ater, but I should think bathing dresses would be
the only suitable garments for such an expedition. They were remarkable
objects when they came home, Mademoiselle de Nadaillac's hat a
curiosity, also her white blouse, where the red of her hat-ribbons and
cravat had run. However, they had enjoyed themselves immensely--at least
the girl. Countess de Nadaillac was not quite so enthusiastic. They got
into dry clothes and played tennis vigorously all the afternoon.

We had a pleasant family evening. Mademoiselle de Nadaillac has a pretty
voice and sang well. Florian and I played some duets. I joined in the
dowager's game of dominoes, which I don't seem to have mastered, as I
lose regularly, and after she left us, escorted by her faithful old
butler (a light shawl over his arm to put on her shoulders when she
passed through the corridors), we had rather an interesting conversation
about ways and manners in different countries, particularly the way
young people are brought up. I said we were a large family and that
mother would never let us read in the drawing-room after dinner. If we
were all absorbed in our books, conversation was impossible. We were all
musical, so the piano and singing helped us through. Madame de Florian,
whose father, Marquis de Nadaillac, is quite of the old school, said
they were not even allowed to work or look at pictures in the _salon_
after dinner! Her father considered it disrespectful if any of his
children did anything but listen when he talked. They might join in the
conversation if they had anything intelligent to say. She told us, too,
of some of the quite old-fashioned chateaux that she stayed in as a
girl, and even a young married woman. There was one fire and one lamp in
the drawing-room. Any one who wanted to be warm, or to work, was obliged
to come into that room. No fires nor lamps allowed anywhere else in the
house; a cup of tea in the afternoon an unheard-of luxury. If you were
ill, a doctor was sent for and he ordered a tisane; if you were merely
tired or cold, you waited until dinner-time.

We have also made a charming expedition to Quineville, a small seaside
place about an hour and a half's drive, always through the same green
country, our Norman posters galloping up all the hills. We passed
through various little villages, each one with a pretty little gray,
square-towered church. There was plenty of passing, as it was market
day. We met a good many peasant women carrying milk i