me enough
for having assisted at this _denoument_.

All the evening Victorine played the tunes the music-master gave her,
and once or twice broke into a song of joy; but when I asked her to try
the one beginning "_Ma cruelle adoree,_" she looked green, and said she
was tired, and would go to bed.

[Sidenote: _A Game of Billiards_]

Then Jean and I had a game of billiards--we often do now after dinner.
The _salle de billard_ opens out of the salon, and there is a glass
like a window over the mantelpiece, so that you can see into the two
rooms from each other. It always reminds me of Alice, in "Through the
Looking Glass"--you expect to find a mirror, and you see into another
room. Godmamma generally accompanies us into the billiard-room, and
sits bolt upright in an armchair watching us, but to-night she was too
excited to pay us so much attention, and stayed talking to Heloise
about the engagement. Jean seemed nervous and sad, and knocked about
the balls aimlessly, not trying a bit. It is only French billiards, but
still one has to play properly, so at last I said that evidently the
good news of Victorine's engagement had so distracted him that he
could not pay attention to the game. He seemed quite startled. "Ma foi!
le jeu!" he said vacantly. I put down my cue and asked him quite gently
what was the matter?

Just then the bangle you gave me last Christmas came undone, so Jean
put his cue down too, and offered to fasten it. It is difficult to do
oneself, so I thanked him and handed him my wrist; his hands trembled
so he could not do it. I thought he was ill, and bent over him to see.
Fortunately at that moment we happened to be at the one part of the
table which can't be seen from the other room; because Jean behaved so
queerly--I feel sure Godmamma would have been horrified. He did not
worry about the bangle, but just began kissing my hand; simply _dozens_
of kisses. I pulled and pulled to try and get it away, but he would not
let go, and kept murmuring that at last, at last, he was alone with me!

Now wasn't it too annoying, Mamma? I could not call out or make a fuss,
because there would have been _such_ a scene, and you would never
think a Frenchman could be so strong. For although I wrenched and
dragged I could not get my hand away, and it was making me crosser and
crosser every minute. At last, when he began to kiss my wrist, it
tickled so I was afraid I should laugh, and then he would think I was
not serious