forward with a swinging gait, one behind
the other, without uttering a word, moving cautiously, for fear of losing
the road which was-hidden beneath the flat, uniform, uninterrupted
stretch of snow.

As they approached the farmhouses they saw one or two persons waiting to
join them, and the procession went on without stopping and wound its way
forward, following the invisible outlines of the road, so that it
resembled a living chaplet of black beads undulating through the white
countryside.

In front of the bride's door a large group was stamping up and down the
open space awaiting the bridegroom. When he appeared they gave him a loud
greeting, and presently Celeste came forth from her room, clad in a blue
dress, her shoulders covered with a small red shawl and her head adorned
with orange flowers.

But every one asked Cesaire:

"Where's your father?"

He replied with embarrassment:

"He couldn't move on account of the pains."

And the farmers tossed their heads with a sly, incredulous air.

They directed their steps toward the mayor's office. Behind the pair
about to be wedded a peasant woman carried Victor's child, as if it were
going to be baptized; and the risen, in pairs now, with arms linked,
walked through the snow with the movements of a sloop at sea.

After having been united by the mayor in the little municipal house the
pair were made one by the cure, in his turn, in the modest house of God.
He blessed their union by promising them fruitfulness, then he preached
to them on the matrimonial virtues, the simple and healthful virtues of
the country, work, concord and fidelity, while the child, who was cold,
began to fret behind the bride.

As soon as the couple reappeared on the threshold of the church shots
were discharged from the ditch of the cemetery. Only the barrels of the
guns could be seen whence came forth rapid jets of smoke; then a head
could be seen gazing at the procession. It was Victor Lecoq celebrating
the marriage of his old sweetheart, wishing her happiness and sending her
his good wishes with explosions of powder. He had employed some friends
of his, five or six laboring men, for these salvos of musketry. It was
considered a nice attention.

The repast was given in Polyte Cacheprune's inn. Twenty covers were laid
in the great hall where people dined on market days, and the big leg of
mutton turning before the spit, the fowls browned under their own gravy,
the chitterlings sputter