All these places were frequented much more than Tivoli is to-day. It is surprising, too, that the Parisians, who have nothing but the Tuileries and the Luxembourg, should have renounced those other resorts, which were half urban and half rural, where you went in the evening to get a breath of air and eat ices. CHAPTER II UP THE LADDER OF FAME TEDIOUS SOJOURN IN THE COUNTRY -- SOCIAL AMENITIES IN PARIS -- MLLE. VIGEE BECOMES MME. LEBRUN -- PROGNOSTICATIONS OF UNHAPPY WEDLOCK -- ON THE LADDER OF FAME -- SINGULARITIES OF ORIENTAL TASTE -- MARIE ANTOINETTE AS A MODEL -- PAINTING THE ROYAL FAMILY -- HOW LOUIS XVIII. SANG -- THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE. My detestable stepfather, annoyed no doubt by the public admiration shown my mother, forbade us to go for any more walks, and informed us that he was about to take a place in the country. At this announcement my heart beat with joy, for I was passionately fond of the country. I had been sleeping near the foot of my mother's bedstead, in a dark corner where the light of day never penetrated. Every morning, whatever the weather might be, my first care was to open the window wide, such was my thirst for fresh air. So my stepfather took a small cottage at Chaillot, and we went there on Saturday, spent Sunday there, and returned to Paris on Monday morning. Good heavens, what a country! Imagine a tiny vicarage garden, without a tree, without any shelter from the blazing sun but a little arbour, where my stepfather had planted some beans and nasturtium, which refused to grow. At that we only occupied a quarter of this delightful garden, for it was divided into four by slender railings, and the three other sections were let out to shopboys, who came every Sunday and amused themselves by shooting at the birds. The incessant noise threw me into a desperate state of mind, besides which I was terribly afraid of being killed by these marksmen, so inaccurate was their aim. I could not understand why this stupid, ugly place, the very recollection of which makes me yawn as I write, was "the country." At last my good angel brought to my rescue a friend of my mother's, who one day came to dine with us at Chaillot with her husband. Both were sorry for me in my exile, and sometimes took me out for a charming drive. [Illustration: MADAME VIGEE LEBRUN Marked: "Virginia Lebrun, St. Luke's Gallery, Rome".]