I am of a stronger nature than Caroline.  How I have supported her in the past through her little troubles and great griefs!  Is she agitated at the presence of this, to her, new and strange feeling?  But I am assuming her to be desperately in love, when I have no proof of anything of the kind.  He may be merely a casual friend, of whom I shall hear no more.

July 24.—­Then he is a bachelor, as I suspected.  ’If M. de la Feste ever marries he will,’ etc.  So she writes.  They are getting into close quarters, obviously.  Also, ’Something to keep my hair smooth, which M. de la Feste told me he had found useful for the tips of his moustache.’  Very naively related this; and with how much unconsciousness of the intimacy between them that the remark reveals!  But my mother—­what can she be doing?  Does she know of this?  And if so, why does she not allude to it in her letters to my father? . . .  I have been to look at Caroline’s pony, in obedience to her reiterated request that I would not miss a day in seeing that she was well cared for.  Anxious as Caroline was about this pony of hers before starting, she now never mentioned the poor animal once in her letters.  The image of her pet suffers from displacement.

August 3.—­Caroline’s forgetfulness of her pony has naturally enough extended to me, her sister.  It is ten days since she last wrote, and but for a note from my mother I should not know if she were dead or alive.

CHAPTER II.—­NEWS INTERESTING AND SERIOUS

August 5.—­A cloud of letters.  A letter from Caroline, another from mother; also one from each to my father.

The probability to which all the intelligence from my sister has pointed of late turns out to be a fact.  There is an engagement, or almost an engagement, announced between my dear Caroline and M. de la Feste—­to Caroline’s sublime happiness, and my mother’s entire satisfaction; as well as to that of the Marlets.  They and my mother seem to know all about the young man—­which is more than I do, though a little extended information about him, considering that I am Caroline’s elder sister, would not have been amiss.  I half feel with my father, who is much surprised, and, I am sure, not altogether satisfied, that he should not have been consulted at all before matters reached such a definite stage, though he is too amiable to say so openly.  I don’t quite say that a good thing should have been hindered for the sake of our opinion, if it is a good thing; but the announcement comes very suddenly.  It must have been foreseen by my mother for some time that this upshot was probable, and Caroline might have told me more distinctly that M. de la Feste was her lover, instead of alluding so mysteriously to him as only a friend of the Marlets, and lately dropping his name altogether.  My father, without exactly objecting to him as a Frenchman, ’wishes he were of English or some other reasonable nationality for one’s son-in-law,’ but I tell him that the demarcations of races, kingdoms, and creeds, are wearing down every day, that patriotism is a sort of vice, and that the character of the individual is all we need think about in this case.  I wonder if, in the event of their marriage, he will continue to live at Versailles, or if he will come to England.