I could have wished that M. Alphonse had been more modest, and I was almost pained at the humiliation of his rival.
The Spanish giant felt the insult keenly. I saw him turn pale under his sunburnt skin. He looked at his racket gloomily and set his teeth; then, in a choked voice, he said almost inaudibly, “Me lo pagarás.”
M. de Peyrehorade’s voice disturbed his son’s triumph; my host, much surprised not to find him presiding over the harnessing of the new barouche, was still more surprised to see him all in a sweat, racket in hand. M. Alphonse ran to the house, washed his hands and face, put his new coat and patent-leather shoes on again, and five minutes later we were off at a brisk trot on the way to Puygarrig. All the tennis-players of the town and a great number of on-lookers followed us with cries of joy. The strong horses which drew us had difficulty in keeping ahead of those intrepid Catalans.
We were at Puygarrig, and the procession was about to set out for the mayor’s office, when M. Alphonse struck his forehead, and said to me in an undertone:
“How stupid of me! I’ve forgotten the ring! It’s on the finger of the Venus, the Devil take her! What ever you do, don’t mention it to my mother. Perhaps she’ll not notice anything.”
“You could send somebody,” I said.
“Bah! My man is staying behind at Ille. And those fellows here, I don’t much trust them. Twelve hundred francs worth of diamonds! That would be a temptation to a good many of them. Besides, what would they think here of my absent-mindedness? They’d make fine fun of me. They’d call me the statue’s husband.... I just hope nobody steals it from me! Fortunately the idol has put a fear on my rogues. They don’t dare go within arm’s length of it. Bah! It doesn’t matter; I’ve got another ring.” The two ceremonies, civil and religious, were performed with due pomp; and Mademoiselle de Puygarrig received a little Paris dress-maker’s ring, never suspecting that her bridegroom was making the sacrifice of a love-token to her. Then we sat down to table, where we drank, ate, even sang, all at great length. I felt for the bride in the coarse merriment which was resounding about her; still, she kept a better countenance than I had expected, and her embarrassment had nothing either of awkwardness or affectation about it.
Perhaps courage comes with difficult situations.
The breakfast having terminated when it pleased Heaven, it was four o’clock; the men went to walk in the park, which was magnificent, or to watch the Puygarrig peasant-girls dancing on the château lawn arrayed in their holiday clothes. In this way we spent some hours. Meanwhile the women were very busy with the bride, who was making them admire her wedding-presents. Then she changed her dress, and I noticed that she covered up her fine hair with a cap and a feathered hat, for women are in a great hurry until they have assumed as soon as possible the ornaments which custom forbids them to wear as long as they are unmarried.
It was almost eight o’clock when they set about starting for Ille. But first there was a pathetic scene. Mademoiselle de Puygarrig’s aunt, who had been a mother to her, a very aged and very devout woman, was not to go to town with us. At her niece’s going away she made a touching address to her on the duties of a wife, a discourse which resulted in a torrent of tears and never-ending embraces. M. de Peyrehorade compared this parting to the Rape of the Sabines. We set out, however, and on the way we all did our utmost to distract the bride and make her laugh; but in vain.