Three
sets of provincial families. They are really awful these
entertainments, and so different to English ones! Nobody bothers about
even numbers. You feel obliged to ask the X's, the Y's, and the Z's
from duty, and so you do. It doesn't in the least matter if they are
mostly females; you have to ask the family, because if the daughters
are grown up they can't be left at home alone--they would be getting
into mischief. This is the kind of assortment that arrives: Papa X,
Mamma X, and two girl X'es; Papa Y, Mamma Y, and Master and Miss Y;
Papa Z, Mamma Z, Aunt Z, and Mdlle. Z--such a party!
Godmamma just revels in these frumps; they make Heloise furious, and
the airs of Victorine, her coyness and giggling, nearly drove me wild.
I sat next to Monsieur Y, and although he is a Baron of very old family
he ate like a _pig_. The food was extraordinarily good, but the proof
of good service here is to get the whole dinner--of I don't know how
many courses--over under the hour. So one has no sooner swallowed a
mouthful, when one's plate is snatched away, and one begins to devour
something else.
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