My husband looked me over more anxiously than ever he had done
before; and I wished, for his sake, that I had been prettier and
fitter to make a figure among all these grand French ladies.
My height was a great trouble to me in those unformed days. I had so
much more length to dispose of than my neighbours, and I knew they
remarked me the more for it; and then my hair never would remain in
curl for half an hour together. My mother could put it up safely,
but since I had left her it was always coming down, like flax from a
distaff; and though I had in general a tolerably fresh and rosy
complexion, heat outside and agitation within made my whole face,
nose and all, instantly become the colour of a clove gillyflower. It
had so become every afternoon on the journey, and I knew I was
growing redder and redder every moment, and that I should put him, my
own dear Viscount, to shame before his aunt.
'Oh! my friend,' I sighed, 'pardon me, I cannot help it.'
'Why should I pardon thee?' he answered tenderly. 'Because thou hast
so great and loving a heart?'
'Ah! but what will thine aunt think of me?'
'Let her think,' he said. 'Thou art mine, not Madame's.'
I know not whether those words made me less red, but they gave me
such joyous courage that I could have confronted all the dragoons,
had I been of the colour of a boiled lobster, and when he himself
sprinkled me for the last time with essences, I felt ready to defy
the censure of all the marchionesses in France.
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