And with a deep sigh he slowly began the ascent of the declivity, stretching along the Seine, to the Rue Chaillot.
CHAPTER XX.
The old mulatto wended his way slowly toward the heights of Chaillot, until he reached the church of that poor, populous faubourg.
To his astonishment, he found the church in a blaze of lights. Through the wide open door could be seen the sanctuary and altar, brilliantly illuminated with tapers and decorated with flowers, as though in anticipation of some imposing ceremony, while grouped in the street and surrounding windows, a throng of curiosity seekers and belated wayfarers excitedly discussed the approaching event.
"They cannot delay much longer," observed one.
"No, for it is nearly midnight," rejoined another.
"Rather a strange hour for a marriage."
"Undoubtedly; but with such a dowry one can afford peculiar things."
"Who is to be married at this odd hour?" questioned the old man from the last speaker.
"You must be a stranger in this part of the city," replied the man addressed, "or you would know all about the six marriages, which for four years have taken place on the night of May 11 and 12."