in, and I have got awfully tired just looking out of the window.
Everything is covered up with brown holland, but I dare say it is nice
when they are here. The tapestries are beautiful, so is the furniture,
judging by the piece I have lifted the coverings from. If she does not
come in soon I shall go for a walk with Agnès.

[Sidenote: _Paris in August_]

_9 p.m._--Héloise came in just as I was writing this morning, and we
had a scrappy kind of _déjeûner_ on the corner of the dining-room
table. Then she said we had better go to her _couturier_ in the Rue de
la Paix. She seemed all right now, and said M. Adam had not hurt her
much, and that she was to go to him again to-morrow morning. I always
like Paris even out of the season, don't you, Mamma? it is so gay. We
had a little victoria and rushed along, not minding who we ran into, as
is always the way with French cabs. When we got to Paquin's there were
nobody but Americans there, and every one looked tired. Héloise tried
on her things, and we went to Caroline's for some hats. They were too
lovely, and Héloise gave me a dream; it's an owl lighting on a
cornfield, which perhaps is a little incongruous as they only come out
at night, but the effect is good.

After that she said she felt she should like to go and see her
_confesseur_ at the Madeleine, and we started there on the chance of
finding him. She kept looking at her watch, so I suppose she was afraid
he would be gone. We stopped at the bottom of the big steps, and she
said if I would not mind waiting a minute she would go in and see. I
always thought one only confessed in the morning, but she seemed so
anxious about it that perhaps if you have anything particular on your
mind you can get it off in the afternoon; it might have been the