Emilie De Coulanges

‘I am young, I am in good health,’ said Emilie de Coulanges; ‘I am not to be pitied. But my poor mamma, who has been used all her life to such luxuries! And now to have only her Emilie to wait upon her! Her Emilie, who is but an awkward femme de chambre! ¹ But she will improve, it must be hoped; and as to the rest, things, which are now always changing, and which cannot change for the worse, must soon infallibly change for the better — and mamma will certainly recover all her property one of these days. In the mean time (if mamma is tolerably well), we shall be perfectly happy in England — that charming country, which, perhaps, we should never have seen but for this terrible revolution! — Here we shall assuredly find friends. The English are such good people! — Cold, indeed, at first — that’s their misfortune: but then the English coldness is of manner, not of heart. Time immemorial, they have been famous for making the best friends in the world; and even to us, who are their natural enemies, they are generous in our distress. I have heard innumerable instances of their hospitality to our emigrants; and mamma will certainly not be the first exception. At her Hotel de Coulanges, / she always received the English with distinguished attention; and though our hotel, ² with half Paris, has changed its name since those days, the English have too good memories to forget it, I am sure.’