On Risler’s other side sat Madame Chebe, the bride’s mother, radiant and gorgeous in her green satin gown, which gleamed like a shield.  Ever since the morning the good woman’s every thought had been as brilliant as that robe of emblematic hue.  At every moment she said to herself:  “My daughter is marrying Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, of Rue des Vieilles Haudriettes!” For, in her mind, it was not Risler alone whom her daughter took for her husband, but the whole sign of the establishment, illustrious in the commercial annals of Paris; and whenever she mentally announced that glorious event, Madame Chebe sat more erect than ever, stretching the silk of the bodice until it almost cracked.

What a contrast to the attitude of Monsieur Chebe, who was seated at a short distance.  In different households, as a general rule, the same causes produce altogether different results.  That little man, with the high forehead of a visionary, as inflated and hollow as a ball, was as fierce in appearance as his wife was radiant.  That was nothing unusual, by the way, for Monsieur Chebe was in a frenzy the whole year long.  On this particular evening, however, he did not wear his customary woe-begone, lack-lustre expression, nor the full-skirted coat, with the pockets sticking out behind, filled to repletion with samples of oil, wine, truffles, or vinegar, according as he happened to be dealing in one or the other of those articles.  His black coat, new and magnificent, made a fitting pendant to the green gown; but unfortunately his thoughts were of the color of his coat.  Why had they not seated him beside the bride, as was his right?  Why had they given his seat to young Fromont?  And there was old Gardinois, the Fromonts’ grandfather, what business had he by Sidonie’s side?  Ah! that was how it was to be!  Everything for the Fromonts and nothing for the Chebes!  And yet people are amazed that there are such things as revolutions!

Luckily the little man had by his side, to vent his anger upon, his friend Delobelle, an old, retired actor, who listened to him with his serene and majestic holiday countenance.

Strangely enough, the bride herself had something of that same expression.  On that pretty and youthful face, which happiness enlivened without making glad, appeared indications of some secret preoccupation; and, at times, the corners of her lips quivered with a smile, as if she were talking to herself.

With that same little smile she replied to the somewhat pronounced pleasantries of Grandfather Gardinois, who sat by her side.

“This Sidonie, on my word!” said the good man, with a laugh.  “When I think that not two months ago she was talking about going into a convent.  We all know what sort of convents such minxes as she go to!  As the saying is in our province:  The Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!”