And smiling at the thought, Savin went on his way.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE WEDDING.
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 the fête.
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 hands in 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.”