We played a little; four hands—­the classics, of course.  All French women of that generation who played at all were brought up on strictly classical music.  She had a pretty, delicate, old-fashioned touch; her playing reminded me of Madame A.’s.

When it was too dark to see any more we sat by the fire and talked till the others came in.  She asked a great deal about my new life in Paris—­feared I would find it stiff and dull after the easy happy family life I had been accustomed to.  I said it was very different, of course, but there was much that was interesting, only I did not know the people well enough yet to appreciate the stories they were always telling about each other, also that I had made several “gaffes” quite innocently.  I told her one which amused her very much, though she could not imagine how I ever could have said it.  It was the first year of my marriage; we were dining in an Orleanist house, almost all the company Royalists and intimate friends of the Orleans Princes, and three or four moderate, very moderate Republicans like us.  It was the 20th of January and the women were all talking about a ball they were going to the next night, 21st of January (anniversary of the death of Louis XVI).  They supposed they must wear mourning—­such a bore.  Still, on account of the Comtesse de Paris and the Orleans family generally, they thought they must do it—­upon which I asked, really very much astonished:  “On account of the Orleans family? but did not the Duc d’Orleans vote the King’s execution?” There was an awful silence and then M. Leon Say, one of the cleverest and most delightful men of his time, remarked, with a twinkle in his eye:  “Ma foi; je crois que Mme. Waddington a raison.”  There was a sort of nervous laugh and the conversation was changed.  W. was much annoyed with me, “a foreigner so recently married, throwing down the gauntlet in that way.”  I assured him I had no purpose of any kind—­I merely said what I thought, which is evidently unwise.

Mme. de Chaponay said she was afraid I would find it very difficult sometimes.  French people—­in society at least—­were so excited against the Republic, anti-religious feeling, etc.  “It must be very painful for you.”  “I don’t think so; you see I am American, Republican and a Protestant; my point of view must be very different from that of a Frenchwoman and a Catholic.”  She was very charming, however; intelligent, cultivated, speaking beautiful French with a pretty carefully trained voice—­English just as well; we spoke the two languages going from one to the other without knowing why.  I was quite sorry when we were summoned to tea.  The room looked so pretty in the twilight, the light from the fire danced all over the pictures and gilt frames of the mirrors, leaving the corners quite in shadow.  The curtains were not drawn and we saw the darkness creeping up over the lawn; quite at the edge of the wood the band of white mist was rising, which we love to see in our part of the country, as it always means a fine day for the morrow.