to the barracks,
the old grave-digger went to the rue Capucin, and we to our beds, where
we slept till eight o'clock the next morning.

VII

Two days afterward I was married to Catherine at Aunt Gredel's at
Quatre Vents. Mr. Goulden represented my father. Zebede was my best
man, and some old comrades remaining from the battalion were also at
the wedding. The next day we were installed in our two little rooms
over the workshop at Father Goulden's, Catherine and I. Many years
have rolled away since then! Mr. Goulden, Aunt Gredel, and the old
comrades have all passed away, and Catherine's hair is as white as
snow! Yet often, even now, when I look at her, those times come back
again, and I see her as she was at twenty, fresh and rosy, I see her
arrange the flower-pots in the chamber-window, I hear her singing to
herself, I see the sun opposite, and then we descend the steep little
staircase and say together, as we go into the workshop: "Good-morning,
Mr. Goulden;" he turns, smiles, and answers, "Good-morning, my
children, good-morning!" Then he kisses Catherine and she commences to
sweep and rub the furniture and prepare the soup, while we examine the
work we have to do during the day.

Ah, those beautiful days, that charming life. What joy in being young
and in having a simple, good, and industrious wife! How our hearts
rejoice, and the future spreads out so far--so far--before us! We
shall never be old; we shall always love each other, and always keep
those we love! We shall always be of good heart; we shall always take
our Sunday walk arm in arm to Bonne-Fontaine; we shall always sit on
the moss in the woods, and hear the bees and May bugs buzzing in the
great trees filled with light; we shall always smile! What a life!
what a life!

And at night we shall go softly home to the nest, as we silently look
at the golden trains which spread over the sky from Wecham to the
forests of Mittelbronn, we shall press each other's hand when we hear
the little clock at Pfalzbourg ring out the "Angelus," and those of all
the villages will respond through the twilight. Oh, youth! oh, life!

All is before me just as it was fifty years ago; but other sparrows and
larks sing and build in the spring, other blossoms whiten the great
apple-trees. And have we changed too, and grown old like the old
people of those days? That alone makes me believe that we shall become
young again, that we shall renew our loves and r