The Countess of Monteclaro was there, and Anna Campbell was smiling all over as she acted, in company with Maud and Susannah Montague, as bridesmaid to her friend Kondjé-Gul.
It took them all exactly an hour to pass in procession through the vestry. We had to sign the register there, and my uncle headed it with his self-assumed title of "The late Barbassou," to which he clings.
Then came the deluge of congratulations, my beautiful Christian wife blushing in her emotion, with her garland of orange-flowers. (Well, yes! And why not? It's the custom, you know.)
At two o'clock, back to the house, a family love-feast, and preparations for the flight of the young couple to Férouzat. Peace and joy in all hearts. My uncle, at last admitted to absolution, quivering with pleasure at hearing my aunt Eudoxia calling him no longer "Pasha," but "Captain," as of old.
Everywhere Love and Spring!
Come now, Louis, quite seriously, are you, who have made the experiment, quite sure that one heart suffices for one veritable love? I am anxious to know.
When evening arrived, the Count and Countess of Monteclaro accompanied us to the railway station. They will join us at the end of the month.
I leave you to imagine for yourself all the kisses and salutations, promises and grandparents' advice.
While my aunt was exhorting Kondjé-Gul, my uncle favoured me with a few words on his part.
"You see," he said to me quietly, standing by the side of our carriage, "there is one thing which it is indispensable for you not to forget, and that is never on any account to have two wives—in the same town!"