“What a pity,” said I to myself, as we left Puygarrig, “that so amiable a creature should be rich, and her portion should attract the suit of a man so unworthy of her!” On the way back to Ille, being at a loss for something to say to Madame de Peyrehorade, whom I thought it good manners to address occasionally, I exclaimed:
“You are great freethinkers in Roussillon! Why, Madame, you are holding a marriage on a Friday! At Paris we are more superstitious; nobody there would dare to take a wife on such a day.”
“For goodness’ sake don’t talk about that to me!” she said. “If it had depended on me alone, we should certainly have chosen another day. But Peyrehorade would have it, and we had to give in to him. I am anxious about it all the same. What if anything happens? There must be some reason for it, for else why is everybody afraid of Friday?”
“Friday!” cried her husband, “that’s Venus’s day! A good day for a marriage! You see, my dear colleague, I can never get away from my Venus. On my honour, it’s because of her that I chose Friday! To-morrow, if you like, before the wedding, we’ll make a little sacrifice to her; we’ll sacrifice two doves, and if I knew where to get some incense....”
“For shame, Peyrehorade!” broke in his wife, scandalized beyond endurance. “Burn incense to an idol! That would be an abomination! Whatever would they say about us in the district?”
“At least,” said M. de Peyrehorade, “you will allow me to place a wreath of roses and lilies on her head:
Manibus date lilia plenis.
You see, sir, the Charter is an empty word. We have not liberty of worship!”
The arrangements for the morrow were settled as follows. Everybody was to be dressed and ready at ten o’clock sharp. After chocolate, we were to drive to Puygarrig. The civil marriage was to take place at the mayor’s office in the village, and the religious ceremony in the chapel at the château. Next was to come a breakfast. After the breakfast we were to pass the time as best we could until seven o’clock. At seven we were to return to Ille, to M. de Peyrehorade’s, where the united families were to sup. The rest followed naturally. As they could not dance, they meant to eat as much as possible.
By eight o’clock I was seated before the Venus, pencil in hand, beginning the head of the statue over again for the twentieth time without being able to catch its expression. M. de Peyrehorade kept coming and going about me, giving me his advice and repeating his Phœnician etymologies; then he disposed some Bengal roses on the pedestal of the statue, and in a tragi-comic voice addressed to it his prayers for the couple who were about to live under his roof. About nine o’clock he went in to dress, and at the same moment M. Alphonse made his appearance, very tight in a new coat, with white gloves, patent-leather boots, chased studs, a rose in his button-hole.