It has not been a peaceful day. Early this morning Mlle was invited to a closed meeting -- I shall not name the other attendees, of course, only that I was not among them. At the end of the meeting she emerged looking most upset. It seems that she is not, after all, going to be the new CFO.

Now two things: Mlle does not do anything "early" -- early is 11 am or later, and only after the second cup of cafe' au lait is she ready to take on the world. Therefore, an important meeting at most people's breakfast-time is not the best situation for her. Second, I did not feel that the job was the right one for her. As I noted last week, she has trouble with her own checkbook to the extent that she no longer carries it about with her. She is somewhat confused by large numbers, and thinks everything should cost what it did in the mid-1980's.

However, nothing excuses what transpired at the meeting. As I understand, Mlle made it clear that her first action upon assuming the role of CFO would be to rescind certain raises which have been recently granted. "It is the only right thing to do, mes amis, the only right thing. You should give them back without being asked." One can only imagine the fervor of these remarks!

You will be amazed at what happened next. There was laughter, loud, raucous, rolling laughter. Mlle. was literally laughed out of the room. She stood up, threw the end of her boa across her shoulder and exclaimed, "You will rue the day! Your sun is setting! You will be turned away from your so pathetique little offices and lose your so pathetique little titles, and you will long for a friendly word and there will be none! None!! You have shown your true selves" and more along those lines. At any rate, she came out of the meeting with hair flying and eyes ablaze. She was quite, quite awake, without ever having the second cup. I have never seen anything quite like it.

"I shall go to Texas myself" she told me in the car. I took care to drive, rest assured! I do hope that is an empty threat -- the thought of packing the shoe closet alone gives one a most ferocious headache. I spent part of the day helping the housekeeper sweep up shattered champagne glasses and urging Mlle. to lie down. She did, eventually, with a cold cloth upon her forehead and Dervish by her feet. I'm afraid Dominique spent the day under the bed -- he's never seen Mlle in such high dudgeon before. Everytime he put his nose out from beneath the bedskirt, another champagne glass went sailing into the hearth, so he elected the better part of valor and took a nap where he was.

Friends, I'm afraid Mlle is planning to cut all ties with USM under the present regime, including giving up her post at D'Lo. Frankly that hasn't worked well anyway, there being serious disagreement between Mlle and Mrs. W.J. Johnson over the amount of pink appropriate to classroom decor. I'm not sure how distraught Mrs. Johnson will be, to tell the truth. Mlle. is not what one would call a "team player." Be assured, however, that no matter what happens, Mlle. will always be a friend to true scholars and honorable persons.

I believe things will settle down through the evening, Mlle. being at her best in the later hours. Do please keep a kind thought for me, that any move to Texas (or to anywhere) be only a passing fancy. You have no idea, you really have no idea.

Good evening to you all.

Sincerely,

Hermione Angleterre, Social Secretary to Monique de Guerre

PS for those new to our board, Dominique is Mlle. de Guerre's large gentleman cat, who has an extremely peaceful disposition, to put it kindly. Dervish, of course, is the trained attack poodle and Mlle.'s constant companion. Alert readers will remember that Mlle. frequently publishes in the Journal of the American Attack Poodle, and has been a mainstay of that publication since its inception.