The Baronne kept screaming when the boat rocked a little. "Nous ferons naufrage! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" and the Vicomte tried to comfort her, but she did not stop till Hippolyte popped his head out of the cabin and said, "Pas de danger! et il ne faut pas que Mme. la Baronne fasse la Bebête!"
At déjeûner we had only one plate each, and one knife and fork. It was so windy we could not have it under the awning in the bows, and the cabin is so narrow that the seats are against the wall, and the table in the middle. No one can pass to wait, so between the courses we washed our plates in the Seine, out of the window. It was gay! They are all so witty, but it is not considered correct to talk just to one's neighbour, a conversation à deux. Everything must be general, so it is a continual sharpening of wits, and one has to shout a good deal, as otherwise, with every one talking at once, one would not be heard. I know French pretty well as you know, but they say a lot of strange things I can't understand, and whenever I answer or ask why, they go into fits of laughter and say, "Est elle gentille l'enfant! hein!"
We are going to stop at the next small village to post the letters, so good-bye, dear Mamma.—Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
P.S.—I hope you won't get muddled, Mamma, with all their names, it takes so long writing the whole thing, so please remember Mme. de Larnac is the "Baronne," Monsieur de Frémond is the "Baron," Monsieur de Tournelle is the "Comte," Mme. de Tournelle is the "Comtesse," Mme. de Vermondoise is the "Marquise," Monsieur de la Trémors is the "Vicomte," and "Antoine" is the other officer. So if I haven't always time to put their names you will know now which they are.
Vernon, Yacht Sauterelle,
Thursday morning.
Vernon
Dearest Mamma,—The scenery we came through yesterday is quite beautiful, but I did not pay so much attention to it as I might have done, because Jean and the Comte would talk to me. You would be amused at Vernon, where we stayed the night in such an inn! I believe it is the only one in the place, and as old as the hills. You get at the bedrooms from an open gallery that runs round the courtyard, and that smells of garlic and stables. We got here about six, and started en masse to inspect the rooms. Hippolyte had engaged them beforehand, and seemed rather apologetic about them, and finally, when there did not appear half enough to go round, he shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears and said, "Que voulez vous!" and that "Ces Messieurs" would have to be "très bourgeois en voyage," and that there was nothing for it but that Mme. la Comtesse de Tournelle should "partager l'appartement de Monsieur le Comte de Tournelle," and that Monsieur le Comte de Croixmare would have to extend like hospitality to Mme. la Comtesse de Croixmare. This caused shrieks of derision. Héloise said she would prefer to sleep on the dining-room table, and "Antoine" said he thought people ought to be a little more careful of their reputations even en voyage. Finally they unearthed a baby's cot in the room that Hippolyte had designed for the Croixmare menage, and de Tournelle said it was the very thing for me, but Jean replied, "Mon cher ami c'est une Bébé beaucoup trop emoustillante," which I thought very rude, just as if I snored, or something dreadful like that. Then, after a further prowl, a fearful little hole was discovered beyond, with no curtains to the windows, or blinds, or shutters, just a scrap of net. The face of Agnès when she saw it!
A Necessary Precaution