Dearest Mamma,--The longer I stay, here the more glad I am that I am
not French! Victorine is going to be shown to her future _fiancé_
to-day, but I must first tell you how it came about. We went to Château
de Tournelle yesterday to pay our visit, Godmamma, Victorine, and I in
the victoria, and Jean and Héloise in the phaeton. They were in the
garden playing tennis with a party of friends from Versailles, and
among them, of course, the Vicomte and "Antoine." They were all so glad
to see me, and the Baronne called me her "_chère petite_," and kissed
me on both cheeks, as if we had been parted for months. The
Vicomte--when he had done putting his heels together and bowing to
Victorine and me, and kissing Héloise's and Godmamma's hands--managed
to get in, in a lower voice, that his ride from Versailles now seemed
to him to have been very short. Upon which Victorine at once said,
"_Comment?_" with the expression of a terrier whose ears are suddenly
cocked up on the alert. He bowed more deeply than ever, and said that
he was saying it was a long ride from Versailles! So you see that
Frenchmen are not truthful, Mamma! Well--then we were sent to look at
the gardens, accompanied by Jean and the Curé.

[Sidenote: _An Untruthful Frenchman_]

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