But now the clowns come tumbling in, to turn over the poor du Plessis. “...  Mlle. du Plessis will die of the petite personne.  Being more than half dead of jealousy already, she is always at my people to find out how I treat her.  Not one of them but has a pin ready.  One says that I love her as much as I do you; another that I have her to sleep with me—­which would assuredly be a notable sign of affection!  They swear that I am taking her to Paris, that I kiss her, am mad about her; that the Abbe is giving her 10,000 livres; that if she had but 20,000 ecus I should marry her to my son.  That is the sort of thing; and they carry it so far that we can’t help laughing at it.  The poor lady is ill with it all.”

To the same letter Charles adds his scene in the farce:  “La Plessis said to Rahuel (he was the concierge) yesterday that she had been gratified at dinner to find that Madame had turned the child out of her seat and put herself in the place of honour.  And Rahuel, in his Breton way:  ’Nay, Miss, there’s no wonder.  ’Tis an honour to your years, naturally.  Besides, the little girl is one of the house, as you might say.  Madame looks on her almost as she might be Madame de Grignan’s little sister.’”

La Plessis, in fact, agonised, and the way was made for the great scene—­so good a scene that I think it must have been bagged for the theatre.  Labiche must surely have lifted it.  It is Charles de Sevigne’s masterpiece.

“The young party here, when she saw how my mother’s pains increased towards night, thought that the best thing she could do for her was to cry—­which she did.  She is that sort, and always the focus of jealousy for la Plessis, who tries to recommend herself to my mother by hating her like the devil.  This is what happened yesterday.  My mother was dozing quietly in bed; the child, the Abbe and I were by the fire.  In came La Plessis.  We warned her to come quietly, and she did, and was half across the room when my mother coughed, and then asked for her handkerchief to get rid of some phlegm.  The child and I jumped up to get it, but La Plessis was too quick for us, rushed to the bed, and instead of putting the thing to my mother’s lips, caught hold of her nose with it, and pinched it so hard that the poor dear cried out with the pain.  She couldn’t help being sniffy with the old fuss who had hurt her so—­nor laughing at her afterwards.  If you had seen this little comedy you would have laughed too.”

I should like to know who wouldn’t have laughed to tears, after it was over.  The scene is priceless.

But all the same, it is not Madame de Sevigne’s genre.  She is mistress of the chuckle, not of the fou rire; and La Plessis is not one of her best characters.  The petite personne, however, is; and I must give a very pretty scene, quite in her own manner, where she is half laughing at the child and half in love with her too.