, vous etes trop belle demoiselle pour le brouillard d’Angleterre!”