Victorine_]

The Frascati beds were comfortable, and I could not wake in the
morning, in spite of Agnes fussing about. The Vicomte has awakened
every one each day by rapping at their doors, but this morning I was at
last aroused by Heloise, who had the next room, and we had our coffee
together. She says she does hope soon to get Victorine married, and
that they have a nephew of the Baronne's in view, but he has not seen
her yet. It appears it is easier to get them off if they are quiet
looking and dowdy, but not so aggressive as Victorine. You haven't much
chance if you are very pretty and lively; as she says, the men only
like you to be that when you are married to some one else. Heloise
wishes to have everything smart as the Tournelles have, but Godmamma
and Victorine are always against her. She says life there is for ever
eating _galette de plomp_, which I suppose means a suet pudding
feeling. We all went to High Mass at eleven; it was very pretty, and
such a good-looking priest handed the bag. I should hate to be a
priest; shouldn't you, Mamma? You mayn't even look at any one nice.

We breakfasted at Frascati, but we were a little bit gloomy at our trip
being over. This afternoon they have nearly all gone for a drive in hired
motor cars, but I haven't a hat here that would stay on, so I am writing
to you instead, and we cross over to Trouville at five o'clock in the
ordinary boat, as it is too rough for the _Sauterelle_.--Good-bye, dear
Mamma, your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

[Sidenote: _A Full-blown Bride_]

_P.S._--I forgot to tell you the story of the "_Cote des deux
Amants._" You know the fearfully straight, steep hill we have often
noticed from the train if you go to Paris from Dieppe. Well, Hippolyte
told us the story when we passed it. It is quite close from the river,
and looks as if it had been cut with a knife, it is so steep. It
appears that in the Middle Ages there was a castle on the top, and
there lived a Comte who had a tremendously stout daughter. He said no
one should have her and her fortune unless he was strong enough to
carry her from the bottom to the top of the hill. Hundreds tried--it
was a beauty then to be fat--but every one dropped her half-way, and
the poor thing got "tres fatiguee d'etre plantee comme ca," when a
handsome cavalier came along, and he succeeded. His snorts of
out-of-breathness could be heard for miles, but he got her to the top
and then fell dead at her feet; and