Now that I am peaceful and have forgotten my perturbations, Suzette will jolly me up--I have used the right term there!--Suzette does jolly one--! I feel I could write out here, but not about William and Mary furniture--! I could write a cynical story of the Duc de Richelieu's loves.--Armande, the present duc, tells me that he has a dispatch box filled with the love letters his ancestor received--their preservation owed to a faithful valet who kept them all separated in bundles tied with different ribbons--and every lock of hair and souvenir attached to each.--There is an idea!--I wonder if Burton has ever thought of keeping mine? He would not have had a heavy job in these last years--! I read all the mornings, seated in the sun--I read Plato--I want to furbish up my Greek--For no reason on earth except that it is difficult, and perhaps if I start doing difficult things I may get more will. * * * * * Suzette arrived in an entirely new set of garments--the "_geste_" had altered, she said, one had to have a different look, and she was sure the autumn fashions would be even more pronounced. "As you can readily understand, my friend, one cannot be _démodé, dans le metier_,--especially in war time!--" Naturally I agreed with her--. "The only unfortunate part is that it obliged me to break into the sum for Georgine's education." "That is at least reparable"--I answered, and reached for my cheque-book--Suzette is such a good little sort--and clothes give her pleasure--and fancy being able to give _real pleasure_ for a few thousand francs--pleasure, not comfort, or charity, or any respectable thing, but just _pleasure_! The only worry about this cheque was that Suzette was a little too affectionate after it!--I would nearly always rather only talk to her--now. She accompanied my bath chair on to the terrace. Her ridiculous little outline and high heels contradicting all ideas of balance, and yet presenting an indescribable elegance. She prattled gaily--then when no one was looking she slipped her hand into mine. "_Mon cher! Mon petit chou!_" she said. We had the gayest dinner in my sitting-room--. "The war was certainly nearing its close--Toinette, the friend of one of the Generals, assured her--people were thoroughly bored, and it was an excellent thing to finish it--." "But even when peace comes, never again the restaurants open all night to dance, Nicholas!--there is a sadness, my friend!" That was one of the really bad aspects of wars--the way they upset people's habits--, she told me. Even "_dans le metier_" things became of an uncertainty! '--One was never sure if the _amant_ would not be killed--and it might be difficult to replace him advantageously!' "It is perhaps fortunate for you that I am wounded and an institution, Suzette!"