The Visits of Elizabeth Part 8

It was _then_ the proposal happened, he did not wait a moment; he talked so fast I could hardly understand him. He said he had heard that it was the custom of our country to speak directly to the person one loved, without consulting the parents; so he hoped I would believe he meant me no disrespect, but that he _adored_ me. He had fallen in love at first sight, when he went to review Victorine--that he implored me to fly with him, as his mother would never consent to his marrying an English woman! Think of it, Mamma! me flying with the Marquis! without a wedding cake, or bridesmaids, or pages, or trousseau, or any of the really nice bits of getting married--only the boring part of just going away and staying with one man, without any of the other things to make up for it. I nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of it, only he was so deadly in earnest, and would hold my hand. I said I could not think of such a thing, and would he take me back to the pavilion? He became quite wild then, and said he would kill himself with grief; and such a lot of things about love; but I was so wanting to join in the _farandole_ again--we heard them coming nearer--that my attention was all on that, and I did not listen much.

Anyway, I am sure runaway matches aren't legal in France, from what I heard Jean saying two nights ago at dinner; and I told him so at last, and that pulled him up short. And just then the train pa.s.sed, and I stretched out my hand to the last man, and was whirled away back to the pavilion and the people. I _was_ glad to get away from the Marquis, because he looked desperate, and you can't trust foreigners, they have pistols and things in their pockets, and he might have shot me. When we got back to our seats, the _defile_ began and I took the Vicomte's arm to go and make our curtsey to the Comtesse and the Baronne. It was just as well the Marquis was away, because they might have quarrelled as to which one's arm I was to take.

[Sidenote: _G.o.dmamma's Friends_]

Just before the supper tables were brought in, Monsieur de Beaupre turned up again. His face was green; he came up behind me, and whispered through his teeth that I had broken his heart, and that he should marry Victorine! So you see, Mamma, nothing could have turned out better, and they ought to be very grateful to me.

We had the gayest supper, all at little tables; and it was arranged that we should go with the de Tournelles, and the Baronne, to a _Ralli de Papier_ to-day, given by the _75th Cuira.s.siers_ at the Foret de Marly.

While we were going to the house to get our wraps, I overheard two ladies talking of G.o.dmamma. They said she gave herself great airs, and considering that every one knew that years ago she had been the _amie_ of that good-looking Englishman at the Emba.s.sy these high stilts of virtue were ridiculous. I suppose to be an _amie_ is something wicked in French, but it doesn't sound very bad, does it, Mamma? And, whatever it is, I wonder if poor papa knew, as he was at the Emba.s.sy, and it might have been one of his friends, mightn't it? I expect she had not a moustache then.

I am dreadfully afraid the Vicomte won't be able to be at the _Ralli_ to-day, although he did whisper when he was putting on my cloak that nothing should keep him away, and that then I would believe the extent of his devotion. He won't have gone to bed at all, if he does turn up, as he will only have got back to Versailles just in time for his duty at six, and how he is to be in the Foret de Marly by ten I don't know, but we shall see. It is just time to start, the brake is at the door, so good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

Chateau de Croixmare,

_Thursday Night, September 1st_.

[Sidenote: _The "Ralli de Papier"_]

Dearest Mamma,--I wonder if you have ever been to a _Ralli de Papier_?

It is fun. We got to Marly at last after a long drive. The _rendezvous_ was in the middle of the forest, in such a lovely glade, and although it rained for the last twenty minutes of our drive, the sun came out when we got there, and the lights through the trees on the wet green were so beautiful. There were quant.i.ties of carriages already arrived, every sort--victorias, coaches, pony carts, charabancs, motor cars, and a few of the really odd kinds of shandrydans that one sees coming to country garden parties in England. There were also numbers of officers riding in uniform--_cuira.s.siers, cha.s.seurs, dragons_--and they were to take part in the chase. There was one officer who was to lead the carriages in a procession through the short cuts, so that we might not miss any of the jumps, and he had a horn slung over his shoulder. I do think it such a sensible plan; and if we could have the foxes trained in England to go just where they should, and then always drive to where the jumps are, like that, how much nicer hunting would be--wouldn't it, Mamma?

[Sidenote: _Better than Fox-hunting_]

Well, at last every one seemed to be arrived, and it was gay. I was glad G.o.dmamma had been too tired to come, so Victorine was actually trusted with Jean and Heloise and me. We had picked up the Baronne and the Comte and the Marquise de Vermandoise at Tournelle on our way. The brake was not quite like an English one; it had seats facing, and then an extra one behind for the grooms, and Jean drove with Heloise beside him; but he does look like a trussed pigeon, and if the horses were not as quiet as mice, I am sure the Baronne would never have trusted herself with him.

[Sidenote: _The Vicomte up to Time_]

They all began to chaff about the Vicomte; "Il ne chevauchera jamais si loin, pas meme pour vos beaux yeux," the Marquise said. Victorine seemed annoyed that any one should expect he would do anything for me.

"Evidemment Monsieur de la Tremors ne viendra pas," she said. I saw a beautiful black horse being led about by a groom, apart from the crowd, and I wondered who would ride it. Just before the horn sounded for the carriages to start, from the farthest end of the _allee_ we saw an officer galloping as hard as he could. "Mon Dieu! C'est Gaston!"

screamed the Baronne. "C'est pour vous, Enchanteresse," said the Comte.

"Que c'est ridicule," snapped Victorine, while the Marquise laughed and put her tongue into her gap. "Oh! la belle jeunesse!" she said.

Meanwhile the Vicomte had dismounted, jumped on to the fresh black horse, and was bowing beside us. "Vous voyez je suis venu," he said, and he looked only at me. I don't know why, Mamma, but I felt the blood rushing all over my cheeks; it was nice of him, wasn't it? He had arranged it all yesterday, and by changing horses and galloping the whole way, he had managed just to get to the _rendezvous_ in time. I don't believe any Englishman that I know would do so much for me, and I was touched. We were fortunate in being almost the first carriage behind our leader, the officer with the horn, and he took us across roads, and we halted at last, where we could see the whole hunt advancing to some hurdles which had been erected at a few yards'

distance from each other down the _allee_. Such an excitement! every one encouraging them at the top of their voices, their uniforms glittering in the sun.

The jumps were not very high, and most of the officers got over all right, only one _cuira.s.sier_ fell, and every one shrieked, but he wasn't a bit hurt. We clapped those who jumped especially well, and cried "Bravo!" It _was_ fun. Then, when they had all pa.s.sed, we were conducted through some more short cuts to another set of hurdles covered with green boughs, and these were a little higher. It did sound lively, with horns blowing and people shouting all the time. The Vicomte was among the last, as he pa.s.sed us following the paper, but he waved gaily. We had to drive very quickly to be in time for the next "_obstacles_" and so it went on. When we watched the last ones, the Vicomte was among the very front four.

[Sidenote: _Rewards of Gallantry_]

Then the exciting part began, as they had to race for the ribbons, white for the winner and blue for the second; but it was quite a long way, so we had time to get to the winning-post, the flat place near where the Chateau stood formerly. There were long tables laid out with _goter_, and the bands of the regiments playing nice tunes. Victorine began to be disagreeable directly we saw them coming, the Vicomte well to the front. "Comme c'est cruel de Monsieur de la Tremors, de presser son cheval a ce point," she said, while even the Comte became excited, and shouted, "Bravo, Gaston!" I _was_ pleased when he came in first, and really he rides quite nicely, Mamma.

Then every one got out of the carriages and there was a ceremony. The wife of the Colonel of the 75th cha.s.seurs (young and nice looking) placed a white ribbon with gold fringe ends round the neck of the Vicomte, while he knelt and kissed her hand on the damp gra.s.s, and when he got up there was quite a wet stain on his knees. The second man--a great lumbering _cuira.s.sier_--got a blue ribbon, and as he was heavier the stain showed worse on his red trousers. After that, we all began to eat cakes and drink drinks (I don't know what they were made of, that is why I say "drinks," anyway they were sweet and nice), and as the rain had stopped we danced on the green, after we had finished. Now you know, Mamma, we could never have any fun like this in England. What Englishman would think of dancing the Lancers on sopping gra.s.s, quite gravely, with a white ribbon round his neck like a pet lamb, and his trousers wet through at the knees? They would simply laugh in the middle, and spoil the whole thing. The Vicomte danced with me, of course, and while we were advancing to our _vis-a-vis_ in the first figure, he managed to whisper that he adored me, and now that he had ridden all night, and won the white ribbon for me, I ought to believe him. I did not answer because there was not time just then, and he looked so reproachfully at me for the rest of the Lancers.

[Sidenote: _The Whispered Declaration_]

It began to rain again before we finished, and we got into the brake as quickly as we could. It was a perfect wonder that they were not all exclaiming at their wet feet, and catching cold; but it seems that dancing on the green and these sort of _fetes champetres_ are national sports, and you don't catch cold at them. It is only washing, and having the windows open, and the house aired, and things like that, that give cold in France. The Vicomte came back with us, and, as he was one too many for the brake, we had to sit very close on our seat. He was between the Baronne and Victorine, who made room for him when he was just going to sit down by me. She kept giggling all the way home, and the Vicomte looked so squashed and uncomfortable. I was next, beyond the Baronne, and as both of them could not keep up their umbrellas, Victorine was obliged to put down hers, and the drips from the Baronne's umbrella got on to the roses in Victorine's hat. At last they ran in a red stream right down her nose, and she did look odd, and each time she said anything to the Vicomte, he nearly had a fit to keep from laughing, and when we got back and she found how she was looking she _was_ cross.

The Vicomte took hold of my hand when he helped me out, it wasn't in saying good-bye, as of course unmarried people only bow and don't shake hands. Somehow his spur caught in my dress, and we had to stop a minute to disentangle it, the others had bolted into the house, as they were afraid of the rain, so we were alone for an instant. The Vicomte at once kissed my hand and said, "_Je vous adore._" It was done so quickly that even Hippolyte, who had come out with an open umbrella to help us, did not see--at least I hope he didn't. We went in to Tournelle to have something to drink, while the horses were being rubbed down, as we had had such a long drive; and it was at the first mirror Victorine discovered her red striped nose.

While I was sipping my punch, I heard the Baronne telling Heloise that her nephew, the Marquis, had consented to marry Victorine; and that the Baron would go over to Croixmare the next day to make the formal demand for her hand. Then she whispered something, and they looked at me, and Heloise laughed, while the Baronne said, "Pauvre garcon. C'est dommage qu'il ne puisse pas combiner le plaisir avec les affaires." And when we got back to Croixmare, Heloise came to my room and kissed me, and thanked me; she had heard, she said, from the Baronne, how I had broken the Marquis's heart, and so got him to consent to take Victorine!

I am glad, Mamma, that getting married is differently arranged with us.

I should hate to have some one because somebody else that he wanted would not have him. However, Victorine is as pleased as can be, and has been smiling to herself all the evening.

Now I must go to bed, so good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

Chateau de Croixmare,

_Sat.u.r.day, September 3rd_.

[Sidenote: _In Due Form_]

Dearest Mamma,--I am sure what I am going to tell you will surprise you quite as much as it has done me. Victorine is really engaged! The day after the _Ralli de Papier_ it rained again, and as we were sitting in the little salon after breakfast the old Baron was announced. He was dressed in a frock coat and a tall hat, just as if it was Paris and the height of the season. They made conversation for about ten minutes, and then he got up and, putting his heels together, he said he had come to request a private interview with Mme. la Comtesse Douairiere de Croixmare, and Monsieur le Comte de Croixmare, son fils; upon which Victorine looked coy, and began scrabbling with her toes on the paquet.

Heloise was not in the room, and G.o.dmamma said to me that it was time for our walk, as the rain had stopped, and Mdlle. Blanc ("the Tug") would be waiting. So we bundled out of the room, and Victorine for the first time became affectionate as we went upstairs.

"Il est venu pour demander ma main, pour son neveu, Monsieur de Beaupre," she said, putting her arm round my waist; "J'espere que cela ne vous chagrine pas, cherie?" And when I asked her why in the world it should grieve _me_ she said that, as every one had noticed how I had flirted with the Marquis, she supposed his preferring another girl could not be quite pleasant! I could have screamed with laughter, if I had not been so angry; I felt dreadfully tempted to tell her of the Marquis's proposal to me, and why he was marrying her--only that would have been playing down to her level of meanness. So I said that the English idea of flirting and the French were different; that the Marquis seemed to me to be quite an agreeable Frenchman, and no doubt she would be very happy; and far from it grieving me, I was delighted to think she would be settled at last, as twenty-two was rather on the road to fixing St. Catherine's tresses. She dragged her arm away in such a hurry that she scratched her hand on a pin that Agnes had stupidly left in my belt. "Voyez! vous avez fait saigner ma main," she said almost crying with fury. All I said was, "Qui s'y-frotte s'y pique," and as we had got to the door of my room, I went off in fits of laughter--she looked so like a cross monkey I could not help it!

[Sidenote: _Girlish Amenities_]

Well, you can think, Mamma, we did not have an agreeable walk. Victorine talked in her most prudish goody style to "the Remorqueur," and never addressed me; while poor Mademoiselle Blanc was so nervous trying to speak to both. As we got to the turn into Vinant, Monsieur Dubois--Victorine's music-master--came up the street. He is a rather vulgar looking person, with a black moustache, and lemon yellow gloves, and _horrid_ if you have to be quite close to him. Just then we stopped to give some sous to a beggar-woman, so as he pa.s.sed he said, with a great flourish of the hat: Was he to come on Sat.u.r.day as usual for the lesson? Victorine looked down all the time modestly, and "the Tug" answered: Of course; so he said it would be a never-to-be-sufficiently-thanked kindness, if Mademoiselle would take back with her this roll of music he had been on his way to deliver _chez elle_, as it was much out of his road, and he was pressed for time at his next lesson. Victorine at once seized it, and he bowed again and walked on. Mademoiselle Blanc had already a parcel in each hand she was taking to the embroidery shop.

After that Victorine was _distraite_, and seemed in a great hurry to get home; she even spoke to me, and while "the Tug" was looking at wools in the shop she fidgeted so with the music that it came undone. I offered to carry it, as I had no parcels, but she s.n.a.t.c.hed it up as if it was gold, and in doing so a bit of paper fell out of it, and as I picked it up I could not help seeing it began "_Ma cruelle adoree_."

She said, in a great rage, that it was only the words of a song, as she put it in her pocket; so I don't see why she should have been so furious with me seeing it, do you, Mamma?--but she had not got over the pin in my belt, I suppose. Anyway she made us trot home with seven-leagued boots.

[Sidenote: _The Music-master_]

G.o.dmamma met us in the hall, radiant, and, clasping Victorine to her breast, said she must announce to her the joyful news that M. le Baron de Fremond had made the _demande_, on the part of his sister, the Marquise de Beaupre, for the hand of her peerless Victorine, for her son and his nephew, the Marquis de Beaupre, and that she--G.o.dmamma--had consented to relinquish to them this treasure. Jean came out of the smoking-room just then and they all began kissing--it was awful.

I got upstairs as quickly as I could, and Heloise soon joined me there.

She was enchanted at the idea of really getting rid of Victorine, and she said G.o.dmamma's rheumatism was growing so bad she would soon have to spend the summer at German baths, and so they would fortunately at last have Croixmare to themselves; and she could not thank me enough for having a.s.sisted at this _denoment_.

All the evening Victorine played the tunes the music-master gave her, and once or twice broke into a song of joy; but when I asked her to try the one beginning "_Ma cruelle adoree,_" she looked green, and said she was tired, and would go to bed.

[Sidenote: _A Game of Billiards_]

Then Jean and I had a game of billiards--we often do now after dinner.

The _salle de billard_ opens out of the salon, and there is a gla.s.s like a window over the mantelpiece, so that you can see into the two rooms from each other. It always reminds me of Alice, in "Through the Looking Gla.s.s"--you expect to find a mirror, and you see into another room. G.o.dmamma generally accompanies us into the billiard-room, and sits bolt upright in an armchair watching us, but to-night she was too excited to pay us so much attention, and stayed talking to Heloise about the engagement. Jean seemed nervous and sad, and knocked about the b.a.l.l.s aimlessly, not trying a bit. It is only French billiards, but still one has to play properly, so at last I said that evidently the good news of Victorine's engagement had so distracted him that he could not pay attention to the game. He seemed quite startled. "Ma foi!

le jeu!" he said vacantly. I put down my cue and asked him quite gently what was the matter?

Just then the bangle you gave me last Christmas came undone, so Jean put his cue down too, and offered to fasten it. It is difficult to do oneself, so I thanked him and handed him my wrist; his hands trembled so he could not do it. I thought he was ill, and bent over him to see.

Fortunately at that moment we happened to be at the one part of the table which can't be seen from the other room; because Jean behaved so queerly--I feel sure G.o.dmamma would have been horrified. He did not worry about the bangle, but just began kissing my hand; simply _dozens_ of kisses. I pulled and pulled to try and get it away, but he would not let go, and kept murmuring that at last, at last, he was alone with me!

Now wasn't it too annoying, Mamma? I could not call out or make a fuss, because there would have been _such_ a scene, and you would never think a Frenchman could be so strong. For although I wrenched and dragged I could not get my hand away, and it was making me crosser and crosser every minute. At last, when he began to kiss my wrist, it tickled so I was afraid I should laugh, and then he would think I was not serious; so I seized my cue with the other hand, and just told Jean in a firm voice that if he did not let go that instant I would break it over his head! That stopped him!

He pulled himself together and said "Oh! pardon, pardon," and that he was awfully sorry, and that it was because I was going away soon and he was mad. And that is what I believe it was, Mamma--a fit of some kind.