see me, and
commanded that I be presented at court--_grande rumeur_!

Mamma consented to let me remain the whole week out of the convent. Every
day there was a grand dinner or breakfast and every evening a dance or a
grand ball. Always it was Abner who accompanied me. I wrote of all my
pleasures to my mother Catharine. Joseph read my letters to her, and, as
he told me in later days, they gave him mortal pain. For the presentation
my mother ordered a suit all of gold and velvet. Madelaine and I were
presented the same day. The Countess de Segur was my escort [marraine] and
took me by the hand, while Mme. de Chevigne rendered the same office to
Madelaine. Abner told me that day I was as pretty as an angel. If I was so
to him, it was because he loved me. I knew, myself, I was too small, too
pale, and ever so different from Madelaine. It was she you should have
seen.

I went back to the convent, and during the year that I passed there I was
lonely enough to have died. It was decided that I should be married
immediately on leaving the convent, and my mother ordered for me the most
beautiful wedding outfit imaginable. My father bought me jewels of every
sort, and Abner did not spare of beautiful presents.

I had been about fifteen days out of the convent when terrible news caused
me many tears. My dear Madelaine was about to leave me forever and return
to America. The reason was this: there was much disorder in the colony of
Louisiana, and the king deciding to send thither a man capable of
restoring order, his choice fell upon Count Louis de la Houssaye, whose
noble character he had recognized. Count Louis would have refused, for he
had a great liking for France; but [he had lately witnessed the atrocities
committed by the negroes of San Domingo, and[24]] something--a
presentiment--warned him that the Revolution was near at hand. He was glad
to bear his dear wife far from the scenes of horror that were approaching
with rapid strides.

Madelaine undoubtedly experienced pleasure in thinking that she was again
going to see her parents and her native land, but she regretted to leave
France, where she had found so much amusement and where I must remain
behind her without hope of our ever seeing each other again. She wept, oh,
so much!

She had bidden me good-bye and we had wept long, and her last evening, the
eve of the day when she was to take the diligence for Havre, where the
vessel awaited them, was to be passed in famil