Champs ElysÉes,

Friday, 26th August.

A Visit to the Dentist

Dearest Mamma,—You will be surprised to see this address, but HÉloise and I are only staying here for the night, and go back to Croixmare to-morrow. Early this morning she had bad toothache, and said she must go to Paris to see her dentist Godmamma and Jean made as much fuss about it as if the poor thing had suggested something quite unheard of; and one could see how she was suffering, by the way she kept her handkerchief up to her face. Godmamma said she could not possibly accompany her, as she had to pay some important calls; and Jean had promised to be at St. Germain to see some horses with the Vicomte, so HÉloise suggested I should go with her; and that we should stay the night at the appartement in the Champs ElysÉes, so that she could have two appointments with M. Adam, the dentist. She has such beautiful teeth, it seems hard that they should ache, and I felt very sorry for her. After a lot of talking it was arranged that we should go up by the 11 o'clock train, and accordingly we started with as much fuss as if we had been departing for a month. We had no sooner got to Paris than HÉloise felt better. She left me to go on with the maids and luggage to the Champs ElysÉes, while she went to see M. Adam.

Paris looked out-of-seasonish and full of Americans as we drove through. I am sitting in the little salon now, waiting for her to come 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.

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 stories she told about Victorine's liking flowers. I thought she would never come back, she was such a time, quite three-quarters of an hour; and it was horrid sitting there alone, with every creature staring as they passed.

Directly after she went in I caught a glimpse of "Antoine" in a coupÉ, going at a great pace, but I could not make him see me before he had turned down the street that goes to the back of the Madeleine. I wish he had seen me, for, although I never like him very much, he would have been better than nobody to talk to. I believe I should have even been glad to see Lord Valmond. At last I got so cross, what with the people staring, and the heat and the smells, that I jumped out and went to look for HÉloise in the church. She was nowhere to be seen, and I did not like to peer into every box I came to, so at last I was going back to the cab again, when from the end door that leads out into the other street at the back, the rue Tronchet, she came tearing along completely essoufflÉe. So I suppose there must be some confessing place beyond. She seemed quite cross with me for having come to find her, and said it was not at all proper to walk about a church alone, which does seem odd, doesn't it, Mamma? As one would have thought if there was any place really respectable to stroll in, it would have been a church.

Church Etiquette

I told her how bored I was, and about "Antoine" passing, and how I had tried to make him see. She seemed more annoyed than ever, and said I must have made some mistake, as "Antoine" was not in Paris. She was awfully shocked at the idea of my wanting to speak to him in the street anyway, and said I surely must know it was the custom here for the men to bow first. She was altogether so cross and excited and different that I felt sure her confesseur must have given her some disagreeable penance. We went for a drive in the Bois after that, and HÉloise recovered, and was nice to me. We met the Marquise de Vermandoise and a young man walking in one of the side allÉes, and when I wanted to wave to them HÉloise pinched me, and made me look the other way; and when I asked why, she said it was not very good form to "see" people in Paris out of the Season—that one never was sure what they were there for—and that I was certainly not to mention it either at Tournelle or Croixmare! Isn't this a queer country, Mamma?

Morals and Manners

We drove until quite late, and just as we were arriving at the door, who should pass but the Marquis? He stopped at once and helped us out. HÉloise told him directly that we were only up seeing the dentist, and seemed in a great hurry to get into the porte cocher; but he was not to be shaken off, and stopped talking to us for about five minutes. He is quite amusing; he looked at me all the time he was talking to HÉloise. I am sure, Mamma, from what the people at Nazeby talked about, he would have asked us to dine and go to a play if he had been an Englishman, and I told HÉloise so. She said no Frenchman would dream of such a thing—us two alone—it was unheard of! and she only hoped no one had seen us talking to him in the street as it was! I said I liked the English way best, as in that case we should be going out and enjoying ourselves, instead of eating a snatchy meal alone.

It is now nine o'clock, and all the evening we have had to put up with just sitting on the balcony. It has been dull, and I am off to bed, so good-night, dear Mamma. I shan't come up to Paris with French people again in a hurry!--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.