Part 8 (1/2)
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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 was.h.i.+ng, 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.