Then came the wedding-feast in the great hall, for which Alix and I had been preparing a week beforehand; (and after all, I am certain Héloïse forgot to put any more sugar in the placentæ[#]): and then the hall was cleared, and we danced till supper-time. Then, after supper, the minstrels played; and Lady Isabeau and I, with all the other ladies there, went up and put the bride to bed: and after throwing the stocking and all the other ceremonies,—and I am glad to say it did not hit me,[#] but that ugly Elise de la Puissaye,—we came back into the hall, and danced again till it was time to take up the posset.[#] Oh, I was tired when I did get to bed at last! I should not like to be at another wedding next week. [#] Cheesecakes. [#] The girl hit by the stocking was expected to be married next. [#] This serving of a posset to the newly-married pair in the night was a purely French custom. Well, it really is a very good thing that Alix is gone. I have had some peace these last two days. And there! if the very last thing she did before going was not to do me an ill turn! She went and persuaded Monseigneur to invite Umberge to come and take the reins. Oh, of course _I_ could not be expected to understand anything!—(what sort of a compliment was that to her teaching?)—I was a mere baby, full of nonsense,—and all on in that way. And when Monseigneur was so good as to say that I did not like the idea of Umberge’s coming, and he thought he would try what I could do, Alix fairly laughed in his face. As if I were fit to decide!—the baby that I was!—she said. Thank you very much, Dame Alix de Montbeillard; perhaps I have more sense than you suppose. At any rate, I am very glad of one thing,—that we have got rid of _you_. Oh dear! I wonder whether any body ever thinks that it would be nice to get rid of me? But then I am not disagreeable, like Alix. I am sure I am not. Now, why is it that when one gets something one has been wishing for a long while, one does _not_ feel satisfied with it? I have been fancying for months how pleasant it would be when Alix was gone, and there would be no one to find fault with me. Yet it is not pleasant at all. I thought it would be peaceful, and it is dull. And only this afternoon Raoul was as cross with me as he could be. Monseigneur took my part, as he well might, because of course I was right; but still it was disagreeable. Why don’t I feel more happy? I thought I would see what Marguerite would say, and I asked her what she thought about it. She only smiled, and said,—"Such is the way of the world, my Damoiselle, since men forsook the peaceful paths of God." "But why do things look so much more delightful beforehand than when they come?" said I. "The Damoiselle has a vivid fancy. Does she never find that things look more unpleasant at a distance?" "Well, I don’t know—perhaps, sometimes," I said. "But disagreeable things are always disagreeable."