The Visits of Elizabeth Part 3

CHaTEAU DE CROIXMARE

Chateau De Croixmare,

_16th August_.

[Sidenote: _A Formidable G.o.dmother_]

Dearest Mamma,--What a crossing we had, perfectly disgusting! The sky was without a cloud, but such a wind that every one was sick, so one could not enjoy oneself. Agnes became rapidly French too directly we landed at Dieppe, and the carriage was full of stuffy people, who would not have a sc.r.a.p of window open; however, Jean was waiting for us at Paris. We s.n.a.t.c.hed some food at the restaurant, and then caught the train to Vinant. Jean is quite good-looking, but with an awfully respectable expression. Any one could tell he was married even without looking at his wedding ring. He was polite, and made conversation all the time in the train, and as the engine kept puffing and shrieking I was obliged to continually say "_Pardon?_" so it made it rather heavy.

I think he has changed a good deal since their wedding--let me see--that must be eight years ago, as I was nine then; I hardly remembered him.

G.o.dmamma was waiting for us in the hall when we arrived. Chateau de Croixmare is a nice place, but I _am_ glad I am not French. It was the hottest night of the year almost, and not a breath of air in the house, every shutter closed and the curtains drawn. Heloise had gone to bed with a _migraine_, G.o.dmamma explained, but Victorine was there. She has grown up plain, and looks much more than five years older than me. They weren't in evening dress, or even tea-gowns like in England--it did seem strange.

Mme. de Croixmare looks a dragon! I can't think how poor papa insisted upon my having such a G.o.dmother. Her face is quite white, and her hair so black and drawn off her forehead, and she has a bristly moustache.

She is also very up right and thin, and walks with an ebony stick, and her voice is like a peac.o.c.k's. She looked me through and through, and I felt all my French getting jumbled, and it came out with such an English accent; and after we had bowed a good deal, and said heaps of Ollendorfish kind of sentences, I was given some "sirop" and water, and conducted to bed by Victorine. She is a big dump with a shiny complexion, and such a very small mouth, and I am sure I shall hate her, she isn't a bit good-natured-looking like Jean. The house is really fine Louis XV., and my bedroom and cabinet de toilette are delicious, so is my bed; but the att.i.tude of Agnes--such a conscious pride in the superiority of France--nearly drove me mad.

There isn't a decent dressing-table mirror, only one in an old silver frame about eight inches square, and that is sitting on the writing-table--or what would be the writing-table, if there happened to be any pens and things, which there aren't. All the hanging places open out of the panels of the wall, there are no wardrobes, only beautiful marble-topped _bureaux_; but I was so tired.

[Sidenote: _A French Family at Home_]

I left Agnes to settle everything and jumped into bed. This morning I woke early, and had the loveliest cup of chocolate, but such a silly bath, and almost cold water. There are no housemaids, and nothing is done with precise regularity like at home, although they are so rich.

Agnes had to fish for everything of that sort herself, and such a lot of talking went on in the pa.s.sage between her and the _valet de chambre_, before I even got this teeny tiny tray to splash in. However, I did get dressed at last, and went for a walk in the garden--not a soul about but a few gardeners. The begonias are magnificent, but there is no look of park beyond the garden, or nice deer and things that we would have for such a house in England. It is more like a sort of big villa.

I saw Jean at last in the distance, going round and round a large pond on his bicycle. He did look odd! in a thick striped jersey, and the tightest knickerbockers; almost as low as a "scorcher." He jumped off and made a most polite bow, and explained he was doing it for exercise. But I do think that an idiotic reason--don't you, Mamma? It would be just as much exercise on a road. However, he a.s.sured me that, like that, he knew exactly how many miles he went on the flat before breakfast, so I suppose it was all right.

I saw he wanted to continue his ride, so I walked on, and presently came to a summer-house, where Victorine and the _dame de compagnie_ were doing their morning reading. There were also the two little girls building castles out of a heap of sand, and with them the most hideous German maid you ever saw. They are queer-looking little monkeys, Yolande is like Jean, but Marie--there are three years between them--is as black as ink--but where was I? Oh, yes!--well, by this time I was so hungry I could have eaten them, German _bonne_ and all! Fortunately G.o.dmamma turned up, and we strolled back to _dejener_. Heloise was in the salon, and she is charming, such a contrast to the rest of the party. She was beautifully dressed and so _chic_. We took to each other at once, she has not picked up that solid married look like Jean, so perhaps it is only the husbands who get it in France.

There was a good deal of ceremony going in to breakfast. Jean gave his mother his arm, and we trotted behind. The dining-room is a perfect room, except there is no carpet, and the food was lovely, only I do hate to see a great hand covered with a white cotton glove, plopping a dish down on the lighted thing in the middle, so that one has to look at the next course all the time one is finishing the last one. The way in which the two little monkeys and the German maid devoured their breakfast quite took one's appet.i.te away. There seemed to be numbers of men-servants, who wore white cotton gloves, and their liveries b.u.t.toned up to the throat, which takes away that nice clean-shirt-look of our servants at home.

[Sidenote: _French Servants_]

This afternoon we are going to pay a visit of ceremony to the Comte and Comtesse de Tournelle; we are going with them on their yacht down the Seine to-morrow. It is Jean and Heloise who have arranged to take me--it is kind of them, and it will be fun; and I am glad it is not considered proper for young French girls to go without their mothers, because we shall get rid of Victorine, and the voyage will be more agreeable. Agnes and the other maids and valets are going by train, and will meet us with the luggage at the different places we stop at each night, as the _Sauterelle_ is too small to carry everything. I must go and get ready now, so good-bye, dear Mamma.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

YACHT "SAUTERELLE"

Yacht _Sauterelle_,

_17th August_.

[Sidenote: _Yacht "Sauterelle"_]

Dearest Mamma,--I am writing as we float down the Seine, it is too enchanting. We are a party of ten. The Comte and Comtesse de Tournelle; her mother, the Baronne de Larnac, and her uncle, the Baron de Fremond, Jean, Heloise, and me; the Marquise de Vermondoise, and two young men, officers in the Cavalry, stationed at Versailles. One is the Vicomte Gaston de la Tremors, and the other's name is so long that I can't get it, so you must know him by "Antoine"--he is some sort of a relation of Heloise's. The Baronne is a delightful person, the remains of extreme good looks and distinction. She was a beauty under the Empire, and her feet are so small, she is just as _soignee_ as if she was young, and so vain and human. She lives with her daughter while they are in the country--it seems the custom here, these huge family parties living together all the summer.

[Sidenote: _A Visit of Ceremony_]

The young people have their _appartement_ in the Champs Elysees in Paris, and the old ones go to the family hotel in the _Faubourg St.

Germain._ We _did_ say a lot of polite things when we went to pay our visit yesterday, and although they know one another so well--as it was a "visit of ceremony" to introduce me--we all had our best clothes on, and sat in the large salon--(there are four Louis XVI. arm chairs, sticking out each side of the fireplaces, in all the salons here).

Heloise and the Comtesse de Tournelle are great friends. The Comte de Tournelle is charming, he is like the people in the last century Memoirs, he ought to have powdered hair, and his manners have a distinction and a wit quite unlike anything in England. One can see he is descended from people who had their heads cut off for being aristocrats. Jean says he does not belong to _le Sporting_, and is fearfully effeminate. He can't even put on his own socks without his valet, and he never rides or bicycles or anything, but just does a little motor-carring, and fights a few duels.

The Comtesse de Tournelle is small and young and rather dull; she reads a great deal. The old boy, the Baron de Fremond (he owns the _Sauterelle_) is a jolly old soul, and chaffs his sister and niece, and every one, all the time, and thinks it so funny to talk fearful English. The two young men haven't looked at me much. They are in uniform! and they put their heels together and bowed deeply when they were introduced, but we haven't spoken yet. The Marquise de Vermondoise is perfectly lovely, so fascinating, with such a queer deep voice, and one tooth at the side of the front missing; and her tongue keeps getting in there when she speaks, which gives her a kind of lisp, and it is awfully attractive. I think de Tournelle would like to kiss her, by the way he looked at her when she thanked him for handing her on board.

[Sidenote: _The Invaluable Hippolyte_]

It is a steam yacht with a wee cabin, and a deck above that, with seats looking out each side, like old omnibuses, and in the stern (if that means the back part) are the sailors and the engines, and the oddest arrangement of cooking apparatus. You should just taste the exquisite breakfasts that Hippolyte (the Baronne de Larnac's _matre d'hotel_) cooked for us this morning after we started. He is the queerest creature, with a face like a baboon, and side whiskers, and the rest a deep blue from shaving. The Baronne says she could not live without him; he is a splendid cook, and a perfect _femme de chambre_, and ready for anything. He is much more familiar than we should ever let a servant be in England. It was rough all the morning, quite waves. The Seine is only half a mile from the Chateau de Croixmare, and runs past the Tournelles' garden, so they have a private landing stage, and we all embarked from there. Jean and the Comte are dressed in beautiful English blue serges, and look neat enough to be under a gla.s.s case. The old Baron does not care what he wears, and this morning while he was working with the sailors had on a black Sunday coat!

The Baronne kept screaming when the boat rocked a little. "Nous ferons naufrage! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" and the Vicomte tried to comfort her, but she did not stop till Hippolyte popped his head out of the cabin and said, "Pas de danger! et il ne faut pas que Mme. la Baronne fa.s.se la Bebete!"

At _dejener_ we had only one plate each, and one knife and fork. It was so windy we could not have it under the awning in the bows, and the cabin is so narrow that the seats are against the wall, and the table in the middle. No one can pa.s.s to wait, so between the courses we washed our plates in the Seine, out of the window. It _was_ gay! They are all so witty, but it is not considered correct to talk just to one's neighbour, a conversation _a deux_. Everything must be general, so it is a continual sharpening of wits, and one has to shout a good deal, as otherwise, with every one talking at once, one would not be heard. I know French pretty well as you know, but they say a lot of strange things I can't understand, and whenever I answer or ask why, they go into fits of laughter and say, "Est elle gentille l'enfant!

hein!"

We are going to stop at the next small village to post the letters, so good-bye, dear Mamma.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

_P.S._--I hope you won't get muddled, Mamma, with all their names, it takes so long writing the whole thing, so please remember Mme. de Larnac is the "Baronne," Monsieur de Fremond is the "Baron," Monsieur de Tournelle is the "Comte," Mme. de Tournelle is the "Comtesse," Mme.

de Vermondoise is the "Marquise," Monsieur de la Tremors is the "Vicomte," and "Antoine" is the other officer. So if I haven't always time to put their names you will know now which they are.

Vernon, Yacht _Sauterelle_,

_Thursday morning_.

[Sidenote: _Vernon_]

Dearest Mamma,--The scenery we came through yesterday is quite beautiful, but I did not pay so much attention to it as I might have done, because Jean and the Comte would talk to me. You would be amused at Vernon, where we stayed the night in _such_ an inn! I believe it is the only one in the place, and as old as the hills. You get at the bedrooms from an open gallery that runs round the courtyard, and that smells of garlic and stables. We got here about six, and started _en ma.s.se_ to inspect the rooms. Hippolyte had engaged them beforehand, and seemed rather apologetic about them, and finally, when there did not appear half enough to go round, he shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears and said, "Que voulez vous!" and that "Ces Messieurs" would have to be "tres bourgeois en voyage," and that there was nothing for it but that Mme. la Comtesse de Tournelle should "partager l'appartement de Monsieur le Comte de Tournelle," and that Monsieur le Comte de Croixmare would have to extend like hospitality to Mme. la Comtesse de Croixmare. This caused shrieks of derision. Heloise said she would prefer to sleep on the dining-room table, and "Antoine" said he thought people ought to be a little more careful of their reputations even _en voyage_. Finally they unearthed a baby's cot in the room that Hippolyte had designed for the Croixmare menage, and de Tournelle said it was the very thing for me, but Jean replied, "Mon cher ami c'est une Bebe beaucoup trop emoustillante," which I thought very rude, just as if I snored, or something dreadful like that. Then, after a further prowl, a fearful little hole was discovered beyond, with no curtains to the windows, or blinds, or shutters, just a sc.r.a.p of net. The face of Agnes when she saw it!

[Sidenote: _A Necessary Precaution_]

Dinner was not until seven, so Jean and I went out for a walk; as Hippolyte advised us to try and find a chemist and buy some flea powder. "Je trouverai ca plus prudent," he said. Jean is getting quite natural with me now, and isn't so awfully polite. The chemist took us for a honeymoon couple (as, of course, if I had been French I could not have gone for a walk with Jean alone). He--the chemist--was so sympathetic, he had only one packet of powder left, he said, as so much was required by the _voyageurs_ and inhabitants that he was out of it (that did not sound a pleasant prospect for our night)--"Mais, madame"

(that's me), "n'est pas a.s.sez gra.s.se pour les attirer," he added by way of consolation.

It was spitting with rain when we got back, and they all made such a fuss for fear I had got wet, and they would not for worlds stir out of doors to see the church or anything, which I heard is very picturesque.

We had such an amusing dinner, the food was wonderful, considering the place, but a _horrible_ cloth and pewter forks and spoons. There were two _officiers_ at another table (only infantry), and they were _so_ interested in our party.

[Sidenote: _Close Quarters_]

"Antoine" sat next to me, and in a pause in the general conversation he said to me (it is the first time he has addressed me directly), "Il fait mauvais temps, mademoiselle." I have heard him saying all kinds of _drole_ things to the others, so it shows he can be quite intelligent.

It is just because I am not married I suppose, so I said that is what English people always spoke about--the weather--and I wanted to hear something different in France. He seemed perfectly shocked, and hardly spoke to me after that, but the Vicomte, who was listening, began at once to say flattering things across the table. They all make compliments upon my French, and are very gay and kind, but I wish they did not eat so badly. The Comte and the Marquise, who are cousins, and of the very oldest n.o.blesse, are the worst--one daren't look sometimes.

The Comtesse is a little better, but then her family is only Empire, and Jean and Heloise are fairly decent.

I could bear most of it, if it wasn't for the peppermint gla.s.ses at the end, which the men have. The whole party are very French, not a bit like the people we see at Cannes, who have been much with the English.

It is a different thing altogether. When dinner was over the rain stopped, and after a lot of talk--as to whether the ground would be too damp or not--we at last ventured for a walk down to the bridge and back. Then we returned and commenced a general powdering of the beds, beginning with the de Tournelles' apartment; next we went to the Marquise's--she had such an exquisite nightgown laid out, it was made of pink chiffon. When we got to my room they made all kinds of sympathies for me having such a small and stuffy place. The powder was all gone before we could sprinkle the Baronne's bed. Agnes was not quite so uppish undressing me as usual. Perhaps she realised this part of her France was not so good as England.

Next morning when I got down--we had arranged to have our _premier dejener_ all together, not in our rooms, as we were to make such an early start--"Antoine" and Heloise were already there. The Vicomte and the Baronne came in soon after; he at once began: "Comme Mlle. est ravissante le soir! un pet.i.t ange a son deshabille! Une si eblouissante chevelure!"