night. I think it must have taken us three days to come here. We are shut up in a big house with high walls and trees and gardens around it—a beautiful place. We have fine beds and everything to eat, only we miss the bouillabaisse, and the jokes of M. Pidgeon, and the fine old claret. A fat Englishwoman who waddles around like a big goose and who calls me Mumm (as if I were a wine-maker!) waits upon us. We do not know the name of our host. He is a tall man who says little and has hair on his neck and on the back of his hands. Dieu! he is a lord who talks as if he were too lazy to breathe. It is 'Your Lordship this' and 'Your Lordship that.' But I must speak well of him, because he is going to read this letter: it is on that condition I am permitted to write. Therefore I say he is a great and good man, a beautiful man. The baroness and Louise send love to all. Madame says do not worry; we shall come out all right: but I say worry! and, good man, do not cease to worry until we are safe home. Tell the curé he has something to do now. I have worn out my rosary, and am losing faith. Tell him to try his.
"Your affectionate
"She is an odd girl," said the count, as I gave back the letter, "so full of fun, so happy,
