He was polite, and made conversation all
the time in the train, and as the engine kept puffing and shrieking I
was obliged to continually say "_Pardon?_" so it made it rather heavy.
I think he has changed a good deal since their wedding--let me
see--that must be eight years ago, as I was nine then; I hardly
remembered him.
Godmamma was waiting for us in the hall when we arrived. Chateau de
Croixmare is a nice place, but I _am_ glad I am not French. It was the
hottest night of the year almost, and not a breath of air in the house,
every shutter closed and the curtains drawn. Heloise had gone to bed
with a _migraine_, Godmamma explained, but Victorine was there. She has
grown up plain, and looks much more than five years older than me. They
weren't in evening dress, or even tea-gowns like in England--it did
seem strange.
Mme. de Croixmare looks a dragon! I can't think how poor papa insisted
upon my having such a godmother. Her face is quite white, and her hair
so black and drawn off her forehead, and she has a bristly moustache.
She is also very up right and thin, and walks with an ebony stick, and
her voice is like a peacock's.
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