P.S.—­An awful wind is blowing.  I hope I shan’t be drowned crossing the Channel.—­E.

Chateau de Croixmare,

Thursday night.

[Sidenote:  The Emotion of the Marquis]

Dearest Mamma,—­I hope you got the telegram all right to-day saying I would not leave.  The storm became really so fearful they would not hear of my starting, and as it has turned out I am very glad, for to-night we dined at Tournelle to celebrate the Baronne’s birthday, and we had such an amusing time.  All the usual lot were there, as well as those two officers who came to the Foire with us, and about three or four more people from Paris, so we were quite a large party.  Everybody gave the Baronne a present, and such baskets of flowers as she had in the salon!  “Assez pour tourner la tete,” as Hippolyte said.

The Baronne was dressed in pale mauve and looked lovely, only such a funny thing happened at dinner.  The Vicomte, who sat next to her, made her laugh dreadfully, just as she was eating her soup, and she choked, and suddenly one cheek quite fell in, while the other stuck out as if a potato was in it.  One could not think what had happened; but it appears that she wears “plumpers,” of a kind of red guttapercha, to keep her face nice and round, and in choking the right cheek’s one got jerked across into the left cheek, and that is how she got the toothachy look.  Mustn’t it be a bother, Mamma, to have to do all that? but the Baronne is such a dear that one did not even laugh.

The Marquis had to sit by Victorine, and I saw him looking at the pink rosebuds in her hair with a cautious eye; and he sat up as straight as anything in case she should get caught in him again.

But it is all right, he means to go through with it—­the Baronne told Heloise directly we got there.  So I thought, as it was finally settled, there would be no harm in talking to him a little.  He looked at me at dinner, I smiled, and it was so quaint, Mamma, his whole face seemed to flush until his forehead was even pink, with the veins showing at the side.  He lifted his champagne glass and kissed the edge of it, and bowed to me, and no one saw but the Comte, and he went into a chuckle of laughter, as he whispered to me that if Victorine had seen she would certainly tear my eyes out on the way home.

[Sidenote:  Elizabeth Sandwiched]

Afterwards, in the salon, the Vicomte managed to stand behind me while I was talking to the old Baron, and he said in a low voice:  Why had I come back?  He was at peace waiting till his day came, and here I had upset everything, and he should have to go through endless more restless nights!  I said that I was sorry the storm had prevented my starting, especially as I was unwelcome.  So he threw prudence to the winds, and said out loud before the Baron that I knew it was not that, and he looked so devoted and distressed that the dear old Baron patted him on the back, and turning away said, “Mon brave Gaston, moi aussi j’etais jeune une fois.”  And he left us alone by the window, while he stood a sort of sentry in front.