It isn't as if he was an English Marquis
even, like Lord Valmond, that would be of some importance--but a
trumpery French title, without any land or money, it is ridiculous. Of
course, here no one has his own land really since the Revolution, I
mean like "Tournelle," they only call the new house that; I believe the
real "Tournelle" is down in Touraine somewhere and belongs to some one
else now. This _is_ Chateau de Croixmare, but then Jean's
great-grandfather bought it back again.
Now I have wandered from what I was telling you--oh! yes, about
Victorine and M. Dubois. He got up from his knees when he saw me, and
began fanning her, while she flopped more than ever, but I don't think
she felt very faint, her face was so red. And when "the Tug" returned
with the water I came away, as they both looked as if they wanted to
murder me. The excitement had made Monsieur Dubois' collar quite give
way, and he looked a dirtier and more pitiable object than usual.
[Sidenote: _The "Diner des Fiancailles"_]
Such an affair the "_Diner des fiancailles!_" Victorine wore a pink
dress too, with horrid bunches of daisies on her shoulders and in her
hair; and, as that is dark and greasy, and dragged off her face, and
done in the tightest twist at the top, it does not look a suitable
place for daisies to be sprouting from.
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