--Now,
good-night, dear Mamma, your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
_P.S._--An awful wind is blowing. I hope I shan't be drowned crossing
the Channel.--E.
Chateau de Croixmare,
_Thursday night_.
[Sidenote: _The Emotion of the Marquis_]
Dearest Mamma,--I hope you got the telegram all right to-day saying I
would not leave. The storm became really so fearful they would not hear
of my starting, and as it has turned out I am very glad, for to-night
we dined at Tournelle to celebrate the Baronne's birthday, and we had
such an amusing time. All the usual lot were there, as well as those
two officers who came to the _Foire_ with us, and about three or four
more people from Paris, so we were quite a large party. Everybody gave
the Baronne a present, and _such_ baskets of flowers as she had in the
salon! "Assez pour tourner la tete," as Hippolyte said.
The Baronne was dressed in pale mauve and looked lovely, only such a
funny thing happened at dinner. The Vicomte, who sat next to her, made
her laugh dreadfully, just as she was eating her soup, and she choked,
and suddenly one cheek quite fell in, while the other stuck out as if a
potato was in it.
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