t me," said he, in French, "to present to
you Mme. Gougasse? Madame is the _patronne_ of the Cafe de l'Univers, at
Carcassonne, which doubtless you have frequented, and she is going to do
me the honour of marrying me to-morrow."

[Illustration: ANYTHING LESS CONGRUOUS AS THE BRIDE-ELECT OF THE
DEBONAIR ARISTIDE PUJOL IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO IMAGINE]

The unexpectedness of the announcement took my breath away.

"Good heavens!" said I, in a whisper.

Anyone less congruous as the bride-elect of the debonair Aristide Pujol
it was impossible to imagine. However, it was none of my business. I
raised my hat politely to the lady.

"Madame, I offer you my sincere felicitations. As an entertaining
husband I am sure you will find M. Aristide Pujol without a rival."

"_Je vous remercie, monseigneur_," she replied, in what was obviously
her best company manner. "And if ever you will deign to come again to
the Cafe de l'Univers at Carcassonne we will esteem it a great honour."

"And so you're going to get married to-morrow?" I remarked, by way of
saying something. To congratulate Aristide Pujol on his choice lay
beyond my power of hypocrisy.

"To-morrow," said he, "my dear Amelie will make me the happiest of men."

"We start for Carcassonne by the three-thirty train," said Mme.
Gougasse, pulling a great silver watch from some fold of her person.

"Then there is time," said I, pointing to a little weather-beaten cafe
in the square, "to drink a glass to your happiness."

"_Bien volontiers_," said the lady.

"_Pardon, chere amie_," Aristide interposed, quickly. "Unless
monseigneur and I start at once for Montpellier, I shall not have time
to transact my little affairs before your train arrives there."

Parenthetically, I must remark that all trains going from Aigues-Mortes
to Carcassonne must stop at Montpellier.

"That's true," she agreed, in a hesitating manner. "But----"

"But, idol of my heart, though I am overcome with grief at the idea of
leaving you for two little hours, it is a question of four thousand
francs. Four thousand francs are not picked up every day in the street.
It's a lot of money."

Mme. Gougasse's little eyes glittered.

"_Bien sur._ And it's quite settled?"

"Absolutely."

"And it will be all for me?"

"Half," said Aristide.

"You promised all to me for the redecoration of the ceiling of the
cafe."

"Three thousand will be sufficient, dear angel. What? I know these
contra