“Pray rest a moment and eat something,” people said to me.
Much I thought about eating! I preferred to hurry the supper of that multitude.
I found Giraud and his two children sitting at a small table with three young men. Giraud had a currant cake on his knees, and he had slipped a bowl of jelly under the table, not choosing to pass it, for fear it would not come back to him. I called for fish, chickens, and pâté; I covered his children’s plates with cakes. Giraud was in ecstasy; he shook my hand, murmuring:
“This is one of the finest weddings I have ever seen, and God knows that I have seen a tremendous number of them!”
Madame Giraud, who had been obliged to leave the large table when the other ladies rose, walked behind her husband and children at that moment, with an enormous reticule hanging on her arm. While pretending to pass the gentlemen what they wanted, I saw that she kept opening the bag and thrusting cakes, biscuit, and even pie crust into it. Giraud, seeing that I had noticed his wife’s manœuvring, said to her angrily, as she was trying to force some macaroons into her bag:
“What on earth are you doing, Madame Giraud? What sort of manners are these? You are putting macaroons into your bag!”
“Just for Azor, my dear, the poor beast. He is so fond of macaroons, you know. They would be wasted, so what harm does it do? I want poor Azor to have a little of the pleasure of this party.”
“You know very well that I don’t like such things, Madame Giraud.”
I appeased Giraud, who pretended to be very angry; then I walked away, in order to leave his wife at full liberty; and she ended by making a perfect balloon of her bag.
Meanwhile, the tables were gradually deserted; many people returned to the ballroom, but many others entered their carriages, and I considered that the latter acted wisely.