ypocrites--being
faithful, you would have been suspected of all vileness--being loving,
you would have been mocked at more bitterly than the soldiers of
Pontius Pilate mocked Christ; but you would have been FREE--free to
indulge your own opinions, for ours is the age of liberty. Yet how much
better for you to have died than have lived till now!

Absorbed in strange, half-morose, half-speculative fancies, I scarcely
heard the close of the solemn service. I was roused by a delicate touch
from my wife, and I woke, as it were, with a start, to hear the
sonorous, crashing chords of the wedding-march in "Lohengrin"
thundering through the air. All was over: my wife was MINE indeed--mine
most thoroughly--mine by the exceptionally close-tied knot of a double
marriage--mine to do as I would with "TILL DEATH SHOULD US PART." How
long, I gravely mused, how long before death could come to do us this
great service? And straightway I began counting, counting certain
spaces of time that must elapse before--I was still absorbed in this
mental arithmetic, even while I mechanically offered my arm to my wife
as we entered the vestry to sign our names in the marriage register. So
occupied was I in my calculations that I nearly caught myself murmuring
certain numbers aloud. I checked this, and recalling my thoughts by a
strong effort, I strove to appear interested and delighted, as I walked
down the aisle with my beautiful bride, through the ranks of admiring
and eager spectators.

On reaching the outer doors of the chapel several flower-girls emptied
their full and fragrant baskets at our feet; and in return, I bade one
of my servants distribute a bag of coins I had brought for the purpose,
knowing from former experience that it would be needed. To tread across
such a heap of flowers required some care, many of the blossoms
clinging to Nina's velvet train--we therefore moved forward slowly.

Just as we had almost reached the carriage, a young girl, with large
laughing eyes set like flashing jewels in her soft oval face, threw
down in my path a cluster of red roses. A sudden fury of impotent
passion possessed me, and I crushed my heel instantly and savagely upon
the crimson blossoms, stamping upon them again and again so violently
that my wife raised her delicate eyebrows in amazement, and the
pressing people who stood round us, shrugged their shoulders, and gazed
at one another with looks of utter bewilderment--while the girl who had
thr