§ iv
Not one of the party gave him a thought. They reached the church and entered, and Mr. Stephens was waiting there, with two friends. No one else had been invited. Like a woman in a dream Claudine went into the vestry with Andrée, to take off their furs.
“Am I all right?” asked Andrée.
“Yes, darling, very nice!” she answered. She wanted to look forever and ever at that girl in her plain dark suit, her small hat, that gallant and heart-breaking young figure.
Suddenly Andrée crushed her in a fierce embrace.
“Mother!” she said. “Mother!”
“Don’t cry, my heart’s darling!”
“I won’t; just in a minute.... Mother, are you satisfied—now?”
“Yes, my darling!”
“Tell me, Mother—I don’t understand ... why do you care so much about this—about this ceremony? What does it matter, if we care for each other?”
“I think it’s this, Andrée. I think marriage is the only way to impress upon a man what a woman is giving to him. You know—almost all women know—how sacred and wonderful and terrible a thing it is. But I don’t believe men quite understand. I think they would take it very casually—if it weren’t made as solemn and impressive as—”
Andrée flushed.
“It isn’t sacred and wonderful!” she said. “I hate that sort of talk so! I don’t want to impress poor little Al with my preciousness. He’s just as valuable and good as I am. He gives up just as much.”
“Andrée—my baby—if you’ll—”
“Don’t give me any advice about managing him!” said Andrée, with her sudden laugh. “I’ll never try! Hadn’t we better go in, Mother?”
Claudine took her seat in a front pew.
“Now I must sit here and watch this horrible thing!” she said to herself. “Oh God! Oh God! Do other mothers feel like this? How can they smile?... How can they be pleased—and try to make matches?... Am I a morbid, perverted woman? It’s her destiny to marry someone—and he’s a kind man.... I must be glad!”
She heard their responses, both of their voices steady and clear, both of them making those promises.
“I must be happy!” she said, again. “It’s just the beginning of her life. There is sure to be so much joy and accomplishment in it.... This is only one step.... I must have fortitude. I can’t live her life for her....”
She rose, to face the little man’s wife. She kissed her pale, sombre face, she clasped his hand.
“Be happy!” she said.
Then she looked round in a sort of panic for Bertie.
“Bertie!” she whispered. “Take me home! Take me home!”