is coming every morning to give me lessons, for I must be
able to dance in a month, or I can't go to the ball.

Before dinner, my mother came to talk about the governess with me. I
have decided to keep Miss Griffith, who was recommended by the English
ambassador. Miss Griffith is the daughter of a clergyman; her mother was
of good family, and she is perfectly well bred. She is thirty-six, and
will teach me English. The good soul is quite handsome enough to have
ambitions; she is Scotch--poor and proud--and will act as my chaperon.
She is to sleep in Rose's room. Rose will be under her orders. I saw at
a glance that my governess would be governed by me. In the six days we
have been together, she has made very sure that I am the only
person likely to take an interest in her; while, for my part, I have
ascertained that, for all her statuesque features, she will prove
accommodating. She seems to me a kindly soul, but cautious. I have not
been able to extract a word of what passed between her and my mother.

Another trifling piece of news! My father has this morning refused the
appointment as Minister of State which was offered him. This accounts
for his preoccupied manner last night. He says he would prefer an
embassy to the worries of public debate. Spain in especial attracts him.

This news was told me at lunch, the one moment of the day when my
father, mother, and brother see each other in an easy way. The servants
then only come when they are rung for. The rest of the day my brother,
as well as my father, spends out of the house. My mother has her toilet
to make; between two and four she is never visible; at four o'clock she
goes out for an hour's drive; when she is not dining out, she receives
from six to seven, and the evening is given to entertainments of various
kinds--theatres, balls, concerts, at homes. In short, her life is so
full, that I don't believe she ever has a quarter of an hour to herself.
She must spend a considerable time dressing in the morning; for at
lunch, which takes place between eleven and twelve, she is exquisite.
The meaning of the things that are said about her is dawning on me. She
begins the day with a bath barely warmed, and a cup of cold coffee with
cream; then she dresses. She is never, except on some great emergency,
called before nine o'clock. In summer there are morning rides, and at
two o'clock she receives a young man whom I have never yet contrived to
see.

Behold our family lif