All the morning gentlemen in uniform kept on arriving to congratulate him on something. At table he was in a better humour than I have ever seen him in before, and told comic stories. After dinner he lifted me up to his neck and said: ‘Look at this, Madgie, what do you think it is?’ I saw a small ribbon. I sniffed at it, but could not discover any smell whatever; finally I licked it. It had a faint salt taste.”

Hum! the dog is getting rather . . . She must take care or she will get thrashed. Oh! so he is ambitious! This must be made a note of.

“. . . Adieu, ma chère! In great haste, etc., etc. I will finish my letter tomorrow. —Well, good morning! Here I am again. To-day, my mistress Sophie . . .”

Well, what about Sophie? Damnation! But no, no . . . on with the letters:

“. . . my mistress Sophie was in a great flutter. She was going to a ball, and I was delighted, because while she was away I could write to you. My Sophie is always delighted to go to a ball, though she usually gets angry when she is being dressed. I have never been able to understand why people dress. Why do not they go about as we do, for instance? So nice and convenient. Nor can I ever understand, ma chère, what pleasure there is in going to a ball. Sophie always comes home from balls at six in the morning, and I can almost always guess, from her pale and exhausted face, that the poor girl has been given nothing to eat. I must own, I could never live like that.