We had such an amusing dinner, the food was wonderful, considering the
place, but a _horrible_ cloth and pewter forks and spoons. There were
two _officiers_ at another table (only infantry), and they were _so_
interested in our party.
[Sidenote: _Close Quarters_]
"Antoine" sat next to me, and in a pause in the general conversation he
said to me (it is the first time he has addressed me directly), "Il
fait mauvais temps, mademoiselle." I have heard him saying all kinds of
_drole_ things to the others, so it shows he can be quite intelligent.
It is just because I am not married I suppose, so I said that is what
English people always spoke about--the weather--and I wanted to hear
something different in France. He seemed perfectly shocked, and hardly
spoke to me after that, but the Vicomte, who was listening, began at
once to say flattering things across the table. They all make
compliments upon my French, and are very gay and kind, but I wish they
did not eat so badly. The Comte and the Marquise, who are cousins, and
of the very oldest noblesse, are the worst--one daren't look sometimes.
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