You can see Joan of Arc's flames quite plain, we went there as soon as we were dressed. "Antoine" would insist it was only the black from a smoky chimney, but I paid no attention to him. The _Horloge_ is nice, and we did a lot of churches, but they always look to me just the same, and any way they all smell alike, and I don't think I shall bother with any more. We had breakfast on the _Sauterelle_, but it was so fine after we left Vernon, and yesterday, that we could have it each day in the bows under the awning, and so had not to wash our forks and plates. The Châteaux are so picturesque, and such woods! after you leave Rouen. Héloise did not sleep yesterday. "Antoine" talked so much, no one could really have had a comfortable nap. In the afternoon the Marquise told us our fortunes; she said Héloise would marry twice, which made her look as pleased as Punch, but Jean did not think it at all funny, though every one else laughed She told me I should probably be an old maid ("_Coiffer St. Catherine_"), and so I said in that case I should run pins into the horrid old saint's head: I simply _won't_ be an old maid, Mamma, so they need not make any more predictions. However, it would be worse to be one here than at home, because even up to forty, if you aren't married, you mayn't go to the nice theatres, or talk to people alone, or even speak much more than "Yes" and "No," and you generally get a nasty moustache or something. We saw a whole family of elderly girls at our hotel at Rouen, and they all had moustaches or moles on the cheek. We got here (Caudebec) yesterday soon after four. Our inn looks right on to the Seine, and is as old nearly as the one at Vernon, but fortunately beautifully clean. Only you have to get at your room through somebody else's. Mine is beyond the Baronne's and Madame de Vermandoise gets at hers through the Comtesse de Tournelle's. Hers is the most ridiculous place, with a red curtain hanging across so that sometimes it can be turned into two; and such a thing happened last night. "Antoine" went in with the Comte de Tournelle to help him to shut the window, as Madame de Tournelle couldn't, when a gust of wind blew the door shut, and whether there was a spring lock or not I don't know, but any way nothing would induce it to open again. So there they were. We had stayed up rather late; the landlord and the servants were in bed. They rattled and shook and pushed, but to no purpose. [Sidenote: _A Misadventure_]