The Visits of Elizabeth Part 4

[Sidenote: _A Conjugal Experiment_]

The wretch had been watching me from the opposite gallery, wasn't it _odious_ of him, Mamma? No Englishman would have done such a thing. I _was_ angry, but Heloise said it was no use, that I must get accustomed to "les habitudes de voyage," and that she did not suppose he had really looked, it was only to tease me. _But I believe he had_--anyway from that moment de la Tremors has been always talking to me. Presently while we were eating our rolls, the garcon, a Parisian (who was also the ostler), came in and said: Would Madame--indicating the Baronne--come up to "Mademoiselle," who wished to speak to her? We could not think who he could mean, as I was the only "Mademoiselle" of the party. The Baronne told him so. "Mais non!" he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of upstairs, "La demoiselle dans la chambre de Monsieur."

"Mais que dites vous mon brave homme!" screamed the Baronne and Heloise together. The man was quite annoyed.

"Je dis ce que je dis et je m'en fiche pas mal! la pet.i.te demoiselle blonde, dans la chambre de Monsieur le Comte de Tournelle."

At that moment the Comtesse came in, so with another jerk of his thumb at her, "Comment! vous ne me croyez pas?" he said, "tiens--la voila!"

and he bounced out of the room.

"Antoine" said it served them perfectly right, that he had warned them their reputations would suffer if husbands and wives camped together.

Even a place like Vernon, he said, was sufficiently enlightened to find the situation impossible.

I don't know what it all meant, but the Comtesse de Tournelle is now called "la demoiselle!"

The two young men leave us for the day, to do their duty at Versailles, but are to meet us again at Rouen in the evening, with leave for a few days. We are just going on board, so I will finish this presently.

_5 p.m._--The scenery is too beautiful after you pa.s.s Vernon, and it was so interesting getting in and out of the locks. The Baronne and I and Jean talked together on the raised deck, while de Tournelle read to the Marquise in the bows. The old Baron is mostly with the sailors, and Heloise slept a good deal. Every now and then Hippolyte came out from his cooking place, and one saw his baboon face appearing on a level with the deck floor, and he would explain all the places we pa.s.sed, and it always ended with: "Il ne faut pas que Mme. La Baronne pionce c'est tres tres interessant."

I can't tell you what a _drole_ creature he is. Heloise woke up presently and talked to me; she said if it was not for the Tournelles she could not stand the Chateau de Croixmare and Victorine. It appears too, that when in Paris, G.o.dmamma always drives in the Bois at the wrong times, and will have her opera box on the nights no one is there, and that irritates Heloise.

I can't think why papa and she were such friends. I don't believe if he had been alive now, and accustomed to really nice people like you and me, he would have been able to put up with her.

I shall post this directly we land, I am writing on the cabin table, and now good-bye.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

CAUDEBEC

Caudebec,

_Sat.u.r.day, 20th August._

[Sidenote: _A Visit to Rouen_]

Dearest Mamma,--To-day has been the loveliest I ever remember, not a cloud in the sky. We landed at Rouen the day before yesterday about six, and the hotel we stopped at was quite decent, and although the windows of my room looked upon the inner courtyard they at least had shutters. I wanted to go and see the marks the flames of Joan of Arc's burning had made on the wall, but every one was so hungry, we had to have dinner so early, there wasn't time. _Canard a la Rouennaise is_ good, it is done here with a wine called _Grenache_. I had two helpings, and just as we were finishing, the Vicomte and "Antoine" came in from the station. They aren't in uniform now, but their hair does stick up so, and somehow their clothes don't look comfortable. I liked them in uniform best. Madame de Vermandoise talked to "Antoine" across the table quite a lot. That is the only way one may speak directly to a person, it seems. After dinner we went in search of some place of amus.e.m.e.nt, but there was no theatre open, so we had to content ourselves with a walk along the quay, and then we came back and drank _sirop_. It _is_ sweet and nice, and you can have it raspberry, or gooseberry, or what you like, and I am sure if the people in England who drink nasty old ports and things could have it they would like it much better. The Baronne calls all the men by their end names like "Tournelle," "Croixmare," "Tremors," &c., and every one is very devoted to her, and I daresay she is even older than you, mamma; isn't it wonderful? Jean now always sits beside me, I suppose he thinks he is my host, but I would rather have the Vicomte de la Tremors, who is very amusing. But to go back to Rouen. It was a treat to sleep fearlessly in a clean bed after Vernon, and I actually had a bath in the morning. I don't know where Agnes retrieved it from.

[Sidenote: _"Coiffer St. Catherine"_]

You can see Joan of Arc's flames quite plain, we went there as soon as we were dressed. "Antoine" would insist it was only the black from a smoky chimney, but I paid no attention to him. The _Horloge_ is nice, and we did a lot of churches, but they always look to me just the same, and any way they all smell alike, and I don't think I shall bother with any more. We had breakfast on the _Sauterelle_, but it was so fine after we left Vernon, and yesterday, that we could have it each day in the bows under the awning, and so had not to wash our forks and plates.

The Chateaux are so picturesque, and such woods! after you leave Rouen.

Heloise did not sleep yesterday. "Antoine" talked so much, no one could really have had a comfortable nap. In the afternoon the Marquise told us our fortunes; she said Heloise would marry twice, which made her look as pleased as Punch, but Jean did not think it at all funny, though every one else laughed She told me I should probably be an old maid ("_Coiffer St. Catherine_"), and so I said in that case I should run pins into the horrid old saint's head: I simply _won't_ be an old maid, Mamma, so they need not make any more predictions. However, it would be worse to be one here than at home, because even up to forty, if you aren't married, you mayn't go to the nice theatres, or talk to people alone, or even speak much more than "Yes" and "No," and you generally get a nasty moustache or something. We saw a whole family of elderly girls at our hotel at Rouen, and they all had moustaches or moles on the cheek.

We got here (Caudebec) yesterday soon after four. Our inn looks right on to the Seine, and is as old nearly as the one at Vernon, but fortunately beautifully clean. Only you have to get at your room through somebody else's. Mine is beyond the Baronne's and Madame de Vermandoise gets at hers through the Comtesse de Tournelle's. Hers is the most ridiculous place, with a red curtain hanging across so that sometimes it can be turned into two; and such a thing happened last night. "Antoine" went in with the Comte de Tournelle to help him to shut the window, as Madame de Tournelle couldn't, when a gust of wind blew the door shut, and whether there was a spring lock or not I don't know, but any way nothing would induce it to open again. So there they were. We had stayed up rather late; the landlord and the servants were in bed. They rattled and shook and pushed, but to no purpose.

[Sidenote: _A Misadventure_]

There was only a board part.i.tion between my room and Madame de Vermandoise's, so I could hear everything, and Tournelle said there was nothing for it but that "Antoine" would have to sleep in the other bed in her room. She screamed a great deal, and they all laughed very much, and all talked at once, so I suppose that was why I could not understand quite everything they were saying. At last the Baronne rushed into my room to discover what the noise was. She looks perfectly _odd_ when going to bed; a good deal seemed to have come off; she is as thin as a lath; and on the dressing table was such a sweet lace nightcap, with lovely baby curls sewed to its edge, and when she put that on she did look sweet. It isn't that she has no hair herself, it's thick and brown; but she explained that having to wear a nightcap because of ear-ache, she found it more becoming with the curls. I suppose it is on account of the waiters coming in with the breakfast that they have to be so particular in France how they look in bed.

But to go on about the door. We sent the Baronne's maid and Agnes to try and find the landlord; but, after exploring untold depths below and above, they only succeeded in unearthing Hippolyte. He came up from his bed looking just like that very clever Missing Link that was at Barnum's, do you remember?--the one that sometimes was an Irishwoman, and could do housework in a cage by itself. I don't know exactly what Hippolyte had on, but it ended up with a petticoat of red and black plaid, and a pair of grey linen trousers over his shoulders; his whiskers and hair were standing straight on end, and his shaved bits were bluer than ever at night. He said a good deal of the French equivalent of, "Here's a pretty kettle of fish," and shrugged so that I was afraid the petticoat would slip off; and finally, when all the pushing and pulling had no effect on the door, he said people must resign themselves to the accidents of travel, and as there were four beds, he did not see that they had too much to complain of.

[Sidenote: _"Not Much to Complain of"_]

At this moment Heloise came out of her room to see what the commotion was. She understood it was her husband locked in the room, and she laughed too very much, and said they must just stay there; but when she heard the voice of "Antoine" she seemed to think the situation grave--I suppose because he is not married--and she also did everything she could to open the door. Of course if they had been Englishmen they would have simply kicked it down, and got out without more ado, but the French aren't strong enough for that.

Heloise became quite disagreeable about it, though as it wasn't Jean I can't think what business it was of hers. She said it was because "Antoine" did not really try, and she was sure he had done it on purpose, upon which Madame de Vermandoise gurgled with mirth. I could hear both sides you see, because of the wooden part.i.tion. "Antoine"

came into the inner room and said he was "Doux comme un pet.i.t agneau,"

but the Marquise said that he was "Un loup dans une peau de mouton,"

and must go away. Finally the whole of the rest of the party in different stages of _deshabille_ got collected outside the door. No landlord was to be found anywhere. Then the old Baron suggested quite a simple plan, which was for Madame de Tournelle to share Madame de Vermandoise's room, and to leave the Comte and "Antoine" in her room.

No one seemed to have thought of this before; and that is what they finally did, and at last we got to sleep. In the morning no landlord could still be found, and we had no coffee, but presently he arrived accompanied by two _gendarmes_ and goodness knows what other rabble armed with sticks, and they wanted to proceed upstairs. We heard every sort of "_Sacres!_" going on between them and Hippolyte, and eventually the landlord almost crawled up apologising, and opened the door with his key.

[Sidenote: _A Cautious Landlord_]

It appears that hearing the noise of the door being tried to be opened and Madame de Vermandoise's screams, he had thought it wiser to decamp for the night, as two years ago there had been a murder there, and he had had "beaucoup d'embetement," he said, on account of it, and was determined not to be mixed up in one again, "En ces affaires la, il est bien a.s.sez tot d'arriver le lendemain," he said.

Everybody was still laughing too much over the situation to be angry with him; and the coffee, which we got at last, was so good it made up for it; but you should have heard the _plaisanteries_ they made over the night's adventure!

Caudebec is an odd place; it used to be inhabited by hundreds of Protestant beaver hat-makers, who fled from there after the Edict of Nantes' affair, and so there are streets of deserted houses still, and so old, one has a stream down the middle. I would not go into the church: the usual smell met me at the door; so the Vicomte and Jean and I went for a walk, and now we are just going to start on the _Sauterelle_ again, and this must be posted. I have managed to write it on my knee, sitting on a stone bench outside the inn door.--Good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

HOTEL FRASCATI, HAVRE

Hotel Frascati, Havre,

_Sunday, 21st August_.

[Sidenote: _Havre to Trouville_]

Dearest Mamma,--I am sorry our nice voyage is nearly finished, for we go over to Trouville this evening, and from there by train back to Vinant. The river is not nearly so pretty after you leave Caudebec, but Tancarville is fine, and looks very imposing sitting up so high. The Vicomte has been talking to me all the time, but Jean stays by. We were dusty and sun-burnt by the time we got to Havre, and Heloise and the Marquise and I started at once for the big baths. They do not quite join the hotel, so we covered a good deal of absence, in the way of dress, by our faithful mackintoshes and trotted across. On the steps we met de Tournelle just coming out from the baths; he laughed when he saw us, and said he had never before realised that garments of so much respectability could have such possibilities! Oh! how nice to have a real bath again!

[Sidenote: _A Gay Dinner_]

Agnes hasn't enjoyed this trip much, I can see. Heaven knows where she has slept! I thought it wiser not to ask. We had such a gay dinner. I am getting accustomed to shouting across the table at every one; it will feel quite queer just talking to one's neighbour when I get back to England. The restaurant at Frascati isn't at all bad, and it was agreeable to have proper food again.

Hippolyte thinks we are awfully greedy; he was heard yesterday grumbling to the Baronne's maid, "Mais ou diable est-ce que ces dames mettent tout ce qu'elles mangent? Elles goblottent toute la journee!"

After dinner we drank our coffee on the terrace and listened to the band. Heloise would hardly speak to "Antoine" all day, and he looked perfectly miserable, and Madame de Vermandoise every now and then laughed to herself--I don't know what at. However we took a walk on the pier presently, and as there was such a crowd we weren't able to walk all together as usual, but had to go two and two. "Antoine" walked with Heloise, and I suppose they made it up. I just caught this: "N'oubliez jamais, bien chere Madame, qu'une eglise a deux portes." Heloise said she would not forget, and he thanked her rapturously; but what it meant I don't know. They have both smiled often since so I expect it is some French idiom for reconciliation.

The crowd on the pier was common, and we returned to Frascati's garden.

It was so fearfully hot, that beyond wondering if the dew was falling, no one suggested we should get cold, as they always do. It really has been a delightful trip, and I have enjoyed it so. They are all charming. They seem to have kinder hearts than some of the people at Nazeby, but what strikes one as quite different is that every one is witty; they are making epigrams or clever _tournures de phrases_ all the time, and don't seem to talk of the teeny weeny things we do in England. They have most exquisite manners, and extraordinarily unpleasant personal habits, like eating, and coughing, and picking their teeth, etc.; but they do have nice under-clothes, and lovely soaps and scents and things.

[Sidenote: _Views for Victorine_]