knowing the exact
truth. Different tales were in circulation. It was whispered that an
elopement had taken place, but no one was certain about anything.
According to the servants, Madame Walter, who would no longer speak to
her future son-in-law, had poisoned herself out of rage the very evening
the match was decided on, after having taken her daughter off to a
convent at midnight. She had been brought back almost dead. Certainly,
she would never get over it. She had now the appearance of an old woman;
her hair had become quite gray, and she had gone in for religion, taking
the Sacrament every Sunday.

At the beginning of September the _Vie Francaise_ announced that the
Baron Du Roy de Cantel had become chief editor, Monsieur Walter
retaining the title of manager. A battalion of well-known writers,
reporters, political editors, art and theatrical critics, detached from
old important papers by dint of monetary influence, were taken on. The
old journalists, the serious and respectable ones, no longer shrugged
their shoulders when speaking of the _Vie Francaise_. Rapid and complete
success had wiped out the contempt of serious writers for the beginnings
of this paper.

The marriage of its chief editor was what is styled a Parisian event,
George Du Roy and the Walters having excited a great deal of curiosity
for some time past. All the people who are written about in the papers
promised themselves to be there.

The event took place on a bright autumn day.

At eight in the morning the sight of the staff of the Madeleine
stretching a broad red carpet down the lofty flight of steps overlooking
the Rue Royale caused passers-by to pause, and announced to the people
of Paris that an important ceremony was about to take place. The clerks
on the way to their offices, the work-girls, the shopmen, paused,
looked, and vaguely speculated about the rich folk who spent so much
money over getting spliced. Towards ten o'clock idlers began to halt.
They would remain for a few minutes, hoping that perhaps it would begin
at once, and then moved away. At eleven squads of police arrived and set
to work almost at once to make the crowd move on, groups forming every
moment. The first guests soon made their appearance--those who wanted to
be well placed for seeing everything. They took the chairs bordering the
main aisles. By degrees came others, ladies in rustling silks, and
serious-looking gentlemen, almost all bald, walking with well-bred a