and would hold my hand. I said I could not
think of such a thing, and would he take me back to the pavilion? He
became quite wild then, and said he would kill himself with grief; and
such a lot of things about love; but I was so wanting to join in the
_farandole_ again--we heard them coming nearer--that my attention was
all on that, and I did not listen much.

Anyway, I am sure runaway matches aren't legal in France, from what I
heard Jean saying two nights ago at dinner; and I told him so at last,
and that pulled him up short. And just then the train passed, and I
stretched out my hand to the last man, and was whirled away back to the
pavilion and the people. I _was_ glad to get away from the Marquis,
because he looked desperate, and you can't trust foreigners, they have
pistols and things in their pockets, and he might have shot me. When
we got back to our seats, the _defile_ began and I took the Vicomte's
arm to go and make our curtsey to the Comtesse and the Baronne. It was
just as well the Marquis was away, because they might have quarrelled
as to which one's arm I was to take.

[Sidenote: _Godmamma's Friends_]

Just before the supper tables were brought in, Monsieur de Beaupre
turned up again. His face was green; he came up behind me, and
whispered through his teeth that I had broken his heart, and that he
should marry Victorine! So you see, Mamma, nothing could have turned
out better, and they ought to be very grateful to me.

We had the gayest supper, all at little tables; and it was arranged
that we should go with the de Tournelles, and the Baronne, to a _Ralli
de Papier_ to-day, given by the _75th Cuirassiers_ at the Foret de
Marly.

While we were going to the house to get our wraps, I overheard two
ladies talking of Godmamma. They said she gave herself great airs, and
considering that every one knew that years ago she had been the _amie_
of that good-looking Englishman at the Embassy these high stilts of
virtue were ridiculous. I suppose to be an _amie_ is something wicked
in French, but it doesn't sound very bad, does it, Mamma? And, whatever
it is, I wonder if poor papa knew, as he was at the Embassy, and it
might have been one of his friends, mightn't it? I expect she had not a
moustache then.

I am dreadfully afraid the Vicomte won't be able to be at the _Ralli_
to-day, although he did whisper when he was putting on my cloak that
nothing should keep him away, and that then I would believe the exte