d a scolding, they sent
Josephine down first to mollify. She dawned upon the honest soldier so
radiant, so dazzling in her snowy dress, with her coronet of pearls (an
heirloom), and her bridal veil parted, and the flush of conscious beauty
on her cheek, that instead of scolding her, he actually blurted out,
"Well! by St. Denis it was worth waiting half an hour for."

He recovered a quarter of an hour by making the driver gallop. Then
occasional shrieks issued from the carriage that held the baroness. That
ancient lady feared annihilation: she had not come down from a galloping
age.

They drove into the town, drew up at the mayor's house, were received
with great ceremony by that functionary and Picard, and entered the
house.

When their carriages rattled into the street from the north side,
Colonel Dujardin had already entered it from the south, and was riding
at a foot's pace along the principal street. The motion of his horse now
shook him past endurance. He dismounted at an inn a few doors from the
mayor's house, and determined to do the rest of the short journey on
foot. The landlord bustled about him obsequiously. "You are faint,
colonel; you have travelled too far. Let me order you an excellent
breakfast."

"No. I want a carriage; have you one?"

"I have two; but, unluckily, they are both engaged for the day, and by
people of distinction. Commandant Raynal is married to-day."

"Ah! I wish him joy," said Camille, heartily. He then asked the landlord
to open the window, as he felt rather faint. The landlord insisted on
breakfast, and Camille sat down to an omelet and a bottle of red wine.
Then he lay awhile near the window, revived by the air, and watched
the dear little street he had not seen for years. He felt languid, but
happy, celestially happy.

She was a few doors from him, and neither knew it.

A pen was put into her white hand, and in another moment she had signed
a marriage contract.

"Now to the church," cried the baroness, gayly. To get to the church,
they must pass by the window Camille reclined at.

CHAPTER VIII.

"Oh! there's no time for that," said Raynal. And as the baroness looked
horrified and amazed, Picard explained: "The state marries its citizens
now, with reason: since marriage is a civil contract."

"Marriage a civil contract!" repeated the baroness. "What, is it then no
longer one of the holy sacraments? What horrible impiety shall we come
to next? Unhappy France! Su