was fond of a bit of fun, tried
to enliven matters a little, and at the beginning of the dessert she
exclaimed: "I say, Philip, do sing us something." The neighbors in their
street considered that he had the finest voice in all Havre.

The bridegroom got up, smiled, and, turning to his sister-in-law, from
politeness and gallantry, tried to think of something suitable for
the occasion, something serious and correct, to harmonize with the
seriousness of the repast.

Anna had a satisfied look on her face, and leaned back in her chair to
listen, and all assumed looks of attention, though prepared to smile
should smiles he called for.

The singer announced "The Accursed Bread," and, extending his right arm,
which made his coat ruck up into his neck, he began.

It was decidedly long, three verses of eight lines each, with the last
line and the last but one repeated twice.

All went well for the first two verses; they were the usual commonplaces
about bread gained by honest labor and by dishonesty. The aunt and the
bride wept outright. The cook, who was present, at the end of the first
verse looked at a roll which she held in her hand, with streaming eyes,
as if it applied to her, while all applauded vigorously. At the end of
the second verse the two servants, who were standing with their backs to
the wall, joined loudly in the chorus, and the aunt and the bride wept
outright.

Daddy Taille blew his nose with the noise of a trombone, and old
Touchard brandished a whole loaf half over the table, and the cook shed
silent tears on the crust which she was still holding.

Amid the general emotion Monsieur Sauvetanin said:

"That is the right sort of song; very different from the nasty, risky
things one generally hears at weddings."

Anna, who was visibly affected, kissed her hand to her sister and
pointed to her husband with an affectionate nod, as if to congratulate
her.

Intoxicated by his success, the young man continued, and unfortunately
the last verse contained words about the "bread of dishonor" gained by
young girls who had been led astray. No one took up the refrain about
this bread, supposed to be eaten with tears, except old Touchard and the
two servants. Anna had grown deadly pale and cast down her eyes, while
the bridegroom looked from one to the other without understanding the
reason for this sudden coldness, and the cook hastily dropped the crust
as if it were poisoned.

Monsieur Sauvetanin said solemn