“I might marry Marguerite too; but we are so happy as we are! Why should we change? Besides, we have plenty of time, haven’t we? Adieu, my dear Blémont. You will come to see us, won’t you?”
“Yes, I promise you that I will.”
VIII
MARRIAGE.—A MEETING.—THE BALL
My mother went to see Madame Dumeillan, and they suited each other. It is a miracle when two women of mature years suit each other. My mother found Eugénie very attractive; she complimented me on my choice, and she was very hard to suit, too. I was overjoyed, in ecstasy. The provisions of the contract were very soon arranged by the two ladies, each of whom had but one child. For my part, I hurried forward the wedding day to the best of my ability. And yet, I was very happy. I passed three-quarters of my afternoons and all my evenings with Eugénie. If the ladies went out, I escorted them. Our approaching union was no secret, and many young men congratulated me on my good fortune. Some of them sighed as they glanced at Eugénie; perhaps they were in love with her. Poor fellows! I pitied them; but I could do nothing for them.
It was decided that I should retain the apartment which I occupied. It was large enough for my wife, and I had it decorated carefully in accordance with her taste. It would not have been large enough if Madame Dumeillan had come to live with us, as I expected at first. Eugénie too hoped that she would not leave her; but Madame Dumeillan said to her affectionately but firmly:
“No, my child, I shall not live with you. When a man marries, he wishes to take but one wife; why give him two? I know that Henri is fond of me; that he would be glad to have me live with him; but I know also, my children, that a young couple often have a thousand things to say to each other, and that a third person, no matter how dearly loved, is sometimes in the way. In love, in jealousy, in the most trivial disputes, the presence of a third person may be most harmful, and may prolong for a week what need have lasted but a moment; it checks the outpouring of love and intensifies the bitterness of reproach. But I will live near you, and I shall see you often, very often. And whenever you want me, you will always be able to find me.”
Eugénie was obliged to yield to her mother, and for my part, I considered that Madame Dumeillan was right.
Should we have a wedding party? That was a question which I asked myself, and which I was tempted more than once to put to Eugénie. But a little reflection convinced me that I should be wrong not to celebrate my marriage. To please me, Eugénie would pretend that she did not care about a ball; but at twenty years of age, possessed of innumerable charms, endowed with all the graces which attract and subjugate, is it not natural for a woman to long to show herself in all the glory of her happiness? Is that not a marked day in her life when she is called madame for the first time, although she has not absolutely ceased to be a maiden; when she has not as yet the assurance of the former, but on the contrary has all the shrinking modesty of the other in an intensified form? Yes, at the age of love and enjoyment, it is essential to have a wedding party; doubly so, when one marries the object of one’s passion; for happiness is always an embellishment. My Eugénie needed no embellishment; but why should I not have a little vanity? Why should I not be proud of my triumph?
So it was decided that we should have a wedding party: that is to say, a grand breakfast after the ceremony, and in the evening a supper and ball at Lointier’s. I determined to look to it that my Eugénie should have magnificent dresses for that great day; not that she could possibly be more beautiful in my eyes, but I wished that she should enjoy all those triumphs which mark an epoch in a woman’s life. I gave her leave to be a coquette on that day.
The moment of my happiness drew near. We turned our attention to the list of guests. For the breakfast there would be very few, enough however to make sure that they would not be bored, and that it should not have the aspect of a family party. For the evening, many people were invited; the salons were large, and it was necessary to fill them. We simply tried to make sure that in the throng none of those fine gentlemen should worm themselves in, who are known neither to the groom nor to the bride, nor to their relations, but who boldly present themselves at a large party, where, under cover of their decent exterior, they consume ices and often cheat at écarté.