Part 25

To reach the church we had to repeat the same nonsense with respect to the carriages; it took even longer to arrange the order of march, for several people had joined us at the mayor's office, and the procession was swelled by three sedan chairs and two Bath chairs. My wedding had stirred the town to its centre; the church was filled with people, and we could scarcely force our way through the crowd. Those who were not of the wedding party had come to criticise, those who were, to admire; and the idlers, loiterers, working girls, matrons, and old women, to say their say concerning the bride and groom.

Everybody knows what a marriage is, for it is easy to procure the pleasures of marriage in Paris. I will not therefore go into the details of mine; it resembled others as to form, and several times I heard some such words as:

"That's a pretty couple; they are both very good-looking."

A body always likes to hear such remarks.

At last the fatal _yes_ was pronounced. Pélagie said it so low that nobody could have heard her; for my part, I showed much firmness. We had a sermon preached to us--a little long, perhaps, but very touching and moving. How can one fail to be moved when one is pledging one's self for life?--I glanced at Pélagie; she did not weep; her eyes were cast down, her manner was as reserved, her demeanor as modest as usual, and she showed no more than her ordinary emotion. That vexed me; it seemed to me that she should have wept.

At last all was over; I was married! We left the church between three rows of sightseers, and went to my sister's; we spent three-quarters of an hour in going the distance of a gunshot; to be sure, our procession was increased by about half of the town, and we had to return salutes and courtesies at every step.

When we reached the house, it was only half-past one, and we did not dine till three. What were we to do in the interval? That was the most difficult part of the whole day. Some old women proposed a game of boston or whist, but Madame de Pontchartrain thought that it would be a breach of etiquette to play cards on a wedding day morning; it is good form to do nothing; it is amusement enough to talk, sitting very straight for fear of rumpling one's gown.

Without asking our dear aunt's opinion, I went down into the garden with my wife. I wanted to entice her into some solitary path; not that I proposed to exert my marital rights already; but I wanted to try to read Pélagie's heart and find out what her present feelings were.--It was impossible to be alone; all the young women followed us; the inquisitive little hussies would not let us out of their sight. Two young married people afford so much food for thought! they are so pretty to look at--when they are pretty; and you know that we were.

I could do nothing more than take my wife's hand; I squeezed it tenderly--very tenderly--and she looked at me and smiled.--"The deuce!" thought I; "can it be that she understands that language?"

"You hurt my fingers," she remarked mildly, withdrawing her hand.

It was enough to drive one to despair! I had no further desire to walk with her alone.

Luckily, the hour for the feast arrived. We betook ourselves, with the utmost formality, as before, to the dining room; we took our seats in the order demanded by convention. I was at one end of the table, my wife at the other; that was the best way to encourage harmony between us; and then, everyone knew that we should come together at last.

The greatest tranquillity reigned during the early courses; we sat very straight, watched one another, passed the dishes, ate, and declared everything divine, exquisite, delicious: that was substantially the whole of the conversation. I had no desire to enliven it; I was sober, yes, pensive. Sometimes I glanced at my wife; her eyes were constantly fixed on her plate. Madame de Pontchartrain's expressed the satisfaction she felt at the reserved demeanor of the bride and groom; we certainly could not be charged with acting like two madcaps.

Upon examining the guests, I found that I had at my right a pretty, vivacious young blonde, with whom I had several times laughed and joked when we met in society, so far as laughter was permitted in the circles that we frequented. I began to talk with her by way of distraction, but she replied with marked coldness, reserve, and brevity. What did that mean? Mon Dieu! I had forgotten that I was now a _married man_. I was still inclined to play the gallant with young ladies, but I had lost my title of bachelor, which was worth a hundred times more in their eyes than all the pretty speeches I could make them as a Benedick.

However, I was determined to amuse myself at any price. I tried to eat; but I was not hungry.

"I will drink, then," I said to myself; "but I must take care; a bridegroom should keep his head clear."

The dessert came at last; our appetites were a little appeased; the wits of the party began to shine, the jokers to hazard a bonmot or two or a very sly remark; the young men tried to laugh, and the women did their utmost to consider it all very amusing. My sister was in ecstasies; she did her best to encourage this well-intended merriment. As for Déneterre, he was so busily engaged in carving, and in looking after the small table at which his children were sitting with six other children, that he had no time to put in a word.

The dessert and liqueurs increased the general hilarity to the highest point, augmented as it was by divers little pranks on the part of my nephews, who knocked over two piles of plates, broke three glasses, overturned sauce on several ladies' dresses, while coming to the large table to fetch for themselves things that were promised them but that did not arrive quickly enough to satisfy them. But they knew that on such a great day they had carte blanche, and they made the most of it. Everybody agreed that they were dear little fellows, even the ladies who would have to change their dresses. Their papa and mamma were enraptured, which was quite natural.

The signal was given, and we left the table.

"How is this?" I whispered to my sister; "no song?"

"You know very well that it isn't good form nowadays, my dear. Is there singing at the great weddings in Paris?"

"No; but there is at those where the guests enjoy themselves."

"We stick to custom."

"And the garter?"

"Fie! fie! we have done away with that; it was indecent!"

"Oh! it was indecent, was it? I see that I must not do at my wedding party or to my wife anything that the most rigid rules of chastity do not permit. I trust, however, that you have not suppressed anything else."

"Oh! no, brother! besides, I am sure that to-day you have no desire to----"

"To what?"

"Why, to----"

"To what, in heaven's name? Finish."

"Why, a desire to--with your wife---- Oh! you know what I mean."

"The deuce! surely you are joking, my dear girl? Do people no longer marry for that here? is that suppressed, too?"

"No, my dear, no! but a man generally leaves his wife in peace the first day. The poor child has been so excited!"

"Yes; it is astounding how excited she looks!"

"You must give her time to recover herself."

"Go to the deuce, my dear Amélie, with all your nonsense! What is the meaning of all this affectation? as if it must not come to that at last! I don't like this prudery which denotes dissimulation pure and simple. I know by experience that those who cry scandal the loudest are the ones who in secret have the least virtue. The modesty of rakes and kept women is much more easily shocked than that of virtuous men and decent women. Fans hide more prostitutes than virgins, and veils are worn from coquetry, not from modesty; in short, those who make so much fuss and hang back at first are the ones who jump the highest afterward."

"Well, you are free to do as you please, brother."

"That is very fortunate!"

Poor Amélie! how she had changed since she had been living in that paltry town! So this was the banquet at which we were to laugh so loud and have so much sport! For my own part--and I have been to many weddings--I confess that the merriest are those of honest folk who are not afraid of violating etiquette and the proprieties every moment. Commend me to the poor people for real enjoyment! But I realized that on this occasion I must say with the song:

"When we are beggars, then we'll make merry!"

My wife disappeared. Ah, yes! to dress for the ball--that was it. I had nothing to say against that custom; in any event, I should have been careful not to say it; I should have had all the young women about my ears. Two dresses, sometimes three--that was one of the pretty customs of that day.

We returned to Madame de Pontchartrain's for the ball. It was the first time that I had ever seen wedding festivities divided between two places; but I found that I learned many things at Melun.

We assembled in the salon, which was lighted by candelabra that must have done duty in the time of King Pepin le Bref. The guests invited for the ball arrived in a swarm; no one ever dreams of missing a fête in a small town. The bride appeared in her ball dress, which was in very good taste. I looked at her, but her eyes were still _in statu quo_. I ventured to say to her, under my breath:

"Do lift your eyes a little; you have such lovely eyes!"

"Aunt told me not to."

That was all I could extort from her. I had nothing to say to that; it would have been ill-advised for me to play the master so soon.

The orchestra began to play; we had two violins and a clarinet; also a little fifer, to imitate Colinet; it was superb--at all events, it was the best that could be had in the town. They played contradances that I had never heard in Paris. I surmised that they were composed by the leader of the local orchestra; it was impossible to make the mistake of confusing them with those of Rubner, Weber, and Tolbecque.

There was plenty of dancing; and in that amusement the pleasure was not feigned, for youth loves to caper. The young men disputed with one another the privilege of dancing with the bride, who was always engaged for fourteen or fifteen quadrilles ahead. The groom's turn never comes on such occasions; but on his wedding day he is easily consoled, and a thing that would have distressed him terribly the day before makes no difference to him when he is married. How a title changes one's way of feeling and of looking at things!

I too danced; I was very glad to have that resource to occupy my time, and I was as persistent as my wife.

"Do take a little rest," some young man would say to me; "you'll tire yourself out."

But I paid no heed, for I thought less than they did of what I still had to do.

Toward the end of the evening, however, I danced with Pélagie; the ball had warmed her up a little: her cheeks were flushed and her bosom rose and fell more rapidly; she was really very pretty, and I ought to have deemed myself very lucky to possess so many charms. I began to look at my watch and to think that the time passed very slowly.

But it was growing late, and many people had already taken leave. It was one o'clock in the morning! a big slice taken off the night. Madame de Pontchartrain made a sign to my sister, and they led my wife away. I divined the meaning of that, and I waited until I might be allowed to join Pélagie.

The ceremony seemed to me very long! Not until three-quarters of an hour had passed did Amélie return and motion to me that at last I was at liberty to go to my wife.

All the guests departed; I did the same; fleeing from the jests that bored me to death, I left the ballroom and bent my steps toward the wing which I was to occupy thenceforth.

I was directed to my bedroom; I had been careful to take a light, otherwise I should have broken my neck in some of the innumerable rooms of that old house, and the time would have been very ill chosen for an accident. I saw a light--that must be the place. I opened a door and entered a very handsome bedroom, furnished somewhat _à l'antique,_ but provided with everything. Two wax candles were burning on the mantel; I recognized several articles of mine on a table, for my sister had taken pains to have all my wardrobe transported to my new abode. I was at home; so far, so good. To make sure of not being disturbed, I bolted the door, then walked toward the bed, the curtains of which were drawn--from bashfulness, of course.

I heard no sound. Could she be asleep already? or was she pretending to be? I drew the curtains aside, and I saw no one in the bed, which had not been disturbed.

What did that mean? I was certainly in my apartment--everything that I found there proved it. In that case, where could my wife be? Did it mean that we were to have a bedroom each? Why, of course; and that was why they hoped that I would leave my wife in peace. "The devil take them with their nonsensical customs!" thought I.--If I had only known it sooner! However, I wanted my wife; I was determined to have her, I must have her. I had not married a pretty doll who never opened her mouth and kept her eyes on the ground all day to be alone at night and occupy a separate bed; the least I could expect was some little compensation for the ennui I had suffered.--I would sleep with my wife--that was my resolution--even though I must turn the whole house upside down to attain that end.

I reflected first of all that my wife's room could not be far from mine. I concluded to try to find it, and to avoid making a noise if possible; for that would cause scandal in the household of Madame de Pontchartrain, who thought perhaps that I had married her niece to obtain the right to make love to her at those innocent parlor games.

I looked about and discovered a door which I had not noticed at first. I took a candle, opened the door, and found myself in a fine salon. That was very well; I continued my inspection of my suite. There was a door facing me; where did that lead? Into a dining room. Another door opened into a passageway; I went on and found a toilet room freshly painted; all very pleasant, but not what I was looking for at that moment.

I returned to the salon. Whither did that other door lead? To my wife's room, no doubt; since I had been prowling about the salon as if I were playing hide-and-seek, I must have passed it many times. I tried to open it by turning the knob, but it resisted; it was locked on the inside. No more doubt: my wife was there, and had been advised to lock herself in. Ah! what sly creatures they were in that country!

I knocked--no answer. I knocked again, louder.

"Who is there?" someone asked at last; and I recognized Pélagie's voice.

"It's I, my dear love."

"Oh! is it you, monsieur my husband?"

"Yes, my dear; come, let me in quickly."

"What for?"

"Parbleu! I'll tell you in a minute. Open the door."

"Oh! I can't!"

"You can't! what does that mean? that's decidedly new!"

"My aunt told me not to."

"Your aunt doesn't know what she says. As she has been a widow thirty-three years, perhaps she has forgotten that husbands and wives sleep together."

"Oh, yes! I know that you will sleep with me finally; but she told me that modesty requires me to postpone the time as long as possible."

"And I tell you that we must sleep together at once; modesty has nothing more to do with our love; hymen has its rights, and you must listen to it now; the pleasures it permits should not alarm your modesty."

"I don't understand all that."

"I will make you understand it when I am with you. Open the door, I beg you. I can't begin to instruct you with this door between us."

"I'm afraid that my aunt----"

"Look you, madame, I am your husband, after all; you swore this morning to be obedient and submissive to me, and you are violating your oaths already! Come, Pélagie, I beg you, let's not begin with a quarrel; open the door at once; if you don't, I'll set the house on fire."

"Oh! mon Dieu!"

She opened the door instantly; she was in her chemise and hurried back to hide herself in her bed; but it was easy for me to find her now. I still had a few obstacles to overcome; but they were not at all disagreeable; indeed, I should have been very much distressed if I had not encountered them! On this occasion the rose was not without thorns.

Let us draw the curtain over the mysteries of hymen, although they are one of Polichinelle's secrets.

XXXII

RETURN TO PARIS

The first days of married life are called the honeymoon. But the only honey I enjoyed was a grand row with Madame de Pontchartrain on the day after my wedding, because she perceived by her heavy eyes, her gait, in fact, by a thousand symptoms which never escape a dowager's glance, that I had already plucked the rose of hymen. She went so far as to reproach me, to accuse me of immodesty, brutality, a purely animal passion, and declared that I wanted to kill her niece. It would have required the patience of a cherub to listen unmoved to such nonsense; and as I am no angel, I sent our aunt about her business; I forbade her to meddle in my affairs thereafter, and especially enjoined upon her to refrain from offering advice to my wife. Madame de Pontchartrain shrieked and stormed and raved; I withdrew to my apartment; and there we were at swords' point!

Old women are great talkers, and the dear aunt was spiteful and vindictive in addition. Instead of trying to forget that scene, she thought only of revenging herself for what she called my base conduct. On the next day, the whole town knew that I was a hot-tempered, ungentlemanly libertine, and that I had begun already to make my wife very unhappy.

However, my sister, who knew me and loved me, made haste to contradict all the rumors that the old aunt put in circulation to my discredit; she fell out with Madame de Pontchartrain, because she did not share her way of looking at things. In the town, some believed the aunt, others my sister; opinions were divided; it would almost have split the community into two hostile camps, except that they were generally agreed as to the main point, that is, the pleasure of making unkind remarks and the love of scandal.

I was very little disturbed by what the people of Melun thought and said of me, but I was deeply interested in my wife, and I was desirous that she should not agree with her aunt.

Pélagie found herself in an embarrassing position: her aunt told her not to listen to me, and I told her not to listen to her aunt, who did all that she could to induce her to come often to her apartments, while I did my best to prevent her going there. Madame de Pontchartrain told Pélagie that she ought to command, to force me to obey her--in a word, to be the mistress; while I tried to make her understand that when a woman can do nothing but play parlor games, dance, embroider, and sing ballads, she ought to call in her husband to assist her in managing her household.

All this frequently threw my wife into a state of painful uncertainty. I had been her husband only a few days, and her aunt had been her mentor from infancy. She was afraid of her, and I should have been very sorry to arouse such a feeling with respect to myself. The result was that she obeyed her aunt rather than me; and that had already brought about several of those little _discussions_ which I desired to avoid. If Pélagie had had any wit or judgment, she would have felt that her aunt was wrong. But, alas! she had nothing of the sort; and dullards are much harder to lead than bright people. I hoped that she would acquire those qualities, and that, having her eyes opened in regard to a certain matter, she would become less stupid with regard to others; but I was beginning to lose that hope.

There was one point, however, upon which we were in accord: that was our right to sleep together. As to that, Pélagie was entirely of my opinion; she no longer dreamed of having a separate bed, and was never tempted to lock her door. I would have bet that it would be so; these little innocents!--when they are once started, nothing will stop them!

I had no desire to remain at Melun; but before taking my wife to Paris, it was necessary that I should have lodgings prepared for her reception. I could not take her to my little bachelor apartment; it was not suitable for us, nor did I wish her to know anything about it.

To find suitable lodgings, have them furnished and put in order, and engage servants, would detain me in Paris at least a week; and if I should leave my wife in her aunt's power for a week, God only knew in what frame of mind I should find her when I returned! An hour passed with Madame de Pontchartrain always caused a quarrel between Pélagie and me. When she left her aunt, who had persuaded her that she ought not to listen to me, she made it her business to do just the opposite of what I told her, to tease me and make me angry; it was extremely difficult for me to bring her back to other ideas and to make her realize her errors. If she should pass a week without seeing me, it would be impossible for us to live together.

What was to be done? I did not propose to live in the province any longer; I was beginning to have my fill of it, and I felt that if I were obliged to live there I should die.

My sister saw my plight; and despite her desire to have me settle down in her vicinity, as she saw that I did not enjoy the pleasures of wedlock as I ought at Melun, she offered to send Déneterre to Paris, to prepare an apartment for me. I accepted her offer gratefully; and my brother-in-law set off, with full instructions from me.

I prayed that he might return very soon. The time seemed terribly long to me. I was obliged to remain constantly with my wife; and to be always in the company of a person who has nothing to say, who often does not understand what you say to her--what torture!

At first I had hopes; the nights were some slight recompense; but hope soon vanished, and even the nights sometimes seemed wearisome to me. Ah! then I realized what a trivial thing mere beauty is! We become accustomed to everything, to an ugly face as well as a lovely one; but when, with the lovely face, we find no sustenance for the mind or heart; when a little mouth is mute or says only foolish things; when two great eyes have no expression; when the smile is always the same; when the voice expresses no feeling--then there is nothing to do but yawn and fall asleep beside that little chef-d'oeuvre of nature.

But when we listen to some attractive person, who has the power to describe what she feels, whose eyes and voice are equally eloquent, who charms us by her thoughts and attracts us by her conversation, do we pay any heed to her ugliness? No, we forget it; more than that, it actually disappears, and the face that repelled us at first becomes agreeable to us.

"Are men of great minds ever ugly?"

Doubtless beauty combined with wit aids materially in seducing us; but if we can have only one of the two, I am sure that in marrying we should not set great store by externals. That one should take a pretty mistress, without bothering one's head as to her mental powers, is perfectly natural; one can leave her as soon as she becomes a bore. But a wife! a companion for the rest of one's life! what a difference! I know there are many husbands who spend less time with their wives than with their mistresses; but I am not speaking for their benefit. When I married, I intended to have a happy home, not to leave my wife and run after other women; and yet, as you will see, that was what I was obliged to do.