Agahta Christie - An autobiography Part 10

I don't suppose I was at Miss Guyer's more than a year and a half; after that my mother had another idea. With her usual suddenness she explained that I was now going to Paris. She would let Ashfield for the winter, we would go to Paris; I might perhaps start at the same pension pension at which my sister had been, and see how I liked it. at which my sister had been, and see how I liked it.

Everything went according to plan; mother's arrangements always did. She carried them out with the utmost efficiency, and bent everyone to her will. An excellent let was obtained for the house; mother and I packed all our trunks (I don't know that there were quite so many round-topped monsters as there had been when we went to the South of France, but there were still a goodly number), and in next to no time we were settled in the Hotel d'lena, in the Avenue d'Iena in Paris.

Mother was laden with letters of introduction and the addresses of various pensionnats pensionnats and schools, teachers and advisers of all kinds. She had things sorted out before long. She heard that Madge's and schools, teachers and advisers of all kinds. She had things sorted out before long. She heard that Madge's pensionnat pensionnat had changed its character and gone downhill as the years pa.s.sedMademoiselle T. herself had either given up or was about to give upso my mother merely said we could try it for a bit, and see. This att.i.tude towards schooling would hardly be approved of nowadays, but to my mother trying a school was exactly like trying a new restaurant. If you looked inside you couldn't tell what it was like; you must try it, and if you didn't like it the sooner you moved from it the better. Of course then you had not to bother with G. C. E. School Certificate, O levels, A levels and serious thoughts for the future. had changed its character and gone downhill as the years pa.s.sedMademoiselle T. herself had either given up or was about to give upso my mother merely said we could try it for a bit, and see. This att.i.tude towards schooling would hardly be approved of nowadays, but to my mother trying a school was exactly like trying a new restaurant. If you looked inside you couldn't tell what it was like; you must try it, and if you didn't like it the sooner you moved from it the better. Of course then you had not to bother with G. C. E. School Certificate, O levels, A levels and serious thoughts for the future.

I started at Mademoiselle T.'s, and stayed there for about two months, until the end of the term. I was fifteen. My sister had distinguished herself on arriving, when she was dared by some other girl to jump out of a window. She had immediately done soand arrived slap in the middle of a tea-table round which Mademoiselle T. and distinguished parents were sitting. 'What hoydens these English girls are!' exclaimed Mademoiselle T. in high displeasure. The girls who had egged her on were maliciously pleased, but they admired her for her feat.

My entry was not at all sensational. I was merely a quiet mouse. By the third day I was in misery with homesickness. In the last four or five years I had been so closely attached to my mother, hardly ever leaving her, that it was not unnatural that the first time I really went away from home I should feel homesick. The curious thing was that I didn't know what was the matter with me. I just didn't want to eat. Every time I thought of my mother, tears came into my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I remember looking at a blouse which mother had madeextremely badlywith her own fingers, and the fact that it was was made badly, that it did not fit, that the tucks were uneven, made me cry all the more. I managed to conceal these feelings from the outside world, and only wept at night into my pillow. When my mother came to fetch me the following Sunday I greeted her as usual, but when we got back to the hotel I burst into tears and flung my arms round her neck. I am glad to say that at least I did not ask her to take me away; I knew quite well that I had to stop there. Besides, having seen mother I felt that I wasn't going to be homesick any more; I knew what was the matter with me. made badly, that it did not fit, that the tucks were uneven, made me cry all the more. I managed to conceal these feelings from the outside world, and only wept at night into my pillow. When my mother came to fetch me the following Sunday I greeted her as usual, but when we got back to the hotel I burst into tears and flung my arms round her neck. I am glad to say that at least I did not ask her to take me away; I knew quite well that I had to stop there. Besides, having seen mother I felt that I wasn't going to be homesick any more; I knew what was the matter with me.

I had no recurrence of homesickness. Indeed, I now enjoyed my days at Mademoiselle T.'s very much. There were French girls, American girls, and a good many Spanish and Italian girlsnot many English. I liked the company of the American girls especially. They had a breezy interesting way of talking and reminded me of my Cauterets friend, Marguerite Prestley.

I can't remember much about the work side of thingsI don't think it can have been very interesting. In history we seemed to be doing the period of the Fronde, which I knew pretty well from the reading of historical novels; and in geography I have been mystified for life by learning the provinces of France as they were in the time of the Fronde rather than as they are now. We also learnt the names of the months as they were during the French Revolution. My faults in French dictation horrified the mistress in charge so much she could hardly believe it. 'Vraiment, c'est impossible', she said. ' she said. 'Vous, qui parlez si bien le francais, vous avez fait vingt-cinq fautes en dictee, vingt-cinq!'

n.o.body else had made more than five. I was quite an interesting phenomenon by reason of my failure. I suppose it was natural enough under the circ.u.mstances, since I had known French entirely by talking it. I spoke it colloquially but, of course, entirely by ear, and the words ete ete and and etait etait sounded exactly the same to me: I spelt it one way or the other purely by chance, hoping I might have hit upon the right one. In some French subjects, literature, recitation, and so on, I was in the top cla.s.s; as regards French grammar and spelling I was practically in the bottom cla.s.s. It made it difficult for my poor teachersand I suppose shaming for meexcept that I can't feel that I really sounded exactly the same to me: I spelt it one way or the other purely by chance, hoping I might have hit upon the right one. In some French subjects, literature, recitation, and so on, I was in the top cla.s.s; as regards French grammar and spelling I was practically in the bottom cla.s.s. It made it difficult for my poor teachersand I suppose shaming for meexcept that I can't feel that I really cared. cared.

I was taught the piano by an elderly lady called Madame Legrand. She had been there for a great many years. Her favourite method of teaching the piano was to play a quatre mains a quatre mains with her pupil. She was insistent on pupils being taught to read music. I was not bad at reading music, but playing it with Madame Legrand was something of an ordeal. We both sat on the bench-like music seat and, as Madame Legrand was extremely well-covered, she took up the greater part of it and elbowed me away from the middle of the piano. She played with great vigour, using her elbows, which stuck out slightly a-kimbo, the result being that the unfortunate person who was playing the other two hands had to play with one elbow stuck tightly to her side. with her pupil. She was insistent on pupils being taught to read music. I was not bad at reading music, but playing it with Madame Legrand was something of an ordeal. We both sat on the bench-like music seat and, as Madame Legrand was extremely well-covered, she took up the greater part of it and elbowed me away from the middle of the piano. She played with great vigour, using her elbows, which stuck out slightly a-kimbo, the result being that the unfortunate person who was playing the other two hands had to play with one elbow stuck tightly to her side.

With a certain natural craftiness I managed nearly always to play the ba.s.s ba.s.s side of the duet. Madame Legrand was led into this the more easily because she so enjoyed her own performance, and naturally the treble gave her a far better chance of pouring her soul into the music. Sometimes for quite a long time, owing to the vigour of her playing and her absorbtion in it, she failed to realise that I had lost my place in the ba.s.s. Sooner or later I hesitated over a bar, got one behind, tried to catch up, not sure where I was, and then tried to play such notes as would accord with what Madame Legrand was playing. Since, however, we were reading music I could not always antic.i.p.ate this intelligently. Suddenly, as the hideous cacophany we were making dawned upon her, she would stop, raise her hands in the air and exclaim: ' side of the duet. Madame Legrand was led into this the more easily because she so enjoyed her own performance, and naturally the treble gave her a far better chance of pouring her soul into the music. Sometimes for quite a long time, owing to the vigour of her playing and her absorbtion in it, she failed to realise that I had lost my place in the ba.s.s. Sooner or later I hesitated over a bar, got one behind, tried to catch up, not sure where I was, and then tried to play such notes as would accord with what Madame Legrand was playing. Since, however, we were reading music I could not always antic.i.p.ate this intelligently. Suddenly, as the hideous cacophany we were making dawned upon her, she would stop, raise her hands in the air and exclaim: 'Mais qu'est-ce que vous jouez la, pet.i.te? Que c'est horrible!' I couldn't have agreed with her morehorrible it was. We would then start again at the beginning. Of course, if I was playing the treble my lack of coordination was noticed at once. However, as a whole, we got on well. Madame Legrand puffed and snorted a great deal the whole time she played. Her bosom rose and fell, groans sometimes came from her; it was alarming but fascinating. She also smelt rather high, which was not so fascinating. I couldn't have agreed with her morehorrible it was. We would then start again at the beginning. Of course, if I was playing the treble my lack of coordination was noticed at once. However, as a whole, we got on well. Madame Legrand puffed and snorted a great deal the whole time she played. Her bosom rose and fell, groans sometimes came from her; it was alarming but fascinating. She also smelt rather high, which was not so fascinating.

There was to be a concert at the end of the term, and I was scheduled to play two pieces, one the third movement from the Sonata Pathetique Sonata Pathetique of Beethoven, and the other a piece called of Beethoven, and the other a piece called Serenade d'Aragona, Serenade d'Aragona, or something like that. I took a scunner to the or something like that. I took a scunner to the Serenade d'Aragona Serenade d'Aragona straight away. I found extraordinary difficulty in playing itI don't know why; it was certainly much easier than the Beethoven. Though my playing of the Beethoven came on well, the straight away. I found extraordinary difficulty in playing itI don't know why; it was certainly much easier than the Beethoven. Though my playing of the Beethoven came on well, the Serenade d'Aragona Serenade d'Aragona continued to be a very poor performance. I practised it ardently, but I seemed to make myself even more nervous. I woke up at night, thinking I was playing, and all sorts of things would happen. The notes of the piano would stick, or I would find I was playing an organ instead of the piano, or I was late in arriving, or the concert had taken place the night before...It all seems so silly when one remembers it. continued to be a very poor performance. I practised it ardently, but I seemed to make myself even more nervous. I woke up at night, thinking I was playing, and all sorts of things would happen. The notes of the piano would stick, or I would find I was playing an organ instead of the piano, or I was late in arriving, or the concert had taken place the night before...It all seems so silly when one remembers it.

Two days before the concert I had such high fever that they sent for my mother. The doctor could find no cause for it. However, he gave it as his view that it would be much better if I did not play at the concert, and if I were removed from the school for two or three days until the concert was over. I cannot tell you of my thankfulness, though at the same time I had the feeling of somebody who has failed at something they had been determined to accomplish.

I remember now that at an arithmetic exam at Miss Guyer's school I had come out bottom, though I had been top of the cla.s.s all the week previously. Somehow, when I read the questions at the exam my mind shut up and I was unable to think. There are people who can pa.s.s exams, often high up, after being almost bottom in cla.s.s; there are people who can perform in public much better than they perform in private; and there are people who are just the opposite. I was one of the latter. It is obvious that I chose the right career. The most blessed thing about being an author is that you do it in private and in your own time. in your own time. It can worry you, bother you, give you a headache; you can go nearly mad trying to arrange your plot in the way it should go and you know it could go; It can worry you, bother you, give you a headache; you can go nearly mad trying to arrange your plot in the way it should go and you know it could go; but butyou do not have to stand up and make a fool of yourself in public.

I returned to the pensionnat pensionnat with great relief and in good spirits. Immediately I tried to see if I could now play the with great relief and in good spirits. Immediately I tried to see if I could now play the Serenade d'Aragona. Serenade d'Aragona. I certainly played it better than I had ever done before, but the performance was still poor. I went on learning the rest of the Beethoven sonata with Madame Legrand, who, though disappointed in me as a pupil who might have done her credit, was still kind and encouraging and said I had a proper sense of music. I certainly played it better than I had ever done before, but the performance was still poor. I went on learning the rest of the Beethoven sonata with Madame Legrand, who, though disappointed in me as a pupil who might have done her credit, was still kind and encouraging and said I had a proper sense of music.

The two winters and one summer that I spent in Paris were some of the happiest days I have ever known. All sorts of delightful things happened all the time. Some American friends of my grandfather whose daughter sang in Grand Opera lived there. I went to hear her as Marguerite in Faust. Faust. At the At the pensionnat, pensionnat, they did not take girls to hear they did not take girls to hear Faust Faustthe subject was not supposed to be 'convenable' for ' for 'les jeunes filles'. I think people tended to be rather optimistic over the easy corruption of I think people tended to be rather optimistic over the easy corruption of les jeunes filles; les jeunes filles; you would have to have far more knowledge than you would have to have far more knowledge than jeunes filles jeunes filles did in those days to know anything improper was going on at Marguerite's window. I never understood in Paris why Marguerite was suddenly in her prison. Had she, I wondered, stolen the jewellery? Certainly pregnancy and the death of the child never even occurred to me. did in those days to know anything improper was going on at Marguerite's window. I never understood in Paris why Marguerite was suddenly in her prison. Had she, I wondered, stolen the jewellery? Certainly pregnancy and the death of the child never even occurred to me.

We were taken mostly to the Opera Comique. Thais, Werther, Carmen, La Vie Boheme, Manon. Werther Thais, Werther, Carmen, La Vie Boheme, Manon. Werther was my favourite. At the Grand Opera House I heard was my favourite. At the Grand Opera House I heard Tannhauser Tannhauser as well as as well as Faust. Faust.

Mother took me to dressmakers, and I began to appreciate clothes for the first time. I had a pale grey crepe de Chine crepe de Chine semi-evening dress made, which filled me with joyI had never had anything so grown-up-looking before. It was sad that my bosom was still unco-operative, so that I had to have a lot of ruffles of semi-evening dress made, which filled me with joyI had never had anything so grown-up-looking before. It was sad that my bosom was still unco-operative, so that I had to have a lot of ruffles of crepe de Chine crepe de Chine hurriedly tucked into the bodice, but I was still hopeful that one day a couple of truly womanly bosoms, firm, round and large, would be mine. How lucky that vision into the future is spared to us. Otherwise I should have seen myself at thirty-five, with a round womanly bosom well-developed, but, alas, everybody else going about with chests as flat as boards, and if they hurriedly tucked into the bodice, but I was still hopeful that one day a couple of truly womanly bosoms, firm, round and large, would be mine. How lucky that vision into the future is spared to us. Otherwise I should have seen myself at thirty-five, with a round womanly bosom well-developed, but, alas, everybody else going about with chests as flat as boards, and if they were were so unfortunate as to have bosoms, tightening them out of existence. so unfortunate as to have bosoms, tightening them out of existence.

Through the introductions mother had brought, we went into French society. American girls were welcomed always to the Faubourg St. Germain and it was acceptable for the sons of the French aristocracy to marry rich Americans. Though I was far from rich, my father was known to have been American, and all Americans were supposed to have some money. It was a curious, decorous, old-world society. The Frenchmen I met were polite, very comme il faut comme il fautand nothing could have been duller from a girl's point of view. However, I learnt French phraseology of the politest kind. I also learnt dancing and deportment, with someone called, I think (though it seems improbable), Mr Was.h.i.+ngton Lob. Mr Was.h.i.+ngton Lob was the closest thing to Mr Turveydrop that I can imagine. I learnt the Was.h.i.+ngton Post, the Boston, and a few other things, and I also learnt the various usages of cosmopolitan society. 'Suppose now, you were about to sit down by an elderly married lady. How would you sit?' I looked at Mr Was.h.i.+ngton Lob with blank eyes. 'I shouldersit,' I said puzzled.

'Show me.' He had some gilt chairs there, and I sat down in a gilt chair, trying to hide my legs as much as possible underneath the chair.

'No, no, that is impossible. That will never do,' said Mr Was.h.i.+ngton Lob. 'You turn slightly sideways, that is enough, not more; and as you sit down you are leaning slightly to the right, so you bend your left knee slightly, so that it is almost like a little bow as you sit.' I had to practise this a good deal.

The only things I really hated were my drawing and painting lessons. Mother was adamant on that subject; she would not not let me off: 'Girls should be able to do water-colours.' let me off: 'Girls should be able to do water-colours.'

So very rebelliously, twice a week, I was called for by a suitable young woman (since girls did not go about alone in Paris) and taken by metro or bus to an atelier atelier somewhere near the flower-market. There I joined a cla.s.s of young ladies, painting violets in a gla.s.s of water, lilies in a jar, daffodils in a black vase. There would be terrific sighs as the lady in charge came round. ' somewhere near the flower-market. There I joined a cla.s.s of young ladies, painting violets in a gla.s.s of water, lilies in a jar, daffodils in a black vase. There would be terrific sighs as the lady in charge came round. 'Mais vous ne voyez rien,' she said to me. 'First you must start with the she said to me. 'First you must start with the shadows: shadows: do you not see? Here, and here, and do you not see? Here, and here, and here here there are shadows.' there are shadows.'

But I never saw the shadows; all I saw were some violets in a gla.s.s of water. Violets were mauveI could match the shade of mauve on my palette, and I would then paint the violets a flat mauve. I quite agree that the result did not look like a bunch of violets in a gla.s.s of water, but I did not see, and I don't think have ever seen, what does make shadows look like a bunch of violets in water. On some days, to ease my depression, I would draw the table legs or an odd chair in perspective, which cheered me up, but which did not go down at all well with my instructress.

Though I met many charming Frenchmen, strangely enough I did not fall in love with any of them. Instead I conceived a pa.s.sion for the reception clerk in the hotel, Monsieur Strie. He was tall and thin, rather like a tapeworm, with pale blond hair and a tendency to spots. I really cannot understand what I saw in him. I never had the courage to speak to him, though he occasionally said 'Bonjour, Mademoiselle' as I pa.s.sed through the hall. It was difficult to have fantasies about Monsieur Strie. I imagined myself sometimes nursing him through the plague in French Indo-China, but it took much effort to keep that vision going. As he finally gasped out his last breath he would murmur: 'Mademoiselle, I always adored you in the days at the hotel'which was all right as far as it went, but when I noticed Monsieur Strie writing industriously behind the desk the following day it seemed to me extremely unlikely that he would ever say such a thing, even on his deathbed. as I pa.s.sed through the hall. It was difficult to have fantasies about Monsieur Strie. I imagined myself sometimes nursing him through the plague in French Indo-China, but it took much effort to keep that vision going. As he finally gasped out his last breath he would murmur: 'Mademoiselle, I always adored you in the days at the hotel'which was all right as far as it went, but when I noticed Monsieur Strie writing industriously behind the desk the following day it seemed to me extremely unlikely that he would ever say such a thing, even on his deathbed.

We pa.s.sed the Easter holidays going on expeditions to Versailles, Fontainebleau, and various other places, and then, with her usual suddenness, mother announced that I should not be returning to Mademoiselle T.'s.

'I don't think much of that place,' she said. 'No interesting teaching. It's not what it was in Madge's time. I am going back to England, and I have arranged that you shall go to Miss Hogg's school at Auteuil, Les Marroniers.'

I can't remember feeling anything beyond mild surprise. I had enjoyed myself at Mademoiselle T.'s, but I didn't particularly want to go back there. In fact it seemed more interesting to go to a new place. I don't know whether it was stupidity on my part or amiabilityI like to think, of course, that it was the latterbut I was always prepared to like the next thing that came along.

So I went to Les Marroniers, which was a good school but extremely English. I enjoyed it, but found it dull. I had quite a good music teacher, but not as much fun as Madame Legrand had been. As everyone talked English all the time, in spite of the fact that it was strictly forbidden, n.o.body learned much French.

Outside activities were not encouraged, or indeed perhaps even allowed, at Les Marroniers, so at last I was to shake myself free of my detested painting and drawing lessons. The only thing I missed was pa.s.sing through the flower-market, which really had been heavenly. It was no surprise to me at the end of the summer holidays when my mother suddenly said to me at Ashfield that I was not going back to Les Marroniers. She had had a new idea for my education.

V

Grannie's doctor, Dr Burwood, had a sister-in-law who kept a small establishment for 'finis.h.i.+ng' girls in Paris. She only took twelve to fifteen girls, and they were all studying music or taking courses at the Conservatoire or the Sorbonne. How did I like that idea? my mother asked. As I have said, I welcomed new ideas; in fact my motto might have been established by then as 'Try anything once'. So in the autumn I went to Miss Dryden's establishment, just off the Arc de Triomphe in the Avenue du Bois.

Being at Miss Dryden's suited me down to the ground. For the first time I felt that what we were doing was really interesting. There were twelve of us. Miss Dryden herself was tall, rather fierce, with beautifully arranged white hair, an excellent figure, and a red nose, which she was in the habit of rubbing violently when she was angry. She had a dry, ironic form of conversation that was alarming but stimulating. a.s.sisting her was a French coadjutor, Madame Pet.i.t. Madame Pet.i.t was very French, temperamental, highly emotional, remarkably unfair, and we were all devoted to her, and not nearly so much in awe of her as we were of Miss Dryden.

It was, of course, much more like living in a family, but a serious att.i.tude was taken towards our studies. There was an emphasis on music, but we had plenty of interesting cla.s.ses of all kinds. We had people from the Comedie Francaise, who gave us talks on Moliere, Racine and Corneille, and singers from the Conservatoire, who sang the airs of Lully and Gluck. We had a dramatic cla.s.s where we all recited. Luckily we did not have so many 'dictees' here, so my spelling faults were not quite so noticeable, and since my spoken French was better than the others' I enjoyed myself thoroughly reciting the lines of Andromaque, Andromaque, feeling myself indeed that tragic heroine as I stood and declaimed: ' feeling myself indeed that tragic heroine as I stood and declaimed: 'Seigneur, toutes ces grandeurs ne me touchent plus guere'.

I think we all rather enjoyed ourselves at the drama cla.s.s. We were taken to the Comedie Francaise and saw the cla.s.sic dramas and several modern plays as well. I saw Sarah Bernhardt in what must have been one of the last roles of her career, as the golden pheasant in Rostand's Chantecler. Chantecler. She was old, lame, feeble, and her golden voice was cracked, but she was certainly a great actressshe held you with her impa.s.sioned emotion. Even more exciting than Sarah Bernhardt did I find Rejane. I saw her in a modern play, She was old, lame, feeble, and her golden voice was cracked, but she was certainly a great actressshe held you with her impa.s.sioned emotion. Even more exciting than Sarah Bernhardt did I find Rejane. I saw her in a modern play, La Course aux Flambeaux. La Course aux Flambeaux. She had a wonderful power of making you feel, behind a hard repressed manner, the existence of a tide of feeling and emotion which she would never allow to come out into the open. I can still hear now, if I sit quiet a minute or two with my eyes closed, her voice, and see her face in the last words of the play: ' She had a wonderful power of making you feel, behind a hard repressed manner, the existence of a tide of feeling and emotion which she would never allow to come out into the open. I can still hear now, if I sit quiet a minute or two with my eyes closed, her voice, and see her face in the last words of the play: 'Pour sauver ma fille, j'ai tue ma mere,' and the deep thrill this sent through one as the curtain came down. and the deep thrill this sent through one as the curtain came down.

It seems to me that teaching can only be satisfactory if it awakens some response in you. Mere information is no good, it gives you nothing more than you had before. To be talked to about plays by actresses, actresses, repeating words and speeches from them; to have real singers singing you repeating words and speeches from them; to have real singers singing you Bois Epais Bois Epais or an aria from Gluck's or an aria from Gluck's Orphee Orphee was to bring to life in you a pa.s.sionate love of the art you were hearing. It opened a new world to me, a world in which I have been able to live ever since. was to bring to life in you a pa.s.sionate love of the art you were hearing. It opened a new world to me, a world in which I have been able to live ever since.

My own serious study was music, of course, both singing and piano. I studied the piano with an Austrian, Charles Furster. He occasionally came to London and gave recitals. He was a good but frightening teacher. His method was to wander round the room as you played. He had the air of not listening, looked out of the window, smelt a flower, but all of a sudden, as you played a false note or phrased something badly, he would swing round with the alaerity of a pouncing tiger and cry out: 'Hein, qu'est-ce que vous jouez Ia, pet.i.te, hein? C'est atroce.' It was shattering to the nerves at first, but one got used to it. He was a pa.s.sionate addict of Chopin, so that I learnt mostly Chopin Etudes and Waltzes, the It was shattering to the nerves at first, but one got used to it. He was a pa.s.sionate addict of Chopin, so that I learnt mostly Chopin Etudes and Waltzes, the Fantaisie Impromptue, Fantaisie Impromptue, and one of the Ballades. I knew I was getting on well under his teaching, and it made me happy. I also learned the Sonatas of Beethoven, as well as several light, what he called 'drawing-room pieces', a Romance of Faure, the Barcarolle of Tchaikowski, and others. I practised with real a.s.siduity, usually about seven hours a day. I think a wild hope was springing up within meI don't know that I ever let it quite come into my consciousness, but it was there in the backgroundthat perhaps I could be a pianist, could play at concerts. It would be a long time and hard work, but I knew that I was improving rapidly. and one of the Ballades. I knew I was getting on well under his teaching, and it made me happy. I also learned the Sonatas of Beethoven, as well as several light, what he called 'drawing-room pieces', a Romance of Faure, the Barcarolle of Tchaikowski, and others. I practised with real a.s.siduity, usually about seven hours a day. I think a wild hope was springing up within meI don't know that I ever let it quite come into my consciousness, but it was there in the backgroundthat perhaps I could be a pianist, could play at concerts. It would be a long time and hard work, but I knew that I was improving rapidly.

My singing lessons had begun before this period. My teacher was a Monsieur Boue. He and Jean de Reszke were supposed at that time to be the two leading singing teachers of Paris. Jean de Reszke had been a famous tenor and Boue an operatic baritone. He lived in an apartment five flights up with no lift. I used to arrive at the fifth storey completely out of breath, as indeed was only natural. The apartments all looked so alike that you lost count of the storeys you had climbed, but you always knew when you were getting to Monsieur Boue's because of the wall-paper on the stairs. On the last turn, was an enormous grease mark which had a rough resemblance to the head of a cairn terrier.

When I arrived I would be immediately greeted with reproaches. What did I mean by breathing fast like that? Why did I have to be out of breath? Someone my age should spring upstairs, without panting. Breathing was everything. 'Breathing is the whole of singing, you should know that by now.' He would then reach for his tape measure, which was always at hand. This he would put round my diaphragm and then urge me to breathe in, hold it, and then breathe out as completely as possible. He would calculate the difference between the two measurements, nodding his head occasionally and saying: 'C'est bien, c'est bien, it advances. You have a good chest, an excellent chest. You have splendid expansion, and what is more, I will tell you something, you will never have the consumption. That is a sad thing for some singers; they get the consumption, but with you no. As long as you practise your breathing, all will be well with you. You like beefsteak?' I said yes, I was extremely fond of beefsteak. 'That is good too; that is the best food for a singer. You cannot eat large meals, or eat often, but I say to my opera singers you will have at three o'clock in the afternoon a large steak and a gla.s.s of stout; after that it advances. You have a good chest, an excellent chest. You have splendid expansion, and what is more, I will tell you something, you will never have the consumption. That is a sad thing for some singers; they get the consumption, but with you no. As long as you practise your breathing, all will be well with you. You like beefsteak?' I said yes, I was extremely fond of beefsteak. 'That is good too; that is the best food for a singer. You cannot eat large meals, or eat often, but I say to my opera singers you will have at three o'clock in the afternoon a large steak and a gla.s.s of stout; after that nothing nothing till you sing at nine o'clock.' till you sing at nine o'clock.'

We then proceeded to the singing lesson proper. The voix de tete voix de tete, he said, was very good, it was perfect, properly produced and natural, and my chest notes were not too bad; but the medium, medium, the the medium medium was extremely weak. So to begin with I was to sing mezzo-soprano songs to develop was extremely weak. So to begin with I was to sing mezzo-soprano songs to develop le medium. le medium. At intervals he would get exasperated with what he called my English face. 'English faces,' he said, 'have no expression! They are not mobile. The skin round the mouth, it does not move; and the voice, the words, everything, they come from the back of the throat. That is very bad. The French language has got to come from the At intervals he would get exasperated with what he called my English face. 'English faces,' he said, 'have no expression! They are not mobile. The skin round the mouth, it does not move; and the voice, the words, everything, they come from the back of the throat. That is very bad. The French language has got to come from the palate, palate, from the roof of the mouth. The roof of the mouth, the bridge of the nose, from the roof of the mouth. The roof of the mouth, the bridge of the nose, that that is where the voice of the is where the voice of the medium medium comes from. You speak French very well, very fluently, though it is unfortunate you have not the English accent but the accent of the Midi. Why do you have the accent of the Midi?' comes from. You speak French very well, very fluently, though it is unfortunate you have not the English accent but the accent of the Midi. Why do you have the accent of the Midi?'

I thought for a minute, and then I said perhaps because I had learnt French from a French maid who had come from Pau.

'Ah, that explains it,' he said. 'Yes, that is it. It is the accent meridional meridional that you have. As I say, you speak French fluently, but you speak it as though it were English because you speak it from the back of your throat. You must move your lips. Keep your teeth close together, but move your that you have. As I say, you speak French fluently, but you speak it as though it were English because you speak it from the back of your throat. You must move your lips. Keep your teeth close together, but move your lips. lips. Ah, I know what we shall do.' Ah, I know what we shall do.'

He would then tell me to stick a pencil in the corner of my mouth and articulate as well as possible while I was singing, without letting the pencil drop out. It was extraordinarily difficult at first, but in the end I managed it. My teeth clamped the pencil and my lips then had to move a great deal to make the words come out at all.

Boue's fury was great one day when I brought in the air from Samson et Delilah, 'Mon coeur s'ouvre a to voix', Samson et Delilah, 'Mon coeur s'ouvre a to voix', and asked him if I could possibly learn it, as I had enjoyed the opera so much. and asked him if I could possibly learn it, as I had enjoyed the opera so much.

'But what is this you have here?' he said, looking at the piece of music. What is this? What key key is it in? It is in a transposed key.' is it in? It is in a transposed key.'

I said I had bought the version for a soprano voice.

He shouted with rage: 'But Delilah is not a soprano part. It is a mezzo mezzo part. Do you not know that if you sing an air from an opera, it must always be sung in the key it was written in? You cannot transpose for a soprano voice what has been written for a mezzo voiceit puts the whole emphasis wrong. Take it away. If you bring it in the proper mezzo key, yes, you shall learn it.' part. Do you not know that if you sing an air from an opera, it must always be sung in the key it was written in? You cannot transpose for a soprano voice what has been written for a mezzo voiceit puts the whole emphasis wrong. Take it away. If you bring it in the proper mezzo key, yes, you shall learn it.'

I never dared sing a transposed song again.

I learned large quant.i.ties of French songs, and a lovely Ave Maria of Cherubini's. We debated for some time how I was to p.r.o.nounce the Latin of that. 'The English p.r.o.nounce Latin in the Italian way, the French have their own way of p.r.o.nouncing Latin. I think, since you are English, you had better sing it in the Italian p.r.o.nunciation.'

I also sang a good many of Schubert's songs in German. In spite of not knowing German this was not too difficult; and I sang songs in Italian, of course. On the whole I was not allowed to be too ambitious, but after about six months or so of study I was allowed to sing the famous aria from La Boheme 'Te Gelida Manina' La Boheme 'Te Gelida Manina' and also the aria from and also the aria from Tosca, 'Vissi d'arte'. Tosca, 'Vissi d'arte'.

It was indeed a happy time. Sometimes, after a visit to the Louvre, we were taken to have tea at Rumpelmayer's. There could be no delight in life for a greedy girl like tea at Rumpelmayer's. My favourites were those glorious cakes with cream and marron piping of a sickliness which was incomparable.

We were taken of course, for walks in the Boisa very fascinating place. One day, I remember, when we were going in a neat crocodile, two by two, along a deeply wooded path, a man came out from behind some treesa cla.s.sic case of indecent exposure. We must all have seen him, I think, but we all behaved in a decorous manner as if we had noticed nothing unusualpossibly we may have been not quite sure of what it was we had had seen. Miss Dryden, herself, who was in charge of us that day, sailed along with the iron-clad belligerence of a battles.h.i.+p. We followed her. I suppose the man, whose upper half was very correct, with black hair and pointed beard and a very smart cravat and tie, must have spent his day wandering about the darker places of the Bois so as to surprise decorous young ladies from seen. Miss Dryden, herself, who was in charge of us that day, sailed along with the iron-clad belligerence of a battles.h.i.+p. We followed her. I suppose the man, whose upper half was very correct, with black hair and pointed beard and a very smart cravat and tie, must have spent his day wandering about the darker places of the Bois so as to surprise decorous young ladies from pensionnats, pensionnats, walking in a crocodile, wis.h.i.+ng perhaps to add to their knowledge of life in Paris. I may add that, as far as I know, not one of us mentioned this incident to any of the other girls; there was not so much as a giggle. We were all splendidly modest in those days. walking in a crocodile, wis.h.i.+ng perhaps to add to their knowledge of life in Paris. I may add that, as far as I know, not one of us mentioned this incident to any of the other girls; there was not so much as a giggle. We were all splendidly modest in those days.

We had occasional parties at Miss Dryden's, and on one occasion a former pupil of hers, an American woman now married to a French Vicomte, arrived with her son, Rudy. Rudy might have been a French baron, but in appearance he was a thoroughly American college boy. He must have blenched a little at the sight of twelve nubile girls looking at him with interest, approbation, and possible romance in their eyes.

'I've got my work cut out shaking hands round here,' he declared in a cheerful voice. We all met Rudy again the next day at the Palais de Glace, where some of us were skating and some learning to skate. Rudy was again determinedly gallant, anxious not to let his mother down. He skated several circuits of the rink with those of us who were able to stand up. I, as so often in these matters, was unlucky. I had only just begun to learn, and on my first afternoon had succeeded in throwing the skating instructor. This, I may say, had made him extremely angry. He had been held up to the ridicule of his colleagues. He prided himself on being able to hold up anyone, anyone, even the stoutest American lady, and to be floored by a tall thin girl must have infuriated him. He took me out for my turn as seldom as possible after this. Anyway I didn't think I would risk being pioneered by Rudy round the rinkI should probably throw even the stoutest American lady, and to be floored by a tall thin girl must have infuriated him. He took me out for my turn as seldom as possible after this. Anyway I didn't think I would risk being pioneered by Rudy round the rinkI should probably throw him him too, and then too, and then he he would have been annoyed. would have been annoyed.

Something happened to me at the sight of Rudy. We only saw him on those few occasions, but they marked a point of transition. From that moment forward I stepped out of the territory of hero-wors.h.i.+p. All the romantic love I had felt for people real and unrealpeople in books, people in the public eye, actual people who came to the housefinished at that moment. I no longer had the capacity for selfless love or the wish to sacrifice myself on their behalf. From that day I began to think of young men only as young menexciting creatures whom I would enjoy meeting, and among whom, some day, I should find my husband (Mr Right in fact). I did not fall in love with Rudyperhaps I might have, if I had met him oftenbut I did suddenly feel different. different. I had become one of the world of females on the prowl! From that moment, the image of the Bishop of London, who had been my last object of hero-wors.h.i.+p, faded from my mind. I wanted to meet I had become one of the world of females on the prowl! From that moment, the image of the Bishop of London, who had been my last object of hero-wors.h.i.+p, faded from my mind. I wanted to meet real real young men, young men, lots lots of real young menin fact there couldn't be too many of them. of real young menin fact there couldn't be too many of them.

I am hazy now as to how long I remained at Miss Dryden'sa year, perhaps eighteen months, I do not think as long as two years. My volatile mother did not propose any further changes of educational plan; perhaps she did not hear of anything that excited her. But I think really that she had an intuitive knowledge that I had found what satisfied me. I was learning things that mattered, that built themselves into me as part of an interest in life.

One dream of mine faded before I left Paris. Miss Dryden was expecting an old pupil of hers, the Countess of Limerick, who herself was a very fine pianist, a pupil of Charles Furster's. Usually the two or three girls who were studying the piano would give an informal concert on these occasions. I was one of them. The result was catastrophic. I was nervous beforehand, but not unusually so, no more than would be natural, but as soon as I sat down at the piano inefficiency overwhelmed me like a tide. I played wrong notes, my tempo went, my phrasing was amateur and ham-handedI was just a mess.

n.o.body could have been kinder than Lady Limerick. She talked to me later and said she had realised how nervous I had been, and that one did get these fits of what really qualified as stage-fright. Perhaps I would get over them later when I became more experienced in playing before an audience. I was grateful for those kind words, but I knew myself that there was more to it than that.

I continued to study, but before I finally went home I asked Charles Furster frankly whether he thought that by hard work and application I could one day be a professional pianist. He, too, was kind, but he told me no lies. He said that he thought I had not the temperament to play in public, and I knew he was right. I was grateful to him for telling me the truth. I was miserable about it for a while, but I tried hard not to dwell on it more than I could help.

If the thing you want beyond anything cannot be, it is much better to recognise it and go forward, instead of dwelling on one's regrets and hopes. Such a rebuff coming early helped me for the future; it taught me that I had not the kind of temperament for exhibition of any kind. I can describe what it seemed like by saying that I could not control my physical physical reaction. reaction.

PART IV

FLIRTING, COURTING, BANNS UP, MARRIAGE

(Popular Victorian Game)

I

Soon after I came home from Paris, my mother had a serious illness. In the usual manner of doctors, it was diagnosed as appendicitis, paratyphoid, gallstones and a few more things. Several times she had been on the brink of being carted off to the operating-table. Treatment did not improve her conditionshe was constantly having relapses, and various different operations were mooted. My mother was an amateur doctor herself. When her brother Ernest had been working as a medical student, she had helped him with mounting enthusiasm. She would have made a far better doctor than he would. In the end he had to give up the idea owing to the fact that he could not stand the sight of blood. By that time mother was practically as fully trained as he wasand would not have minded blood, wounds, or any other physical offences to the eye. I noticed that, whenever we went to the dentist together, my mother ignored the Queen Queen or or The Tatler The Tatler and immediately seized and immediately seized The Lancet The Lancet or the or the British Medical journal British Medical journal if it was anywhere about on the table. if it was anywhere about on the table.

Finally losing patience with her medical attendants, she said, 'I don't think they knowI knowI don't know myself. I think the great thing is to get out of the doctors' hands.' don't know myself. I think the great thing is to get out of the doctors' hands.'

She succeeded in finding yet another doctor who was what you might call the biddable kind, and was soon able to announce that he had advised suns.h.i.+ne and a warm dry climate. 'We will go to Egypt for the winter,' she informed me.

Once more we set about letting the house. It was fortunate that the expenses of travelling must have been fairly low in those days, and that the cost of living abroad seemed easily covered by the high rent asked for Ashfield. Torquay was of course at that period still a winter winter resort. n.o.body went there during the summer, and people who lived there always went away then to avoid 'the terrible heat'. (I can't imagine what this terrible heat could be: nowadays I always find South Devon extremely cold in the summer.) Usually they went up to the moor and took houses there. Father and mother did that once, but they found it so hot on the moor that father hired a dog-cart and drove back into Torquay to sit in his own garden practically every afternoon. Anyway, Torquay was then the Riviera of England, and people paid large rents for furnished villas there, during quite a gay winter season with concerts in the afternoons, lectures, occasional dances, and a great deal of other social activity. resort. n.o.body went there during the summer, and people who lived there always went away then to avoid 'the terrible heat'. (I can't imagine what this terrible heat could be: nowadays I always find South Devon extremely cold in the summer.) Usually they went up to the moor and took houses there. Father and mother did that once, but they found it so hot on the moor that father hired a dog-cart and drove back into Torquay to sit in his own garden practically every afternoon. Anyway, Torquay was then the Riviera of England, and people paid large rents for furnished villas there, during quite a gay winter season with concerts in the afternoons, lectures, occasional dances, and a great deal of other social activity.

I was now ready to 'come out'. My hair was 'up', which at that period meant done in the Grecian style, with large knots of curls high up on the back of the head and a kind of fillet round it. It was really a becoming style, particularly suited to evening dress. My hair was very longI could sit on it easily. This for some reason was considered something to be proud of in a woman, though what it actually meant meant was that your hair was completely unmanageable and was always coming down. To counter-act this, hairdressers created what was called a was that your hair was completely unmanageable and was always coming down. To counter-act this, hairdressers created what was called a postiche postichea large false knot of curls, with your own hair pinned away as tight to your head as possible, and the postiche postiche pinned to that. pinned to that.

'Coming-out' was a thing of great importance in a girl's life. If you were well off, your mother gave a dance for you. You were supposed to go for a season in London. Of course the season was by no means the commercial and highly organised racket it has become in the last twenty or thirty years. The people you asked to your dance then, and the people to whose dances you went, were your personal friends. There was always a slight difficulty in sc.r.a.ping up enough men; but the dances were on the whole informal affairs, or else there were charity b.a.l.l.s, to which you took a large party.

Of course, there could be nothing like that in my life. Madge had had her coming-out in New York and been to parties and dances there, but father had not been able to afford a London season for her, and there was certainly no question of my my having one now. But my mother was anxious that I should have what was considered a young girl's birthright, that is to say that she should emerge like a b.u.t.terfly from a chrysalis, from a schoolgirl to a young lady of the world, meeting other girls and plenty of young men, and, to put it plainly, be given her chance of finding a suitable mate. having one now. But my mother was anxious that I should have what was considered a young girl's birthright, that is to say that she should emerge like a b.u.t.terfly from a chrysalis, from a schoolgirl to a young lady of the world, meeting other girls and plenty of young men, and, to put it plainly, be given her chance of finding a suitable mate.

Everyone made a point of being kind to young girls. They asked them to house-parties, and they arranged pleasant theatre evenings for them. You could rely on all your friends to rally round. There was nothing approaching the French system of s.h.i.+elding daughters and permitting them to meet only a selected few partis, partis, who would all make suitable husbands, who had committed their follies and sown their young men's wild oats, and who had sufficient money or property to keep a wife. This system was, I think, a good one; it resulted, certainly, in a high percentage of happy marriages. The English belief that young French girls were forced to marry rich old men was quite untrue. A French girl could make her choice, but it was definitely a limited choice. The rackety, wild-living young man, the charming who would all make suitable husbands, who had committed their follies and sown their young men's wild oats, and who had sufficient money or property to keep a wife. This system was, I think, a good one; it resulted, certainly, in a high percentage of happy marriages. The English belief that young French girls were forced to marry rich old men was quite untrue. A French girl could make her choice, but it was definitely a limited choice. The rackety, wild-living young man, the charming mauvais sujet mauvais sujet whom she would doubtless have preferred, was never allowed to enter her orbit. whom she would doubtless have preferred, was never allowed to enter her orbit.

In England that was not so. Girls went out to dances and met all kinds of young men. Their mothers were there, too, sitting wearily as chaperones, but mothers were fairly helpless. Of course, people were reasonably careful about the young men with whom they allowed their daughters to a.s.sociate, but there was still a wide field of choice, and girls were notorious for preferring undesirable young men, and even going so far as to get engaged to them or having what was termed an 'understanding'. 'Having an understanding' was a really useful term; by it parents avoided the friction of bad feeling over refusing to accept their daughter's choice. 'You are very young still, dear, and I am sure Hugh is quite charming, but he also is young and has not established himself yet. I see no reason why you should not have an understanding understanding and should meet occasionally, but no letters and and should meet occasionally, but no letters and no no formal engagement.' They then worked behind the scenes to try to produce a suitable young man so that he might distract the girl's mind from the first one. This often happened. Direct opposition would, of course, have made the girl cling frantically to her first choice, but having it authorised took away some of the glamour, and as most girls are capable of being sensible they quite often changed their minds. formal engagement.' They then worked behind the scenes to try to produce a suitable young man so that he might distract the girl's mind from the first one. This often happened. Direct opposition would, of course, have made the girl cling frantically to her first choice, but having it authorised took away some of the glamour, and as most girls are capable of being sensible they quite often changed their minds.

Owing to the fact that we were badly off, my mother saw that it was going to be difficult for me to enter society on the usual terms. Her choice of Cairo as a convalescent centre for herself was, I think, made mainly on my behalf, and was a good one. I was a shy girl, not brilliant socially; if I could be familiarized with dancing, talking to young men, and all the rest of it, as an everyday thing, it would be the best way of giving me some worth-while experience.

Cairo, from the point of view of a girl, was a dream of delight. We spent three months there, and I went to five dances every week. They were given in each of the big hotels in turn. There were three or four regiments stationed in Cairo; there was polo every day; and at the cost of living in a moderately expensive hotel all this was at your disposal. A good many people went out there for the winter, and many of them were mothers and daughters. I was shy at first, and remained shy in many ways, but I was pa.s.sionately fond of dancing and I danced well. Also I liked young men, and I soon found they liked me, so everything went well. I was just seventeenCairo as Cairo meant nothing to megirls between eighteen and twenty-one seldom thought of anything but young men, and very right and proper, too!

The art of flirtation is lost nowadays, but then it was in full swing, and was an approximation, I think, to what the old troubadours called 'le pays du tendre'. It is a good introduction to life: the half-sentimental-half-romantic attachment that grows up between what I think of now in my advanced age as 'girls and boys'. It teaches them something of life and of each other without having to pay too violent or disillusioning a price. I certainly don't remember any illegitimate babies among my friends or their families. No, I am wrong. It was not a pretty story: a girl whom we knew went to spend her holidays with a schoolfriend, and was seduced by the schoolfriend's father, an elderly man with a nasty reputation.

s.e.xual attachments would have been difficult to enter into because young men had a high opinion of young girls, and adverse public opinion would have affected them as well as the girls. Men had their their s.e.xual fun with married women, usually a good deal older than themselves, or else with 'little friends' in London, about whom no one was supposed to know. I do remember one incident when I was staying in a house-party in Ireland later. There were two or three other girls and young men, soldiers mostly, in the house, and one of the soldiers left abruptly one morning, saying he had had a telegram from England. This was patently untrue. n.o.body knew the cause, but he had confided in a much older girl, whom he knew well and whom he considered able to appreciate his dilemma. Apparently he had been asked to accompany one of the girls to a dance some little distance away to which the others had not been invited. He duly drove her there, but on the way the girl suggested that they should stop at a hotel and engage a room. 'We shall arrive at the dance a bit late,' she said, 'but n.o.body notices, I findI've often done it.' The young man was so horrified that, having refused the suggestion he felt it quite impossible to meet her again the next day. Hence his abrupt departure. s.e.xual fun with married women, usually a good deal older than themselves, or else with 'little friends' in London, about whom no one was supposed to know. I do remember one incident when I was staying in a house-party in Ireland later. There were two or three other girls and young men, soldiers mostly, in the house, and one of the soldiers left abruptly one morning, saying he had had a telegram from England. This was patently untrue. n.o.body knew the cause, but he had confided in a much older girl, whom he knew well and whom he considered able to appreciate his dilemma. Apparently he had been asked to accompany one of the girls to a dance some little distance away to which the others had not been invited. He duly drove her there, but on the way the girl suggested that they should stop at a hotel and engage a room. 'We shall arrive at the dance a bit late,' she said, 'but n.o.body notices, I findI've often done it.' The young man was so horrified that, having refused the suggestion he felt it quite impossible to meet her again the next day. Hence his abrupt departure.

'I could hardly believe my earsshe seemed such a nicely brought up girl, quite young, nice parents, and everything. Just the sort of girl one would feel one would want to marry.'

Those were still great days for the purity of young girls. I do not think we felt in the least repressed because of it. Romantic friends.h.i.+ps, tinged certainly with s.e.x or the possibility of s.e.x, satisfied us completely. Courts.h.i.+p is, after all, a recognised stage in all animals. The male struts and courts, the female pretends not to notice anything, but is secretly gratified. You know it is not yet the real thing, but it is a kind of apprentices.h.i.+p. The troubadours were quite right when they made their songs about the pays du tendre. pays du tendre. I can re-read I can re-read Auca.s.sin and Nicolette Auca.s.sin and Nicolette always, for its charm, its naturalness and its sincerity. Never again, after your youth, do you have that particular feeling: the excitement of friends.h.i.+p with a man; that sense of being in affinity, of liking the same things, of the other one saying what always, for its charm, its naturalness and its sincerity. Never again, after your youth, do you have that particular feeling: the excitement of friends.h.i.+p with a man; that sense of being in affinity, of liking the same things, of the other one saying what you you have just been thinking. A great deal of it is illusion, of course, but it is a wonderful illusion, and I think it ought to have its part in every woman's life. You can smile at yourself later, saying, 'I was really rather a young fool.' have just been thinking. A great deal of it is illusion, of course, but it is a wonderful illusion, and I think it ought to have its part in every woman's life. You can smile at yourself later, saying, 'I was really rather a young fool.'

However, in Cairo I didn't even get as far as falling slightly in love. I had too much to do. There was so much going on, and so many attractive, personable young men. The ones that did stir my heart were men of about forty, who kindly danced with the child now and again, and teased me as a pretty young thing, but that was all. Society decreed that you should not dance more than two dances on your programme with the same man in an evening. It was possible, occasionally, to stretch this to three, but the sharp eyes of the chaperones were then upon you.

One's first evening dresses, of course, were a great joy. I had one of pale green chiffon with little lace frills, and a white silk one, rather plainly made, and a rather gorgeous one of deep turquoise blue taffeta, the material for which Grannie had unearthed from one of her secret remnant chests. It was a magnificent piece of stuff, but alas, having been in storage for so many years, it was unable to stand the Egyptian climate, and one evening in the course of a dance it split up the skirt, down the sleeves and round the neck, and I had to retire hurriedly to the Ladies' Cloakroom.

Next day we went to one of the Levantine dressmakers of Cairo. They were very expensive: my own dresses, bought in England, had been cheap. Still, I did get a lovely dress; it was a shot pale pink satin, and had a bunch of pink rose-buds on one shoulder. What I I wanted, of course, was a black evening dress; all girls wanted a black evening dress to make them look mature. All their mothers refused to let them have them. wanted, of course, was a black evening dress; all girls wanted a black evening dress to make them look mature. All their mothers refused to let them have them.

A young Cornishman, called Trelawny, and a friend of his, both in the 60th Rifles, were my chief partners. One of the older men, a Captain Craik, who was engaged to a nice American girl, brought me back to my mother after a dance one night and said, 'Here's your daughter. She has learnt to dance. In fact she dances beautifully. You had better try to teach her to talk now.' It was a justified reproach. I had still, alas, no conversation.

I was good-looking. My family, of course, laugh uproariously whenever I say that I was a lovely girl. My daughter and her friends, particularly, say: 'But, Mother, you couldn't couldn't have been. Look at those awful old photographs!' It is true that some of the photographs of those days are pretty terrible, but that, I think, is due to the clothes, which are not yet quite old enough to have become have been. Look at those awful old photographs!' It is true that some of the photographs of those days are pretty terrible, but that, I think, is due to the clothes, which are not yet quite old enough to have become period. period. Certainly at that time we were wearing monstrous hats, practically a yard across, of straw, ribbon, flowers, and large veils. Studio portraits were often taken in hats like this, sometimes tied with a ribbon under the chin; or sometimes you were shown with a much-frizzled head of hair, holding an enormous bunch of roses like a telephone receiver up to your ear. Looking at my early photographs, one, taken before I came out, with two long pigtails, sitting, for G.o.d knows what reason, at a spinning-wheel, is quite attractive. As one young man said to me once, 'I like the Gretchen one, very much.' I suppose I did look rather like Marguerite in Certainly at that time we were wearing monstrous hats, practically a yard across, of straw, ribbon, flowers, and large veils. Studio portraits were often taken in hats like this, sometimes tied with a ribbon under the chin; or sometimes you were shown with a much-frizzled head of hair, holding an enormous bunch of roses like a telephone receiver up to your ear. Looking at my early photographs, one, taken before I came out, with two long pigtails, sitting, for G.o.d knows what reason, at a spinning-wheel, is quite attractive. As one young man said to me once,