“It is doubtless painful to the parents to part with so fair and so dutiful a child,” resumed the obtuse Peterchen, who rarely saw in any emotion more than its most common-place and vulgar character; “Nature pulls them one way, while the terms of the contract and the progress of our ceremonies pull another.  I have often weaknesses of this sort myself, the most sensitive hearts being the most liable to these attacks.  But my children are the public, and do riot admit of too much of what I may call the detail of sentiment, else, by the soul of Calvin! were I but an indifferent bailiff for Berne!—­Thou art the father of this fair and blushing maiden, and thou her mother?”

“We are these,” returned Balthazar mildly.

“Thou art not of Vevey, or its neighborhood, by thy speech?”

“Of the great canton, mein Herr;” for the answer was in German, these contracted districts possessing nearly as many dialects as there are territorial divisions.  “We are strangers in Vaud.”

“Thou hast not done the worse for marrying thy daughter with a Vevaisan, and, more especially, under the favor of our renowned and liberal Abbaye.  I warrant me thy child will be none the poorer for this compliance with the wishes of those who lead our ceremonies!”

“She will not go portionless to the house of her husband,” returned the father, coloring with secret pride; for to one to whom the chances of life left so few sources of satisfaction, those that were possessed became doubly dear.

“This is well!  A right worthy couple!  And I doubt not, a meet companion will your offspring prove.  Monsieur le Notaire, call off the names of those good people aloud, that they may sign, at least, with a decent parade.”

“It is settled otherwise.” hastily answered the functionary of the quill, who was necessarily in the secret of Christine’s origin, and who had been well bribed to observe discretion.  “It would altogether derange the order and regularity of the proceedings.”

“As thou wilt; for I would have nothing illegal, and least of all, nothing disorderly.  But o’ Heaven’s sake! let us get through with our penmanship, for I hear there are symptoms that the meats are likely to be overbaked.  Canst thou write, good man?”

“Indifferently, mein Herr:  but in a way to make what I will binding before the law.”

“Give the quill to the bride, Mr. Notary, and let us protract the happy event no longer.”

The bailiff here bent his head aside and whispered to an attendant to hurry towards the kitchens and to look to the affairs of the banquet.  Christine took the pen with a trembling hand and pallid cheek, and was about to apply it to the paper, when a sudden cry from the throng diverted the attention of all present to a new matter of interest.

“Who dares thus indecently interrupt this grave scene, and that, too, in so great a presence?” sternly demanded the bailiff.