Micheline was smiling.  She was enjoying herself.  All this homely gayety, of which she was the cause, made her feel happy.  She enjoyed the pleasure of those around her.  With her compassionate eyes she thanked her mother in the distance for having prepared this fete in honor of her marriage.  The clarionet, violin, and cornet sounded a last modulation, then the final cadence put an end to the bounds of the dances.  Each took his lady to her place—­the mayor with pompous gait, Serge with as much grace as if he had been at an ambassador’s ball and was leading a young lady of highest rank.

Madame Desvarennes was suddenly surrounded; cheers resounded, the band struck up the Marseillaise.

“Let us escape,” said Serge, “because these good people will think nothing of carrying us in triumph.”

And leading away his mother-in-law and his wife, he left the ballroom followed by cheers.

Outside they all three walked in silence.  The night air was delightful after coming out of that furnace.  The cheering had ceased, and the orchestra was playing a polka.  Micheline had taken her husband’s arm.

They went along slowly, and close together.  Not a word was exchanged; they all three seemed to be listening within themselves.  When they reached the house, they went up the steps leading into the greenhouse, which served also as a boudoir to Madame Desvarennes.

The atmosphere was still warm and scented, the lamps still burning.  The guests had left; Micheline looked round.  The remembrance of this happy evening, which had been the crowning of her happiness, filled her heart with emotion.  Turning toward her mother with a radiant face, she cried: 

“Ah! mamma!  I am so happy,” and threw her arms around her.

Serge started at this cry.  Two tears came to his eyes, and looking a little pale, he stretched out to Madame Desvarennes his hands, which she felt trembling in hers, and said: 

“Thank you.”

Madame Desvarennes gazed at him for a moment.  She did not see the shadow of a wicked thought on his brow.  He was sincerely affected, truly grateful.  The idea occurred to her that Jeanne had deceived her, or had deceived herself, and that Serge had not loved her.  A feeling of relief took possession of her.  But distrust had unfortunately entered her mind.  She put away that flattering hope.  And giving her son-in-law such a look, which, had he been less moved, he would have understood, she murmured,

“We shall see.”

     ETEXT editor’s bookmarks: 

     A uniform is the only garb which can hide poverty honorably
     Forget a dream and accept a reality
     I don’t pay myself with words
     Implacable self-interest which is the law of the world
     In life it is only nonsense that is common-sense
     Is a man ever poor when he has two arms? 
     Is it by law only that you wish to keep me?