Part 19 (1/2)

I submitted to be led away; I did whatever anyone wanted that night. I saw a tall, yellow woman who resembled a piece of old tapestry, and who looked as if she had never laughed since she came into the world. I made haste to bow and to run away. It seemed to me that one must necessarily catch the _spleen_ in Madame de Beausire's company.

The supper hour arrived; at last the ball was drawing to a close; and although I was not exactly bored, still I should have been very glad to be at home with my wife.

The ladies were conducted to their seats. I looked after the comfort of everybody; I saw that the tables, large and small alike, were properly waited upon.

”Pray rest a moment and eat something,” people said to me.

Much I thought about eating! I preferred to hurry the supper of that mult.i.tude.

I found Giraud and his two children sitting at a small table with three young men. Giraud had a currant cake on his knees, and he had slipped a bowl of jelly under the table, not choosing to pa.s.s it, for fear it would not come back to him. I called for fish, chickens, and pate; I covered his children's plates with cakes. Giraud was in ecstasy; he shook my hand, murmuring:

”This is one of the finest weddings I have ever seen, and G.o.d knows that I have seen a tremendous number of them!”

Madame Giraud, who had been obliged to leave the large table when the other ladies rose, walked behind her husband and children at that moment, with an enormous reticule hanging on her arm. While pretending to pa.s.s the gentlemen what they wanted, I saw that she kept opening the bag and thrusting cakes, biscuit, and even pie crust into it. Giraud, seeing that I had noticed his wife's manuvring, said to her angrily, as she was trying to force some macaroons into her bag:

”What on earth are you doing, Madame Giraud? What sort of manners are these? You are putting macaroons into your bag!”

”Just for Azor, my dear, the poor beast. He is so fond of macaroons, you know. They would be wasted, so what harm does it do? I want poor Azor to have a little of the pleasure of this party.”

”You know very well that I don't like such things, Madame Giraud.”

I appeased Giraud, who pretended to be very angry; then I walked away, in order to leave his wife at full liberty; and she ended by making a perfect balloon of her bag.

Meanwhile, the tables were gradually deserted; many people returned to the ballroom, but many others entered their carriages, and I considered that the latter acted wisely.

The ball was more agreeable perhaps, because it was more comfortable to dance. Eugenie continued to be invited, and I must needs content myself with dancing opposite her; but there were figures in which we took each other's hands, and then how many things we said by a soft pressure! it seems that the heart, that the very soul, pa.s.ses into the beloved hand which presses ours lovingly.

The ranks became thinner. My mother had gone, and Madame Dumeillan was only awaiting our departure to follow her example. It was five o'clock.

The daylight was beginning to show through the windows, and to lessen the brilliancy of the candles. The number of ladies diminished every moment. I went to Eugenie's side.

”I am tired of dancing,” she said, ”and yet I am afraid to refuse.”

”Why, it seems to me that we might venture to go now.”

She lowered her eyes and made no answer. I concluded that I had done enough for others and that I might think of myself at last. I took my wife's hand and led her from the room; Madame Dumeillan followed us; we entered a carriage and drove away. We had to take Madame Dumeillan home first. It was a short distance, but it seemed very long to me. The nearer one's happiness approaches, the more intense one's impatience becomes.

We spoke but little in the mother's presence. At last we reached her house, and I alighted. Madame Dumeillan embraced her daughter; it seemed to me that their embrace was interminable. Selfish creatures that we are! it did not occur to me that that was the last embrace in which a mother would hold her daughter, still a virgin, in her arms, and that I should have all the rest of my life to enjoy my privileges as a husband.

Madame Dumeillan entered her house. I returned to the carriage, and we drove on. At last I was alone with Eugenie, with my wife. I believe that that was the sweetest moment that I have ever known; it had seemed to me that it would never arrive. I put my arms about Eugenie; she wept when she embraced her mother; but I embraced her, and she ceased to weep, for I overwhelmed her with caresses, and unfamiliar sensations made her heart beat fast.

At last we reached my apartment, our apartment. The servant who was to live with us, and who had been in her mother's service, was waiting for us in the concierge's room, with a light; but it was broad day; we needed no service. My wife and I entered our home. I led her by the hand, I felt that she was trembling and I believe that I trembled too.

It is a strange effect of happiness that it suffocates one, that it almost makes one ill.

I closed the doors and shot the bolts. I was alone with my wife! At last there was no third person with us! We were at liberty to love each other, to tell each other of our love, and to prove it!

IX

THE HONEYMOON.--BeLAN'S WEDDING