Part 7 (1/2)
The attraction of the show was to see the great _Dompteur_, Pezon. He had been almost eaten by his lions a few months ago, and was to make his reappearance accompanied by a beautiful songstress who would charm the beasts to sleep. Pezon was just like the other _Dompteurs_, only older and fatter, and the beautiful lady was such a pet! _Enormously_ stout, in pink satin, with quite bare neck and arms; the Vicomte said that the lions had to be surfeited with food beforehand, to keep them from taking their dessert off this tempting morsel. She began to sing through her nose about ”_l'amour_,” &c., and those lions did look so bored; the eldest one simply groaned with _ennui_. His face said as plainly as if he could speak, ”At it again to-night!” and ”Oh! que cela m'embete.” When the song was finished, the _Belle Chanteuse_ stretched herself on two chairs, making herself into a sort of bridge for the animals to jump over. From our position we could only see mountains of pink satin _embonpoint_, and the soles of her feet. The lions had the greatest difficulty in jumping not to kick her. What a life, Mamma!
Then Pezon put his head right into the old lion's mouth, and so ended the performance.
[Sidenote: _Inspecting the Machinery_]
When we got outside, a man was ringing a bell opposite, to invite every one in to see a woman with only a head; she could speak, he said, but had no body. The Baronne insisted upon going in. It was a tiny cell of a place and crammed full. Presently a head appeared on a pedestal and spoke in a subdued voice. All the others said it was a fraud, but I thought it wonderful. ”Antoine” wanted to go beyond the barrier and touch it, which was mean of him, I think. Presently a villainous-looking old hag, who was exhibiting the creature, came over, and whispered in ”Antoine's” ear. I only caught ”_cinq francs_,” but his face looked interested at once, and he and Jean disappeared behind the curtain and the head disappeared too, so we went outside, and bought ”farings” at the next booth. There they joined us. ”Alors, mes amis?” demanded every one. ”Pas la peine, tres mal faite,” said ”Antoine”; so I suppose it was the machinery they had been examining. The next thing we came to was a sort of swing with flying boats, but no one was brave enough to try it except the Marquise and me, though all the men wanted to come with us. You sit opposite one another, and they are much higher than the ones in England. Jean would come with me, though I wanted the Vicomte--so I was glad it made him look quite green.
It chanced that ”Antoine” was beside me as we walked to the pistol booth, so I asked him if he had been in Paris on Friday, and he looked so hard at me, you would have thought I was asking a State secret; but he said that alas! no, he had been detained at Versailles. So it could not have been him after all; there must be a lot of French people exactly alike, I never keep making these mistakes in England.
Have you ever fired off a pistol, Mamma? it is simply horrid. The pistol booth was next after the ”farings” shop, and the prizes were china monsters and lanterns, &c. The Comtesse is a splendid shot, and hit the flying ball almost each time; she is such a quiet little thing, one would not expect it of her. The Baronne made a lot of fuss, and said she knew it would kill her, until Hippolyte, who was behind the party with her cloak, said: ”Madame la Baronne doit essayer c'est necessaire que toutes les belles jeunes dames sachent comment se defendre.” And she fired off the pistol at last with her eyes shut, and it was a mercy it did not kill the attendant, the ball lodged in the wall just beside him, so we thought we had better leave after that!
[Sidenote: _The Montagnes Russes_]
Next came the _Montagnes Russes_. How I love a switchback, Mamma! If I were the Queen I would have a private one for myself, and my particular friends, round Windsor Castle; I could go on all day. The Marquis and the Vicomte kept so close to me that Jean could not take the seat beside me, as I saw he intended to, and then the other two made quite a shuffle, but the Vicomte won. The person who sits next you is obliged to hold your arm to prevent your tumbling out. I looked round to see, and every one was having her arm held, but I don't believe the Vicomte need have gripped mine quite so tight as he did. We had three turns; next time the Marquis was beside me, and he was more violent than the Vicomte. So when it came to the last, and Jean scrambled in, and began to hold tighter than either of the others, I just said my arm would be black and blue, and I would rather chance the danger of falling out, in a seat by myself, than put up with it. That made him sit up quite straight. I can't see why people want to pinch one; can you, Mamma? I call it vulgar, and I am sure no Englishman would do it. It seems that Frenchmen are awfully respectful, and full of ceremony and politeness, and then every now and then--directly they get the opportunity--they do these horrid little tricks.
The next entertainment was really very curious. It was a marble woman down to her waist, and as you looked, the marble turned into flesh, her eyes opened, and she spoke; then her colour faded, and she turned into marble again, and was handed round the audience; wasn't it wonderful, Mamma? I can't think how it was done, and as ”Antoine” and Jean did not go behind the curtain to examine the machinery, I suppose we shall never know.
[Sidenote: _The Fun of the Fair_]
After that there were endless shows--performing dogs, fortune-telling, circuses, etc.--but the nicest of all was another merry-go-round, with seats which went up and down like a boat in a very rough sea. Hardly one of them would venture, but I made the Vicomte come with me for two turns; he looked so pale at the end of it, and when I wanted to go a third time, he said we must be getting on, and no one else offered to come. Wasn't it stupid of them, as it was by far the most exciting part of the _Foire_? It was half-past twelve before we got back to the ”_Toison d'Or_,” and there had supper, with ”_Punch a l'Americaine_.”
It _is_ good, and you do feel so gay after it. One of the ladies with the pearls, who was also supping, was so friendly to the man next her; Pezon was of their party, and he did look common in clothes, while he was quite handsome in spangled tights.
We were obliged to go slowly in the motor car returning, there were such heaps of people and carts and things on the road, but we got back to Croixmare about two; and I have slept so late this morning, so now, good-bye, dear Mamma.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
Chateau de Croixmare,
_Wednesday, August 31st_.
[Sidenote: _Back at Croixmare_]
Dearest Mamma,--To-day is the dinner and _cotillon_ at the de Tournelles'. The Marquis and the Vicomte and ”Antoine” and every one will be there, and I am sure it will be fun. The Vicomte can't get leave for the night, so the Baronne--who was here yesterday on her bicycle--told us. He will have to ride back to Versailles, as there are no trains at that time, to be there for some duty at six in the morning. I can't tell you how many miles it is; he will be tired, poor thing. These last two days have been just alike, that is why I have not written--the same tiresome ceremony about everything, and the same ghastly evenings.
We went for a drive on Monday, and G.o.dmamma did nothing but question me as to what we had done every minute of the time while we were in Paris.
This is the first chance she has had with me alone. So I would not tell her a sc.r.a.p, even a simple thing like Heloise going to the Madeleine.
She thinks I am fearfully stupid, I can see. I forgot to tell you about the morning we left Paris; Heloise went to see Adam again, and I went shopping with Agnes, but I would not even tell G.o.dmamma that! Victorine says spiteful things to me whenever she can, but Jean and Heloise are so charming that I don't mind the rest. We are to wear sort of garden-party dresses and hats at the entertainment to-night. Dinner is to be at eight, in a large pavilion, where they have had a beautiful parquet floor laid down, and then when the tables are cleared away, we shall begin the _cotillon_. As I have never danced in one before, I hope I sha'n't make an idiot of myself.
[Sidenote: _Etiquette of the Bathroom_]
This morning I very nearly had another row with G.o.dmamma--you will never guess what for, Mamma! She knocked at the door of my room before I was quite dressed, and then came in with a face as glum as a church.
She began at once. She said that she had heard something about me that she hoped was a mistake, so she thought it better to ask me herself.
She understood that I went down to the Salle de Bain every day, instead of just was.h.i.+ng in my room. (I _have_ done so ever since Agnes discovered there really was water enough for a decent bath there, and that no one else seemed to use it.) I began to wonder if she was going to accuse me of tampering with the taps--but not a bit of it! After a rigmarole, as if she thought it almost too shocking to mention, she said she understood from her maid, who had heard it from the _valet de chambre_ who clears out the bath after I leave, that there never were any wet chemises, and that she was therefore forced to conclude that I got into my tub ”_toute nue_!”
I had been so worked up for something dreadful, that I am sorry to say, Mamma, I went into a shriek of laughter. That seemed to annoy G.o.dmamma very much; she got as red as a turkey-c.o.c.k, and said she saw nothing to cause mirth--in fact, she had hoped I should have been ashamed at such deplorable immodesty, if, as she feared from my att.i.tude, her accusation was correct. I said, when I could stop laughing, of course it was correct, how in the world else _should_ one get into a bath?
[Sidenote: _The Marquis Again_]
Her eyes almost turned up into her head with horror; she could only gasp, ”Mais si quelqu'un ouvrait la porte?” ”Mais je la ferme toujours a clef,” I said, and then I asked her if in France they also dried themselves in their wet chemises? But she said that that was a childish question, as I must know it would be an impossibility; and when I said I could not see any difference in was.h.i.+ng or drying, she was so stumped she was obliged to sit down and fan herself. I smoothed her down by a.s.suring her it was the English custom, and that I was sorry I shocked her so. At last I got rid of her, evidently thinking our nation ”_brlee_,” as well as ”_toquee_”. Now aren't they too odd, Mamma? I suppose a nice big bath is such a rare thing for them that they are obliged to make as much fuss as possible over it. One would think they received company there, dressing up like that! Heloise and the smart people wash all right; it is only the girls and the thoroughly goody ones like G.o.dmamma who are afraid of water.
5.30 _p.m._--The Marquis came over from Tournelle with a note from the Baronne after _dejener_ to-day. I happened to be getting some music out of the big salon for Heloise when he arrived. Louis, the valet, who showed him in, did not catch sight of me as I was behind the piano, or he would certainly have taken him somewhere else. He began at once (after putting his heels together) to say a lot of compliments and things. This was a fortunate chance--more than he had dared to hope--would I promise to dance the _cotillon_ with him to-night? etc., etc. You would not believe, Mamma, the amount he got into the five minutes before Heloise came into the room. She knew it was her own fault for sending for the music that I was alone with him, or I should have got a scolding; as it was, she talked without ceasing until at last he got up to go. I had not answered about the _cotillon_, so as I have half promised the Vicomte I don't know which I shall take; perhaps I could manage both, as I believe one only has to sit on a chair and every now and then get up and dance. However, I will see when I get there. Now good-bye, dear Mamma.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
Chateau de Croixmare,