'"Pillage!"
'"Certainly." And every one cries:
'"Oh, well, if there is pillage, I will be in it."
'"I shall come to your house, madame," says one. "I shall carry away this beautiful vase."
'"And I, the plate."
'"And I, the charming portrait."
'"I have no fixed idea yet. I shall come to your house to-morrow, madame, to choose," &c.
'"All this will be very amusing; and yet, when the day comes, I shall not be sorry to be in Italy."
'"Well, let us set out, then."
'"Not yet, but soon. I will warn you when it is best to go." And so they talk on of all these horrible things, half buried under canopies of lampas, surrounded by flowers, by the light of thousands of wax-candles burning in golden lustres; and these women, who foresee such great catastrophes—tragical events, which may divide them from all they love, from parents, from friends—have beautiful dresses, with trimmings from England, and make the prettiest little gestures while speaking. It is because in France vanity is so deeply rooted that it leads to indifference. Presumption stands in lieu of courage. They believe in disasters, but only for others: they never seem to expect them for themselves.'