headerCHAPTER VIII.THE WEDDING.
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The day of Suzanne’s wedding came, bringing with it no change for the better in the home of the Barraus. Hostility still existed. Savin was as usual sad at heart, and Catherine was visibly indifferent and disdainful. She always dressed in excellent taste and in attire that, however simple, accentuated her extraordinary beauty. Formerly the D’Angerolles had known luxury and affluence, and Catherine had inherited a becoming air of stateliness. Her dignity and grace made her the acknowledged belle of the province.
As Savin gazed upon her he could not conceal his admiration, and gently laying his hand on her shoulder he said: “Naughty little woman, you have no equal if you would but consent to listen to reason.”
But Catherine remained mute and indifferent to his caress. Savin courteously opened the door for her to pass out, and soon they were on their way to thefête.
Any one seeing them as they walked together, he with his military air and remarkable physique, and she enveloped in a white mantle which set off her queenly figure to the best advantage, would have been tempted to exclaim: “What a fine couple!” as indeed they were.
Before the blacksmith’s shop Fadard, with his handsin his pockets, was whistling a hunter’s song. An expression of malice dominated his features, but when the Barraus passed by he saluted them with a smile that succeeded in its attempt to be sarcastic.
“Good-morning, Fadard,” returned Savin. “You seem in better spirits than when I last saw you.”
Fadard said nothing, but he continued to smile in a supercilious manner. Catherine glanced at him. Their eyes met and the young woman read a sort of challenge in his look. He was ready to go to the wedding, but he was waiting for Andoche, who had not yet completed his toilet.
“Bah! how I hate water,” muttered Andoche. “The bother of going tofêtesis that one must souse in water. I never drink the stuff and I heartily dislike to handle it. Thank fortune, I am ready,” he said at length as he arranged his necktie. “Let’s be off.”
In front of the conjugal cottage many of the guests had assembled, and a bevy of boys and girls merrily danced and frolicked on the green, while the old fogies, calmly seated under the trees, discussed the frivolity of the young and the wisdom of the old.
Within the cottage all was confusion. Nothing seemed to be in place. The babel of voices and scampering of feet were fairly deafening. The merrymakers continued to arrive. Two or three ancient carry-alls, weighted down with village boys and girls who were shouting at the top of their voices, drove up and discharged their load at the cottage door. Greetings and embraces followed, and all gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the hour.
The musicians finally came, and after drinking with Andoche, all fell in line for the wedding-march to theMayor’s office. It was a pretty sight. Two hundred guests, walking two by two, followed the bride. The head of the little procession passed the house of Monsieur Eugène before the last pair started.
A wedding in the provinces is considered a great affair. The day is given over to enjoyment. Business is suspended and the whole countryside joins in the festivities. In this particular wedding every one was interested, for the bride and groom were both popular favorites. To be sure, many a girl thought Jacques a simpleton to choose Suzanne, and many a lad declared Suzanne was throwing herself away; but still the occasion was a serene and happy one. The church service, as well as the ceremony at the Mayor’s, was successfully performed. During the former, Savin quietly stood watching his wife, whose face was cold and joyless.
As they left the church a young fellow who had been serving as kitchen-boy in Paris set off some fire-crackers and hurled them down before the bridal party. The village maidens were frightened at the noise and feared their dresses would catch fire. But many laughed as, accompanied by fireworks and listening to impromptu jests, the procession returned to the cottage.
Near by, in the granary, a feast had been prepared. Twenty good servants had been engaged to wait upon the guests. Suzanne’s grandmother, a little woman with bright, sharp eyes, superintended the banquet, and a better table was never spread in the Morvan. The old lady ordered the waiters about with a martial air. As the party approached, she despatched one of her aids to the kitchen.
“Ursule,” said she, “run to the kitchen and see if all is ready.”
The lusty, buxom girl addressed disappeared into the adjoining apartment. And the kitchen! What a poem! Half hidden by blue smoke and savory steam, a dozen cooks were preparing the most tempting viands. An ox was roasting. All kinds of game, meats, vegetables, preserves, fruits, sweetmeats,hors d’œuvresand spices were abundantly provided. Seven days of culinary labor had been consumed in the preparation for the banquet, and nothing had been left undone to make it a success. An appetizing odor filled the air, and every guest longed to begin the feast. Those in the village who, in a spirit of economy, had declined the invitation—not feeling inclined to contribute a present—now regretted their action.
“How delicious and savory it smells,” said Mademoiselle Faillot, who had declined the invitation. “Dear! dear! if I had only known such a princely feast was to be prepared, I certainly should have accepted. But perhaps it is not yet too late. I will try.”
As the wedding party approached, she planted herself in the road. She was an ugly-looking, avaricious, cunning woman; but she knew well how to dissemble, and as the bride advanced, her face was wreathed in patronizing smiles.
“My dear Suzanne,” said she, “how beautiful you are. I knew you would make a pretty bride, but you are simply lovely—a hundred times beyond my expectations.”
“You are very kind, Mademoiselle Léocadia,” returned Suzanne, blushing with pleasure.
“Yes, indeed. You far surpass our last bride, Jeanne, in loveliness. And yet you know how everybody raved about her.”
“How is it that you are not one of the merrymakers?” asked Madame Percier, the groom’s mother.
“Well, I was afraid I should be obliged to go to Château Chinon to-day; but my cousin did my errand for me. If I had only known——”
“You would have accepted,” anticipated Suzanne.
“Yes, but you see I refused thedragée——”
“Oh, never mind that,” said the bride graciously. “Pray come to the banquet.”
“No, thank you kindly, but I made a stupid mistake, and I must abide by it. I should have dearly loved to see you beside Jacques and to have admired you in the dance, but I must respect the custom in regard to weddings.”
“The custom! Pooh! Come, come, Mademoiselle, you must join us,” said Jacques as he gently took her arm. “Here is Mademoiselle Léocadia who is going to dine with us,” cried he to the rest. Mademoiselle Faillot protested in a hypocritical manner, inwardly elated the while at the success of her manœuvre.
Reaching the granary the tables were soon filled, and Léocadia found herself occupying a seat of honor near the bride and groom. Her flattery had proven effective, as it usually did, and the day’s enjoyment was secured to her. When, however, Suzanne’s grandmother saw Mademoiselle Faillot so comfortably settled she looked somewhat disappointed.
“I feared she would try to get in some way—the viper,” was the old lady’s observation. But there was nothing to be done about it.
The feast was a grand success. Everybody ate and drank to his or her heart’s content, and the quantity of wine consumed loosened the tongues of all present tosuch an extent that for a while the place was a very good imitation of a pandemonium.
At length Suzanne rose and addressed the company.
“Who wants to dance?” she loudly inquired.
Immediately fifty boys and girls, among them Catherine, Sidonie, Félicité, and Jeanne, pressed forward.
“My old grandmother danced at my marriage,” said Grandma Marion, “and I will take a turn out of compliment to my little Suzanne.”
And the agile, bright little old woman kept her word, amid the applause of all present. Fadard, the worse off for wine, approached Catherine to ask for the first dance.
“Madame,” said he, “will you polka with me?”
“I cannot say, Monsieur. You must ask my husband.”
“Oh, come, come.”
“You are surprised, it seems. Isn’t my husband the master?”
“Yes, of course. But I supposed it hardly would be necessary to ask permission for——”
“You were wrong, then.”
“Very well, I will go and ask your husband.”
And turning on his heel, Andoche’s friend started in quest of Savin, with a sinister expression on his face.
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