me tumbling in, to turn over the poor du Plessis.
"... Mlle. du Plessis will die of the _petite personne_. Being more
than half dead of jealousy already, she is always at my people to find
out how I treat her. Not one of them but has a pin ready. One says
that I love her as much as I do you; another that I have her to sleep
with me--which would assuredly be a notable sign of affection! They
swear that I am taking her to Paris, that I kiss her, am mad about
her; that the Abbe is giving her 10,000 _livres_; that if she had but
20,000 _ecus_ I should marry her to my son. That is the sort of thing;
and they carry it so far that we can't help laughing at it. The poor
lady is ill with it all."

To the same letter Charles adds his scene in the farce: "La Plessis
said to Rahuel (he was the concierge) yesterday that she had been
gratified at dinner to find that Madame had turned the child out of
her seat and put herself in the place of honour. And Rahuel, in his
Breton way: 'Nay, Miss, there's no wonder. 'Tis an honour to your
years, naturally. Besides, the little girl is one of the house, as
you might say. Madame looks on her almost as she might be Madame de
Grignan's little sister.'"

La Plessis, in fact, agonised, and the way was made for the great
scene--so good a scene that I think it must have been bagged for
the theatre. Labiche must surely have lifted it. It is Charles de
Sevigne's masterpiece.

"The young party here, when she saw how my mother's pains
increased towards night, thought that the best thing she could
do for her was to cry--which she did. She is that sort, and
always the focus of jealousy for la Plessis, who tries to
recommend herself to my mother by hating her like the devil.
This is what happened yesterday. My mother was dozing quietly
in bed; the child, the Abbe and I were by the fire. In came La
Plessis. We warned her to come quietly, and she did, and was
half across the room when my mother coughed, and then asked
for her handkerchief to get rid of some phlegm. The child and
I jumped up to get it, but La Plessis was too quick for us,
rushed to the bed, and instead of putting the thing to my
mother's lips, caught hold of her nose with it, and pinched
it so hard that the poor dear cried out with the pain. She
couldn't help being sniffy with the old fuss who had hurt
her so--nor laughing at her afterwards. If you had seen this
little c