Part 6 (2/2)
After that she said she felt she should like to go and see her _confesseur_ at the Madeleine, and we started there on the chance of finding him. She kept looking at her watch, so I suppose she was afraid he would be gone. We stopped at the bottom of the big steps, and she said if I would not mind waiting a minute she would go in and see. I always thought one only confessed in the morning, but she seemed so anxious about it that perhaps if you have anything particular on your mind you can get it off in the afternoon; it might have been the stories she told about Victorine's liking flowers. I thought she would never come back, she was such a time, quite three-quarters of an hour; and it was horrid sitting there alone, with every creature staring as they pa.s.sed.
Directly after she went in I caught a glimpse of ”Antoine” in a _coupe_, going at a great pace, but I could not make him see me before he had turned down the street that goes to the back of the Madeleine. I wish he had seen me, for, although I never like him very much, he would have been better than n.o.body to talk to. I believe I should have even been glad to see Lord Valmond. At last I got so cross, what with the people staring, and the heat and the smells, that I jumped out and went to look for Heloise in the church. She was nowhere to be seen, and I did not like to peer into every box I came to, so at last I was going back to the cab again, when from the end door that leads out into the other street at the back, the rue Tronchet, she came tearing along completely _essoufflee_. So I suppose there must be some confessing place beyond. She seemed quite cross with me for having come to find her, and said it was not at all proper to walk about a church alone, which does seem odd, doesn't it, Mamma? As one would have thought if there was any place really respectable to stroll in, it would have been a church.
[Sidenote: _Church Etiquette_]
I told her how bored I was, and about ”Antoine” pa.s.sing, and how I had tried to make him see. She seemed more annoyed than ever, and said I _must_ have made some mistake, as ”Antoine” was not in Paris. She was awfully shocked at the idea of my wanting to speak to him in the street anyway, and said I surely must know it was the custom here for the men to bow first. She was altogether so cross and excited and different that I felt sure her _confesseur_ must have given her some disagreeable penance. We went for a drive in the Bois after that, and Heloise recovered, and was nice to me. We met the Marquise de Vermandoise and a young man walking in one of the side _allees_, and when I wanted to wave to them Heloise pinched me, and made me look the other way; and when I asked why, she said it was not very good form to ”see” people in Paris out of the Season--that one never was sure what they were there for--and that I was certainly not to mention it either at Tournelle or Croixmare! Isn't this a queer country, Mamma?
[Sidenote: _Morals and Manners_]
We drove until quite late, and just as we were arriving at the door, who should pa.s.s but the Marquis? He stopped at once and helped us out.
Heloise told him directly that we were only up seeing the dentist, and seemed in a great hurry to get into the _porte cocher_; but he was not to be shaken off, and stopped talking to us for about five minutes. He is quite amusing; he looked at me all the time he was talking to Heloise. I am sure, Mamma, from what the people at Nazeby talked about, he would have asked us to dine and go to a play if he had been an Englishman, and I told Heloise so. She said no Frenchman would dream of such a thing--us two alone--it was unheard of! and she only hoped no one had seen us talking to him in the street as it was! I said I liked the English way best, as in that case we should be going out and enjoying ourselves, instead of eating a s.n.a.t.c.hy meal alone.
It is now nine o'clock, and all the evening we have had to put up with just sitting on the balcony. It has been dull, and I am off to bed, so good-night, dear Mamma. I shan't come up to Paris with French people again in a hurry!--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
CHaTEAU DE CROIXMARE
Chateau de Croixmare,
_Monday, 29th August_.
[Sidenote: _The Sights of the Foire_]
Dearest Mamma,--Oh, we had such fun yesterday! After Ma.s.s the Baronne sent over to ask if Jean, Heloise, and I would go with them to the _Foire_ at _Lavonniere_, a village about ten miles off. It is a very celebrated _Foire_, and in the last century every one went from Versailles, and even now lots of people who spend the summer there attend. You go in the evening after dinner, and there are no horrid cows and things with horns rus.h.i.+ng about, or tipsy people. G.o.dmamma looked awfully severe when she heard of the invitation; but since the row, when they had to cajole me, she has been more civil, so she said I might go if Heloise would really look after me, although if I was Victorine she would not have permitted it for a moment.
[Sidenote: _On a Motor Car_]
We left here about six, and then picked up the party at Tournelle. They all went--the old Baron, and every one, except the Marquis's mother. We dropped the brougham there, and went on with them in a huge motor car (that is another fad of the Baron's). It is lovely motor-carring; you get quite used to the noise and smell, and you fly along so, it takes your breath away; even with your hat tied on with a big veil, you have rather the feeling you have got to screw up your eyebrows to keep it from blowing away. We seemed to be no time doing the ten miles. The Baronne and Heloise hate it, and never go in it except under protest.
The _Foire_ is just one very long street, with booths and merry-go-rounds, and _Montagnes Russes_, and all sorts of amusing things down each side. There are rows of poplar trees behind them, and evidently on ordinary occasions it is just the usual French road, but with all the lights and people it was gay.
We stopped at the village inn, the ”_Toison d'Or_” which is famous for its restaurant and its landlady. In the season the Duc de Cressy's coach comes here from Paris every Thursday. Hippolyte was there already; he had been sent on to secure a table for us. We had no sooner sat down under the awning than the Vicomte and ”Antoine” and two other officers turned up. They had ridden from Versailles, which is near.
Such extraordinary people sat at some of the tables! Families of almost peasants at one, and then at the next perhaps two or three lovely ladies, with very smart dresses and big hats, and lots of pearls, and some young men in evening dress. And then some respectable _bourgeois_, and so on. I could hardly pay attention to what the Marquis, who sat next me, was saying, the sight was so new and entertaining.
The tables had cloths without any starch in them, and the longest bread rolls I have ever seen. One of the beautiful ladies with the pearls used hers to beat the man next to her before they had finished dinner.
We did not have fresh forks and knives for everything, but the famous dish of the place made up for it. It is composed of _poussins_--that is, very baby chickens--raw oysters, and cream and truffles. You get a hot bit of chicken into your mouth and think it is all right, and then your tongue comes against an iced oyster, and the mixture is so exciting you are stimulated all the time; and you drink a very fine old Burgundy with it, which is also a feature of the place. I am sure it ought to poison us, as oysters aren't in for another month, but it is awfully good.
[Sidenote: _Chevaux au Galop_]
One of the strange officers is so amusing; he looks exactly like the young man the Marquise de Vermandoise was walking in the Bois with, but it could not be he, as she seemed so surprised to see him at the _Foire_, and said they had not met for ages. The Comte sat on my other side; he said I would be greatly amused at the booths presently, and was I afraid of _Montagnes Russes_? That is only an ordinary switchback, Mamma, so of course I am not afraid. There were Tziganes playing while we dined, and it was all more amusing than anything I have done here yet. When we had drunk our coffee we started down the _Foire_. There were hundreds of people of every cla.s.s, but not one drunk or rude or horrid.
The first entertainment was the _Chevaux au Galop_, a delightful merry-go-round with the most fiery prancing horses, three abreast, and all jumping at different moments. The Marquis helped me up, and Jean got on the other side; we all rode except the Comtesse and the old Baron. It was _too_ lovely; you are bounced up and down, and you have to hold on so tight, and every one screams, and the band plays; and I wish you could do it, Mamma. I am sure the thorough shaking would frighten your neuralgia away. I could have gone on for an hour, but there was such a lot to see, we could not spare the time for more than one turn. The Marquis whispered when he helped me off that his walk down the Champs Elysees had indeed been fortunate, as he had seen me, and that it was he who had suggested to the Baronne to come to the _Foire_. So of course I felt grateful to him. We walked all together more or less, but Jean kept glued to my side, which was rather a bore, only the Marquis or the Vicomte were always at the other side.
[Sidenote: _The Ennui of the Lions_]
The next place we came to was a huge menagerie of clever animals, with their _Dompteurs_--cages of lions, bears, tigers, &c. There were sets of seats before the cages where anything interesting was going on, and the audience moved up as each new Dompteur came in to the animals. We sat down at first in front of the tigers' cage, the Baronne next to me this time. The creatures went through astonis.h.i.+ng tricks, and looked such lazy great beautiful cats. The _Dompteur_ was a handsome man, just the type they always are, with a wide receding forehead and flas.h.i.+ng eyes. They positively blazed at the brutes if they did not obey him instantly. I wonder why all ”tamers” have this shape of head? I asked the Vicomte, but he did not know. The bears came next, horrid cunning white things, and turning in their toes like that does give them such a frumpish look.
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