Fromont and Risler -- Volume 1

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with the same emotional and contented manner, in the same low, deep voice-the voice that is held

g-festival! And yet he had a strong inclination to do so. His happiness stifled him, held him by the throat, prevented the words fro

had reason

one fears lest he may awake suddenly with blinded eyes; but it seemed to him as if this dream would never end. It had begun

ng that day, and how vividly he r

thereal, and dazzling to behold. The organ, the verger, the cure's sermon, the tapers casting their light upon jewels and spring gowns, and the throng of people in the sacristy, the tiny white cloud swallowed up, surrounded, embraced, while the bridegroom distributed hand-shakes among all the leading tradesmen of Paris, who had assembled to do him honor. And the grand crash from the organ at the close, made more solemn by the fact

rgeoise that she was, would not have deemed her daughter legally married without a drive around the lake and a visit to the Cascade. Then the return for dinner, as the lamps were being lighted along the bou

ched that poin

wherein he seemed to see his happiness reflected in every eye. The dinner was drawing near its close. The wave of private conversation flowed around the table. Faces were turned toward one another, black sleev

isler was

ide her veil; she had emerged from her cloud. Now, above the smooth, white silk gown, appeared a pretty face of a less lustrous and softer white, and the crown of hair- beneath that other cr

Fromont, his former employer and his god. He had placed her beside him, and in his manner of speaking to her one could read affection and deference. She was a very young woman, of about t

lematic 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 w

ar 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 unfor

pon, his friend Delobelle, an old, retired actor, who liste

l face, which happiness enlivened without making glad, appeared indications of some secret preoccupat

the somewhat pronounced pleasantries of G

o she was talking about going into a convent. We all know what sort of convents such minxes as sh

he had plenty of that, the rascal-more than all his bourgeois fellow-guests together. Among the very rare persons who inspired a sympathetic feeling in his breast, little Chebe, whom he had known as an

he exhibited the utmost reserve. Their conversation was restricted to the ordinary cour

s of conversations, the completion of a laugh, and in that half-silence Madame Chebe, who had become communicative, observed in a very loud tone to a provincial

, no one has ever been able to f

arty rose and repaire

mpatient, white-gowned damsels, the bridegroom, awed by so great a throng, had taken refuge with his friend Planus-Sigismond Planus, cashier of the house of Fromont for thirty years-in tha

ld friend-I a

ime to say so. Now that he was no longer in dread of weepi

the richest, to say nothing of my poor Frantz, who loved her so. But, no, she preferred her old Risler. And it came about so strangely. For a long time I noticed that she was sad, greatly changed. I felt sure there was some disappointment in love at the bottom of it. Her mother and I looked about, and we cudgelled our brains to find out what it co

salon. They were Risler's bride and his partner, Georges Fromont. Equally young and attractive

, slightly pale, but wi

, paler than

isted upon this marriage. He was dying

ance, gazed at th

he is! How we

he dancers separated, and S

ng? They are looking everywhere f

smiled at Sigismond from the corner of his eye, too overjoyed at feeling the touch of that lit

to smile upon them, Sidonie had a momentary thrill of pride, of satisfied vanity. Unhappily it did not last. In a corner of the room sat a young and attractive woman whom nobody invited to dance, but who looked on at the dances with a placid eye, illumined by all the joy of a first maternity. As soon as he saw her, Risler walked straight to the corner

ied, "Sidonie and I are old friends. We ha

glance strove unsuccessfully t

habit of treating Sidonie as a chil

not two people in the world like Madame Chorche.

But honest Risler saw nothing. The excitement, the dancing, the music, the flowers, the lights made him drunk, made him mad. He believed that every one breathed the same atmos

was prowling darkly between the two doors, more incensed than ever against the Fromonts. Oh! those Fromonts!-How large a place they filled at that wedding! They were all there with their wives, their children, their friends, their friends' friends. One would have said that

o much and who formed the aristocracy of the ball, the president of the Chamber of Commerce, the syndic of the solicitors, a famous chocolate-manufacturer and member of the Corps Legislatif, and the old millionaire Gardi

nologue from Ruy Blas: "Good appetite, Messieurs!" while the guests thronged to the buffet, spread with chocolate and glasses of punch. Inexpensive little costumes were displayed

impossible to induce him to go. Some one must be there to do the honors, deuce take it! And I assure you that the little man assumed the responsibility! He was flush

e, the tired coachman holding the white reins so

splay of magnificence. Sidonie mused in the darkness of the carriage, and Risler, sitting opposite her, even though he no longer said, "I am very happy," continued to think it with all his

d Madame Chebe alighted at her door, which was too narrow for the magnificent green silk frock, so that it vanished in the hall with rustlings of revolt and with all its folds muttering. A few minutes later, a tall, massive portal on the Ru

by a smile of triumph. The wheels revolved less noisily on the fine gravel of a garden, and soon stopped before the stoop of a small house of two floors. It was there that the young Fromonts lived, and Risler and his wife were to take up their abode on the floor above. The house had a

blue lamp hanging from the ceiling, she glanced first of all at the mirror, which gave back her reflection from head to foot, at all her luxurious

le garden against the ancient wall of the former mansion. All about were gloomy, miserable roofs and squalid streets. Suddenly she started. Yonder, in the darkest, the ugliest of all those attics crowding so closely toget

ow on th

or balcony, looking toward the factory. At that moment she fancied that she could see up yonder little Chebe's ragged person, and