The marriage before the mayor had taken place on the Thursday. On the Saturday morning, as early as a quarter past ten, some ladies were already waiting in the Josserands’ drawing-room, the religious ceremony being fixed for eleven o’clock, at Saint-Roch. There were Madame Juzeur, always in black silk; Madame Dambreville, tightly laced in a costume of the color of dead leaves; and Madame Duveyrier, dressed very simply in pale blue. All three were conversing in low tones amongst the scattered chairs; whilst Madame Josserand was finishing dressing Berthe in the adjoining room, assisted by the servant and the two bridesmaids, Hortense and little Campardon.
“Oh! it is not that,” murmured Madame Duveyrier; “the family is honorable. But, I admit, I rather dreaded on my brother Auguste’s account the mother’s domineering spirit. One cannot be too careful, can one?”
“No doubt,” said Madame Juzeur; “one not only marries the daughter, one often marries the mother as well, and it is very unpleasant when the latter interferes in the home.”
This time Angèle and Hortense opened the folding doors wide so that the bride should not catch her dress in anything; and Berthe appeared in a white silk dress, all gay with white flowers, with a white wreath, a white bouquet, and a white garland, which crossed the skirt, and was lost in the train in a shower of little white buds. She looked charming amidst all this whiteness, with her fresh complexion, her golden hair, her laughing eyes, and her candid mouth of an already enlightened girl.
“Oh! delicious!” exclaimed the ladies.
They all embraced her with an air of ecstasy. The Josserands, at their wits’ end, not knowing where to obtain the two thousand francs which the wedding would cost them, five hundred francs for dress, and fifteen hundred francs for their share of the dinner and ball, had been obliged to send Berthe to Doctor Chassagne’s to see Saturnin, to whom an aunt had just left three thousand francs; and Berthe, having obtained permission to take her brother out for a drive, by way of amusing him, had smothered him with caresses in the cab, and had then gone with him for a minute to the notary, who was unaware of the poor creature’s condition, and who had everything ready for his signature. The silk dress and the abundance of flowers surprised the ladies, who were reckoning up the cost whilst giving vent to their admiration.
“Perfect! in most exquisite taste!”
Madame Josserand appeared, beaming, in a mauve dress of an unpleasant hue, which made her look taller and rounder than ever, with the majesty of a tower. She fumed about Monsieur Josserand, called to Hortense to find her shawl, and vehemently forbade Berthe to sit down.
“Take care, you will crush your flowers!”
“Do not worry yourself,” said Clothilde, in her calm voice. “We have plenty of time. Auguste is coming for us.”