Part 21 (1/2)

I had hoped that the breakfast would be at a restaurant; but we were bidden to return to the mother-in-law's. That certainly required courage. Eugenie and I looked at each other, vowing, albeit a little late, that we would never be caught in such a sc.r.a.pe again.

The bridegroom went ahead, doubtless to have his rose leaves swept away.

I was sure that he would do the sweeping himself rather than expose himself to his mother-in-law's wrath.

A long table was laid in the dining-room. We took our seats; I was between the old aunt with a nose like a snail's sh.e.l.l and the tall cousin who had fallen so hard on the stairway; my wife was a mile away from me, between two old uncles with lace cuffs and curly wigs. How we were likely to enjoy ourselves!

I expected to see Giraud and his wife at the breakfast, for Giraud had been declaring everywhere that it was he who had arranged Belan's marriage. But evidently the mother-in-law had not deemed them worthy of that honor, and we should not see them until evening.

The bride kept her eyes on the floor and did not eat. The mother-in-law looked at her daughter, wiped her eyes, and seemed not to realize that there was anybody there. We sat at the table two minutes without touching anything, no one having been requested to serve. Belan, uncertain whether he was expected to do the honors, glanced at his wife and his mother-in-law in turn, and faltered:

”Who is to serve? Does Madame de Beausire desire me to serve?”

But Madame de Beausire replied only by blowing her nose and sighing.

I looked at my wife; I had such a mad desire to laugh that I dropped my knife and fork on the floor, so that I might indulge it a little while fumbling under the table. I chose to be considered awkward rather than discourteous.

At last an old uncle, who had not come to the wedding simply to look at the dishes, although that would have been more dignified than to eat them, drew an enormous pie toward him and gave the signal for the attack. We decided to breakfast, notwithstanding Madame de Beausire's sighs; but we did it with a decorum and gravity which were interrupted only by the noise of the plates and the forks.

When the first edge of the appet.i.te was dulled, some of the uncles and cousins were pleased to indulge in various significant phrases, dwelling upon every word they uttered, as if they considered that necessary in order that we should understand them. Belan put in a word here and there, but it was not noticed. I discovered that he was trying to lead the conversation around to the subject of poetry. I felt certain that he had written some, or had had some written, and that he did not know how to set to work to recite it. Whenever he reached the subject, an uncle or an aunt would cut him short by speaking of something else. I felt sorry for him and said:

”My dear Belan, has anyone written any poetry for your wedding?”

”Yes, just so; I myself have dashed off something in honor of this day, and with your permission, I will----”

”What! do you mean to say that you are going to sing, Monsieur de Belan?” cried Madame de Beausire, with an almost threatening glance at her son-in-law. ”For shame, monsieur! what sort of people have you lived with, where it was customary to sing at the table?”

”I never had any idea of singing, mother-in-law; nor have I any desire to. I meant simply to recite some verses,--verses which do not in the least degree resemble a song.”

”Verses at a wedding! You should leave that to the Almanach des Muses,”

said the tall cousin, who sat beside me, and who still bore the groom a grudge on account of his fall on the stairs. At the same instant Madame de Beausire shrieked aloud:

”You are pale, Armide! Don't you feel well, my child?”

I had not noticed that the bride had changed color; but as her mother told her that she had, Armide probably thought it best not to feel well.

She pa.s.sed her hand over her eyes and said in a faltering tone:

”No, I feel----”

Her mother did not allow her to finish. She sprang to her feet, crying:

”Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! Armide is dying! We must carry her to her bed.”

Instantly there was a general uprising. The aunt who was at my side thrust her elbow in my face in her attempt to rise quickly in order to go to the a.s.sistance of her niece, who thereupon concluded that she had best be ill altogether. While they were taking Armide to her room, and Belan was running hither and thither like a madman, I went to my wife, took her hand and led her to the door, saying:

”This is quite enough for one morning.”

Belan overtook us on the stairs, and called out to us:

”What! going already? Why, my wife will come to herself in a minute; I am not worried about her health; my mother-in-law is forever telling her that she is going to die, when she has no idea of doing anything of the kind.”