Before we left, the Marquis turned up, he looked thoroughly worn out and as _piano_ as a beaten dog. He was awfully polite to Jean and Héloise, and hardly looked at me, but as I did not want to leave with him still feeling cross with me, I got the chance at last to tell him I hoped he would be happy, and to congratulate him. He bowed deeply and thanked me, and then under his breath, as he stooped to pick up a flower I had dropped, he said, "Vous avez brisé mon coeur, et cela m'est égal ce qui arrive,"--but I don't believe it, Mamma, he has not got a heart to break, he is only a silly doll and worthy of Victorine. I saw the Baronne talking to him seriously while we were having "five o'clock;" and just as we were starting, she came up and said low to Héloise, who was beside me, "J'espère que tout va bien, Adèle l'a remplacé, et ne veut plus de lui! Oh! la bonne fille!" So whoever "Adèle" is, I suppose she has done Victorine a good turn. I asked Héloise on our way home if "Adèle" was a relation of the Marquis's, and she went into fits of laughter and said, "Oui, une très proche," but I can't see anything to laugh at, can you, Mamma? [Sidenote: _A Country Dinner Party_] In the evening there was a _ghastly_ dinner party at Croixmare. Three sets of provincial families. They are really awful these entertainments, and so different to English ones! Nobody bothers about even numbers. You feel obliged to ask the X's, the Y's, and the Z's from duty, and so you do. It doesn't in the least matter if they are mostly females; you have to ask the family, because if the daughters are grown up they can't be left at home alone--they would be getting into mischief. This is the kind of assortment that arrives: Papa X, Mamma X, and two girl X'es; Papa Y, Mamma Y, and Master and Miss Y; Papa Z, Mamma Z, Aunt Z, and Mdlle. Z--such a party! Godmamma just revels in these frumps; they make Héloise furious, and the airs of Victorine, her coyness and giggling, nearly drove me wild. I sat next to Monsieur Y, and although he is a Baron of very old family he ate like a _pig_. The food was extraordinarily good, but the proof of good service here is to get the whole dinner--of I don't know how many courses--over under the hour. So one has no sooner swallowed a mouthful, when one's plate is snatched away, and one begins to devour something else. But with this awful man gobbling at my side, and those foolish girls giggling beyond, even the forty minutes seemed ages.