After the procession had passed, we went to see the _reposoir_ of the Lyceum, which we were told was the prettiest. It is a building like a temple. The doors were shut, but a very civil, gentlemanly-looking person let us go in. The pillars were hung with wreaths of green, and there were rows of trees in boxes up the middle, cut like those in the gardens. The altar was a good deal ornamented: there were golden candlesticks, artificial flowers, etc., on it. They were putting away the things while we were there. The person who let us in said it was customary to give away the flowers; we got two or three, which were all that were left. Before the _reposoir_ there was grass laid for the priests to kneel upon; we saw some women picking it up. There was another _reposoir_ in the Avenue de Berri, and one near us at the end of the Avenue de Sceaux, which was made slightly up, out of doors. There were flower-pots on the sides, and a cross of lilies and roses on the top. The children had dressed up little chapels on tables against the wall, in the streets, with little figures, vials full of flowers, coloured paper, etc. As people went by they came to beg 'pour la petite chapelle.' One girl who came was quite a monster: she had no nose, and two teeth that stuck out of her mouth like tusks. Out of some of the windows in the streets were hung pieces of tapestry and old carpets. _June 26th._--Catherine was now extremely ill; indeed, no person seemed very well. What with the cold, and one thing and another, we grew more dismal than ever. This day papa told us for our comfort (for the first time) that as soon as Catherine was able we should all go home. This piece of intelligence made us all happy for a short time, as it was what we did not at all expect. I cannot tell what made me dislike France so very much; one reason I think was that I raised my expectations too high. I had heard so much of the fine climate, the excellent fruit, and the lively people, that I was quite disappointed at the cold weather, the bad fruit,[31] and the dull people. Besides, I felt so far away from home that I grew quite unhappy. Nothing seemed agreeable; I was tired of the gardens and the processions. My greatest amusement was a little rose-tree that died soon after I got it. In the morning when I got up, the only thing I wished was that the day was over, and that we had a day less to stay at Versailles. The family that had lived above us was now gone. Miss Ward and Miss Johnson--two Irish ladies, with Mab, their French servant--now inhabited that part of the house. They had come to France on account of being ill. They were remarkably civil in sending down 'comed-milk,'[32] fruit, or anything else they thought Catherine might like. BAKER _June 28th._--Carruthers saw our bread-baker standing at the street door talking to some women, with _nothing_ on him but a _small_ apron. The French do not seem to have _any_ idea what delicacy is. LAVOIR