ere: 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 Godmamma 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 balustrade; 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 unfo