No doubt, Sir, that I was happy.  True, that when the uncouth gendarme finally slammed to the door of our carriage and we restarted on our way, my ears had been unpleasantly tickled by the sound of prolonged and ribald laughter—­laughter which sounded strangely and unpleasantly familiar.  But after a few seconds’ serious reflection I dismissed the matter from my thoughts.  If, as indeed I gravely suspected, it was Fernand Rochez who had striven thus to put a spoke in the wheel of my good fortune, he would certainly not have laughed when I drove triumphantly away with my conquered bride by my side.  And, of course, my ears must have deceived me when they caught the sound of a girl’s merry laugh mingling with the more ribald one of the man.

4.

I have paused purposely, Sir, ere I embark upon the narration of the final stage of this, my life’s adventure.

The chaise was bowling along the banks of the river toward Suresnes.  Presently the driver struck to his right and plunged into the fastnesses of the Bois de Boulogne.  For a while, therefore, we were in utter darkness.  My lovely companion neither moved nor spoke.  Somewhere in the far distance a church clock struck eleven.  One whole hour had gone by since first I had embarked on this great undertaking.

I was excited, feverish.  The beautiful Leah’s silence and tranquillity grated upon my nerves.  I could not understand how she could remain there so placid when her whole life’s happiness had so suddenly, so unexpectedly, been assured.  I became more and more fidgety as time went on.  Soon I felt that I could no longer hold myself in proper control.  Being of an impulsive disposition, this tranquil acceptance of so great a joy became presently intolerable, and, unable to restrain my ardour any longer, I seized that passive bundle of loveliness in my arms.

“Have no fear,” I murmured once again, as I pressed her to my heart.

But my admonition was obviously unnecessary.  The beautiful Leah showed not the slightest sign of fear.  She rested her head against my shoulder and put one arm around my neck.  I was in raptures.

Just then the vehicle swung out of the Bois and once more rattled upon the cobblestones.  This time we were nearing Suresnes.  A vague light, emanating from the lanthorns at the bridge-head, was already faintly visible ahead of us.  Soon it grew brighter.  The next moment we passed immediately beneath the lanthorns.  The interior of the carriage was flooded with light . . . and, Sir, I gave a gasp of unadulterated dismay!  The being whom I held in my arms, whose face was even at that moment raised up to my own, was not the lovely Leah!  It was Sarah, Sir!  Sarah Goldberg, the dour, angular aunt, whose yellow teeth gleamed for one brief moment through her thin lips as she threw me one of those glances of amorous welcome which invariably sent a cold shiver down my spine.  Sarah Goldberg!  I scarce could believe my eyes, and for a moment did indeed think that the elusive, swiftly-vanished light of the bridge-head lanthorns had played my excited senses a weird and cruel trick.  But no!  The very next second proved my disillusionment.  Sarah spoke to me!