the daylight, he was just in the act of
kissing her on the cheek.

"Well! You're a nice couple; you don't stand on ceremony," said Madame
Lorilleux with a scandalized air.

Bibi-the-Smoker pretended to be furious. He muttered between his teeth.
"You made such a noise together! I wasn't even able to count the steps."

But Monsieur Madinier was already up on the platform, pointing out the
different monuments. Neither Madame Fauconnier nor Mademoiselle Remanjou
would on any consideration leave the staircase. The thought of the
pavement below made their blood curdle, and they contented themselves
with glancing out of the little door. Madame Lerat, who was bolder, went
round the narrow terrace, keeping close to the bronze dome; but, _mon
Dieu_, it gave one a rude emotion to think that one only had to slip
off. The men were a little paler than usual as they stared down at the
square below. You would think you were up in mid-air, detached from
everything. No, it wasn't fun, it froze your very insides.

Monsieur Madinier told them to raise their eyes and look straight
into the distance to avoid feeling dizzy. He went on pointing out the
Invalides, the Pantheon, Notre Dame and the Montmartre hill. Madame
Lorilleux asked if they could see the place where they were to have
dinner, the Silver Windmill on the Boulevard de la Chapelle. For ten
minutes they tried to see it, even arguing about it. Everyone had their
own idea where it was.

"It wasn't worth while coming up here to bite each other's noses off,"
said Boche, angrily as he turned to descend the staircase.

The wedding party went down, unspeaking and sulky, awakening no other
sound beyond that of shoes clanking on the stone steps. When it reached
the bottom, Monsieur Madinier wished to pay; but Coupeau would not
permit him, and hastened to place twenty-four sous into the keeper's
hand, two sous for each person. So they returned by the Boulevards and
the Faubourg du Poissonniers. Coupeau, however, considered that their
outing could not end like that. He bundled them all into a wineshop
where they took some vermouth.

The repast was ordered for six o'clock. At the Silver Windmill, they
had been waiting for the wedding party for a good twenty minutes. Madame
Boche, who had got a lady living in the same house to attend to her
duties for the evening, was conversing with mother Coupeau in the first
floor room, in front of the table, which was all laid out; and the two
youn