The Visits of Elizabeth Part 9

Did you ever hear there was anything odd in the Croixmare family?

Anyway it shows foreigners are not to be trusted, for, even if they haven't pistols ready to shoot you, they are doing something queer like this.

[Sidenote: _Indigestion!_]

Presently he took up his cue and began playing again, and Heloise came in from the salon. She noticed he looked different and said at once, "Qu'avez-vous, mon ami?" "Une mauvaise digestion," replied Jean, and he went and drank _sirop_ at the side-table. I think I should perhaps tell Heloise what it really was, and warn her to keep an eye on him, but then it might worry her, and he may not have another attack for a long time. No one would suspect him of being cracked, he looks as quiet and respectable as the pony that mows the lawn. The post is starting, and I must go to breakfast, so now good-bye, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

_P.S._--The day after to-morrow there is to be a dinner-party here for the _fiances_ to meet. All the Tournelle party, and his mother and a couple of cousins will be here, besides the Vicomte and "Antoine," and the Marquise, who are staying at Tournelle.

Chateau de Croixmare,

_Tuesday, September 6th._

[Sidenote: _Victorine's Indisposition_]

Dearest Mamma,--The dinner for the _fiances_ came off last night. It was the first time we have had real evening dresses on since I have been here. I wore the pink silk, and Heloise was delighted with it, she says you could not possibly improve upon the style you dress me in--it is ideal for a young girl.

The day after Jean behaved so queerly, he was not at breakfast; he went to Paris and I did not see him until the evening, when he was as stolid and quiet as usual, so it must have been a fit, and perhaps he went up to Paris to see his doctor.

Victorine had her music lesson, and I don't know what could have upset her; but "the Tug," who always sits in the room with her, came flying out, saying Victorine was faint and she must get her a gla.s.s of water; so I ran into the _salle d'etude_ to see if I could help her. There she was flopping on the music-stool, with Monsieur Dubois kneeling by her, looking cross and reproachful, and just like the villain in the pantomimes. I heard her say, "Cela doit etre completement oublie entre nous a present que je vais etre Marquise." I don't know what it was about, but if she was telling him she would not be friendly with him any more, I do call it sn.o.bbish, don't you, Mamma? just because she is going to be a _Marquise_. It isn't as if he was an English Marquis even, like Lord Valmond, that would be of some importance--but a trumpery French t.i.tle, without any land or money, it is ridiculous. Of course, here no one has his own land really since the Revolution, I mean like "Tournelle," they only call the new house that; I believe the real "Tournelle" is down in Touraine somewhere and belongs to some one else now. This _is_ Chateau de Croixmare, but then Jean's great-grandfather bought it back again.

Now I have wandered from what I was telling you--oh! yes, about Victorine and M. Dubois. He got up from his knees when he saw me, and began fanning her, while she flopped more than ever, but I don't think she felt very faint, her face was so red. And when "the Tug" returned with the water I came away, as they both looked as if they wanted to murder me. The excitement had made Monsieur Dubois' collar quite give way, and he looked a dirtier and more pitiable object than usual.

[Sidenote: _The "Dner des Fiancailles"_]

Such an affair the "_Dner des fiancailles!_" Victorine wore a pink dress too, with horrid bunches of daisies on her shoulders and in her hair; and, as that is dark and greasy, and dragged off her face, and done in the tightest twist at the top, it does not look a suitable place for daisies to be sprouting from. I hate things in the hair anyway, don't you, Mamma? However she was delighted with herself, so it was all right.

We waited in the big salon, standing behind G.o.dmamma to receive the company. First arrived the old Baron and the Baronne, and the Marquis and his mother. The Marquis kissed Victorine's hand as well as G.o.dmamma's and Heloise's, and you should have seen her bridling! When he got to me he made the stiffest bow; and just then the Comte and Comtesse de Tournelle, the Marquise de Vermandoise, and the Vicomte were announced, and immediately following, "Antoine" and two cousins of G.o.dmamma's. To finish the party there were a batch of the Marquis's relations, who had come specially from Paris. We were spared Yolande and Marie, who usually sit up to dinner with their German _bonne_, and eat everything that they shouldn't, and then scream in the night.

There was a buzz of conversation, and the Vicomte talked to me, but I could not help hearing what the Marquis said to Victorine--

"Vous aimez la bicyclette, mademoiselle?"

"Oui, monsieur."

"Moi j'aime mieux l'automobile."

"Mais il y a toujours de la poussiere!"

And they are going to be married in a month!

The Vicomte kept bending over me and looking silly, and the Marquis fidgeted so that he could not go on talking to Victorine--one eye was always fixed on us. That seemed to please the Vicomte, for he got more and more _empresse_, and I could not help laughing in return. At dinner he took in Mme. de Vermandoise, but sat next me, and on my other hand was one of the cousins, a harmless idiot too timid to speak much, and with all kinds of horrid baby fluffs growing on his face. If men are to wear beards (which I should forbid if I were the Queen) they ought to be shut up till they are really grown.

[Sidenote: _A Contretemps_]

Opposite to us were Victorine and the Marquis, and G.o.dmamma and the Baron, and Jean and the Marquis's mother. They did look a dull lot, and the Marquis's mother eats worst of all! We had the greatest fun at our side, Mme. de Vermandoise was delicious with gaiety, the Comte was on her other hand, and we four never stopped joking and laughing the whole of dinner. It was such a big party, so the conversation could not be quite as general as usual.

The Marquis got gloomier and gloomier as time went on. I could not look up that I did not find his angry eyes fixed on me. Even Victorine's aggressive joy at having caught him was damped when she could not get him to pay attention to what she was saying. At last when he was straining his ears to try and hear my conversation with the Vicomte, she got absolutely exasperated with him, and addressed a question to him in a loud, sharp voice. It made him jump so that he bounced round in his seat; and as she had lowered her head to put the piece of _beca.s.sine_--which had been poised on her fork while she spoke--into her mouth, his jumping round, and her raising her head suddenly, made her daisies catch on his beard; and you never saw such a funny sight, Mamma! It was a nasty little wired dewdrop that got fixed in poor Monsieur de Beaupre's fur, and there they were: she still grasping her fork and he looking ready to eat her with annoyance. Their two heads were fastened together, and there they would have remained, only Hippolyte (who always goes everywhere with the Baronne) came to the rescue, and untangled them. But it hurt the Marquis very much, as some of the hairs had to be pulled out, and it did not mend matters Hippolyte muttering, "Cela doit etre que Monsieur le Marquis doit faire plus attention a l'affaire qu'il a en main, s'il desire garder ses cheveux intacts."

[Sidenote: _The Vicomte's Proposal_]

The affair made quite a commotion at the table, and Victorine so nearly cried with rage that the Marquis's mother had to give her smelling salts. Mme. de Vermandoise was overcome with laughter, and her tongue was hardly ever out of her gap, while the Marquis sat, white with fury.

When we left the table, arm-in-arm, things cleared up, and, while we were alone when the men went back to smoke, Victorine was made to "play something," and she really plays very well. It was so stiflingly hot that at last some one--the Comtesse, I believe--asked to have the windows opened on to the terrace. There was a fair-sized moon, and we all went out there, even G.o.dmamma for a few moments. The men came out of the smoking-room windows and joined us, and for the first time since I have been in France we talked to the persons we wanted to, without either shouting across some one else or making a general conversation.

"Antoine" and Heloise leant over the bal.u.s.trade; the Comte and the Marquise stayed by the window, while the Vicomte whispered to me by the steps; and Victorine and her Marquis stood like two wax figures, not saying a word, by the orange trees. I don't know whether it was owing to the moon or not, but the Vicomte did say such a lot of charming things to me. He said he loved me, and would I marry him; he would arrange it all, as fortunately he has no parents to consult.

I seem to be getting quite used to proposals now, because it did not excite me in the least. But I don't think I want to marry any one yet, Mamma; so I told him you would never let me marry a Frenchman, and he had better forget all about me. He said as much about love as he could in the ten minutes we were left talking together, and put it so nicely--not a bit that violent want-to-eat-one-up-way the Marquis has.

I felt once or twice quite inclined to say yes, if only it had been an affair of a week; but unfortunately, even in France, you have to stay on with people longer than that, and that is the part I could not have managed.

I made him understand at last that I really meant not to have him, and he was very miserable. But you can't tear your hair or cry, with every one looking on, and, as it all had to be done in a voice as if one was talking about the weather, he did not show much. Only he looked very white when we came into the lights again, but he whispered as he said good-night that he did not despair; he would always love me, and when I married some one else his day would come, which I did not think kind of him, as I don't want to be a widow.

The Marquis had not a chance to say a word to me; he tried often, but I avoided him, he looked so out of temper. I am sure it would have been something disagreeable. He and the Vicomte nearly came to blows going out of the door, just over a silly thing like the Vicomte's sword knocking against the Marquis's boot. I hope they won't really fight.

When they had all gone, and we were going up to bed, I thought Jean looked as if his fit was coming on again, so I bolted into my room; and on the whole I am rather glad to be coming back to England on Thursday.

To-day we go over to Tournelle, a visit of ceremony for me to say good-bye, and they are all dear people there, and I shall always hope to see them again.--Now good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

_P.S._--I wish his hair wasn't cut _en brosse_. But of course one couldn't marry a Frenchman anyway.

Chateau de Croixmare,

_Wednesday, September 7th._

[Sidenote: _Hippolyte's Testimonial_]

Dearest Mamma,--It was really quite sad saying good-bye to all the people at Tournelle. The Baronne almost wept over me, and said that they would be dreadfully dull without me. They all kissed me on both cheeks, and even Hippolyte as he put us into the carriage after I tipped him, remarked, "Mieux vaut epouser un francais et rester toujours chez nous, vous etes trop belle demoiselle pour le brouillard d'Angleterre!"

I wonder after all if the Marquis will ever marry Victorine, as it seems, when he got back last night, he was in such a temper that he made a scene with the Baronne and his mother. He said that Victorine made him look ridiculous, that she was unappetising, without wit, and ugly enough to have tranquillised St. Anthony at his worst moment of temptation--whatever that means. (I overheard the Baronne tell all this to Heloise while the old Baron was making me compliments in his fearful English.) The Marquis stamped his foot, and finally, bursting into tears, announced that he would go to Paris, back to Adele--whoever she is--and find consolation! So off he started this morning the first thing. What a man, Mamma! crying like a child!

His mother and the Baronne are very anxious about him, as if he really decides to "_jeter le manche apres la cognee_," who is to pay his debts! The Baronne also said, that if "Elisabet" (that's me) had only been married, it would have been all a simple matter; because then there would be no cause for him to despair, and he would not have occupied himself about an ordinary subject, like who they married him to in the meantime. But, as it is, the contrast between us--Victorine and me--whom he cannot obtain--is too great, and the sooner I am out of his sight the better! It does sound all Greek, doesn't it to you, Mamma? I repeat it just as the Baronne said it.

[Sidenote: _Etiquette for the Fiances_]

We went into the garden presently, and the Marquise and the Comte and I walked together; she had not got over the affair at dinner, and did nothing but laugh and joke about it. She said that Victorine at all events will give the Marquis no anxieties in the future, but she is sure he will have to "_se griser_" to get through the wedding.

Fortunately Victorine was not with us, as G.o.dmamma was too tired to accompany her; it would not have been proper for her to come with only her brother and sister-in-law, as her _fiance_, being supposed to be at Tournelle, she might have had private conversation with him not under G.o.dmamma's eye!

Oh! mustn't it be awful to be French! Heloise says it isn't so bad as this in the smart set in Paris; they speak to one another there quite a lot before getting married, and do almost English things, but G.o.dmamma is of the old school.

Before we left, the Marquis turned up, he looked thoroughly worn out and as _piano_ as a beaten dog. He was awfully polite to Jean and Heloise, and hardly looked at me, but as I did not want to leave with him still feeling cross with me, I got the chance at last to tell him I hoped he would be happy, and to congratulate him. He bowed deeply and thanked me, and then under his breath, as he stooped to pick up a flower I had dropped, he said, "Vous avez brise mon coeur, et cela m'est egal ce qui arrive,"--but I don't believe it, Mamma, he has not got a heart to break, he is only a silly doll and worthy of Victorine.

I saw the Baronne talking to him seriously while we were having "five o'clock;" and just as we were starting, she came up and said low to Heloise, who was beside me, "J'espere que tout va bien, Adele l'a remplace, et ne veut plus de lui! Oh! la bonne fille!" So whoever "Adele" is, I suppose she has done Victorine a good turn. I asked Heloise on our way home if "Adele" was a relation of the Marquis's, and she went into fits of laughter and said, "Oui, une tres proche," but I can't see anything to laugh at, can you, Mamma?

[Sidenote: _A Country Dinner Party_]

In the evening there was a _ghastly_ dinner party at Croixmare. Three sets of provincial families. They are really awful these entertainments, and so different to English ones! n.o.body bothers about even numbers. You feel obliged to ask the X's, the Y's, and the Z's from duty, and so you do. It doesn't in the least matter if they are mostly females; you have to ask the family, because if the daughters are grown up they can't be left at home alone--they would be getting into mischief. This is the kind of a.s.sortment that arrives: Papa X, Mamma X, and two girl X'es; Papa Y, Mamma Y, and Master and Miss Y; Papa Z, Mamma Z, Aunt Z, and Mdlle. Z--such a party!

G.o.dmamma just revels in these frumps; they make Heloise furious, and the airs of Victorine, her coyness and giggling, nearly drove me wild.

I sat next to Monsieur Y, and although he is a Baron of very old family he ate like a _pig_. The food was extraordinarily good, but the proof of good service here is to get the whole dinner--of I don't know how many courses--over under the hour. So one has no sooner swallowed a mouthful, when one's plate is s.n.a.t.c.hed away, and one begins to devour something else. But with this awful man gobbling at my side, and those foolish girls giggling beyond, even the forty minutes seemed ages.