The Comtesse "adores" _le tennis_, and plays very well, it quite animates her. The Baronne plays too, but she doesn't hit the ball much, and screams most of the time; she was in the middle of a game when we arrived, and only stopped to pay all kinds of civilities to our party. Her pretty feet show when she runs about, but she wears a large black tulle hat with fluffy strings, and it does not seem very suitable for tennis. I had to walk with the old Curé when the path was not wide enough to trot all together. The gardens really are lovely, with all kinds of strange shrubs and trees, and _fontaines_ and _bosquets_, and nooks, but I don't see the least use in them if one has always to walk three in a row, if not more, do you, Mamma? The Curé was a charming old fellow, and explained all the plants to me. We had no sooner got back to the tennis ground than one felt something momentous was taking place between Godmamma and the Baronne. She had finished her tennis, and they were sitting away from the others, nodding their heads together. Victorine at once put on a conscious air, and minced more than usual. "Antoine" and Héloise seemed speaking seriously, while she examined his new racket. The Vicomte had begun a game, so could not talk to us, but some more officers were introduced, and, after the usual bowing, we began to talk. "Vous aimez le tennis, mademoiselle?" "Oui, monsieur," from Victorine. "Moi, je le déteste," from me. "Pas possible!" from every one. "Je vous assure on ne joue que le croquet chez nous." "Le croquet," from Victorine, "un jeu de Couvent!" "Le croquet! Et les anglais qui n'aiment que l'exercice!" from the officers, &c., &c. Very interesting, you see, one's conversations here! [Sidenote: _A Marriage Arranged_] All this time the Baronne and Godmamma were nodding their heads, and when Jean and Héloise joined them, they looked like those sets of mandarins that used to be on Uncle Charles's mantelpiece, and as we said Good-bye, the Baronne said to Godmamma, "Bien, chère madame, c'est entendu alors c'est pour demain." All the way home in the carriage, Victorine simpered. I felt I could have slapped her. In the evening there was an air of mystery about them all, and, quite unlike her usual custom, Héloise came into my room to chat when I was going to bed. Of course Agnès stayed as long as she could, but no sooner had we got rid of her, than Héloise told me what it was all about. It appears the Baronne has a nephew, who has made a heap of debts; he is a Marquis, and he wants to "redorer le blason." It is necessary for him to secure a large dot, but he is "si terriblement volage," that the extreme plainness of Victorine may put him off. The Baronne has been arranging it, and he is to be brought with his parent to breakfast, to sample her!