The city was, in fact, in a very unquiet state; nevertheless, Queen Henrietta returned to her apartments at the Louvre, and my mother came back to us, though when she found me at home, she only remained for one night.  The Queen wanted her, and it was not convenient, in the condition of things, to be carried about in a sedan chair.  Moreover I had a visit from my sister-in-law; I was astonished at her venturing out, but though very thin, she looked radiant, for her husband had come into Paris in the train of the Princes, and had actually passed half an hour with her!  I was less gratified when I found what he had come for.  It was to desire his wife to come to me and inform me that it was the will and pleasure of the Prince of Conde that I should accept the addresses of the Baron de Lamont.

‘Thank you, sister,’ I said, smiling a little, for I knew it was of no use to scold her or argue with her, and I would have spoken of something else, but she held my hand and entreated: 

‘You will, then?’

‘Oh! you have been charged to throw your influence into the scale,’ I said, laughing; and the poor thing had to confess that he had said to her, with an air so noble, so amiable, that here was an opportunity of being of some real use to him if she would persuade Madame de Bellaise to marry M. de Lamont.

‘To him!’ I might well exclaim.

‘Well, you see,’ Cecile explained, ’M. le Prince said to him:  ’The Bellaise is your sister-in-law, is she not?  It is for you to overcome her ridiculous scruples and make her accept Lamont, who is desperately in love with her, and whose fortune needs to be repaired.’’

‘I see,’ I replied; ‘but I cannot carry my complaisance so far.’

‘But,’ faltered Cecile, ‘he is very handsome and very distinguished—­’

‘Come, Cecile, you have done your duty.  That is enough.’

But the poor little thing thought herself bound still to persuade me with the arguments put into her mouth, till I asked her whether she could wish me to forget her brother, or if in my place she would do such a thing as give a father like M. de Lamont to her children.  Then she began to weep, and asked me to forgive her, ending in her simplicity with: 

’The Prince would have been pleased with my husband, and perhaps he would borne me good will for it!’

‘Ah!  Cecile,’ I said, embracing her; ’I would do much for you, but you must not ask me to do this.’

The next question was about a visit of condolence to be paid to Madame Darpent.  We still kept the Ommaneys with us, on the pretext that the presence of a gentleman gave a sense of security in the condition of the city, but chiefly because we feared that they would be half-starved in their lodgings.

Sir Francis told us that Madame Darpent was, ’after your French fashion,’ as he said, receiving visits of condolence in her bed, and, considering how good and obliging the young man had been, he supposed we should pay one.  Annora’s eyes shone, but to my surprise she said nothing, and I was quite ready to consent, since I too felt under such obligations to the younger Darpent that I could let no scruple about condescension stand in my way, and I was glad that my mother could not hear of it until after it was done.