_May 21st._--By this time we were sufficiently settled to have some masters. The dancing master who had been recommended to us was Monsieur le Breton. I believe he taught dancing very well in the French style and took a good deal of pains, but he was not a very agreeable master. The French dancing is completely different from the English; they think it beautiful to dance on the flat of the foot and to bend every step, which makes the dancing look very heavy: they do not like jumping, although their steps are full of little hops. Their tunes too are very dull. The French in general do not admire the English dancing; we were told, however, of one English lady who had danced at the balls, quite after the English fashion, and whose dancing had been very much admired. The constant cry of Monsieur Breton was _pliez, pliez_, and indeed part of the time we danced on a stone floor so that we could dance heavy enough to please him. He had expressions like the rest of the French, such as dancing, or working, 'like an angel,' etc. He called the little ones Williaume, Henault, and Coquette. Our dancing master had one very disagreeable, though common French trick; he used to spit so about the floor that it was quite unpleasant to dance. He taught six of us three times a week for six francs a lesson. He had the smallest kit I ever saw. He stayed two hours each time. Madame Breton was a dressmaker. We tried her, but she was by no means a good one. She had three children, one of whom was an idiot; and as three children in France are reckoned a large family, she used always to be complaining. The best dressmaker was Mademoiselle Bouillet, Rue Charcelere. She made our things very well; but towards the last, when she found we were going away, she hurried over the work without taking the least pains, charging very dear for some things, and quite spoiling others. She used constantly to be promising us to send our things, and as often breaking her promise. She one day told us very coolly that we might believe _her_ promises, as she never told lies; that her little girl was in the habit of lying, but that it was not the case with herself. Another day she told us it was not her _nature_ to tell lies, but her profession. The French people do not seem to think it wrong to cheat or lie, or the least disgraceful to be told they do. Sometimes when we thought anything we were buying dear, and told the shopkeeper that we had bought the same thing cheaper in another shop, she answered, 'O madame, vous ne pouvez pas; c'est impossible.' * * * * * Monsieur Violet was our French master. He was a good-humoured little man, and spoke English very well. He generally wore a green coat and light drab slippers; his hair looked as if it had not been combed out for a month: altogether he very much resembled an ape. He came for an hour every day, and charged two francs a lesson. * * * * *