Needless to add, I did not lose any time. In a quarter of an hour I was at Passy. It so happened that a favourable crisis had come over Ernest and relieved him, and he gave no further cause for anxiety. My aunt Gretchen, who had gone through all this business as a blind man might pass under an arch, without knowing anything about it, did not evince the least surprise on hearing that my uncle "having received a telegram which had obliged him to leave Paris that evening, had commissioned me in his absence to send her off immediately to Amsterdam." She entrusted me with no end of compliments for the Countess of Monteclaro, whose acquaintance she was charmed to have made.
The next morning she was rolling away in the express, delighted to have made such an agreeable and enjoyable visit.
A week has now passed since this affair, and beyond that my uncle is still quite humiliated by a malicious sort of gaiety affected by my aunt, who often calls him "The Pasha," instead of "The Captain," which is the title she always gave him formerly, everything has resumed the harmonious tranquillity of the best regulated household. Attentions, politenesses, gallantries, &c., are quite the order of the day. Only he is ruining me with all the presents he lavishes upon her; and I have been forced to make serious complaints on the subject to my aunt, who has laughed insanely at them, maintaining that it is "the sinner's ransom." Still, some kind of restrictions are necessary in families, and I have warned her that, if it continues, I shall stop "the late Barbassou's" credit, seeing that he is dead.
"You see what a simple matter it is, as my uncle says," I added.
But she only laughed again, louder than ever. We have got on no further.
Louis, go and hang yourself! I was married yesterday, and you were not there!
The ceremony was very fine. It was at the church of Sainte Clotilde; all the Faubourg St. Germain was there, delighted at Kondjé-Gul's conversion, and with her beauty, her charming manners, and the romance connected with our marriage. Everyone was there who has made any name in the world of art, not to speak of that of finance. There was Baron Rothschild, who had a long conversation with my uncle. Three special correspondents for London newspapers were present, and all our own Paris reporters. High Mass, full choral; Fauré sang his Pie Jesus, Madame Carvalho and Adelina Patti the Credo.
At the entrance, the crowd nearly crushed us. Barbassou-Pasha, Count of Monteclaro, gave his arm to the bride. Poor Kondjé, what agitation, what emotion, what delight she evinced! I escorted Madame
Murrah in a splendid costume, tamed but very dignified still, and playing her part with noble airs, like a fatalist. "It was written!" She started off the same day to Rhodes, where my uncle is finding a position for her—as head manager of his Botany Bay.