he rejoicings over the son and heir!

At this deplorable bit of bucolic wit and hearty taste, Tristram's face
went stern as death; and he bit his lips, while his bride became the
color of the red roses on the table in front of her.

Thus the luncheon passed. And amidst countless hand-shakes of affection,
accelerated by port wine and champagne, the bride and bridegroom,
followed by the land-steward and a chosen few, went to receive and
return the same sort of speeches among the lesser people in the tent.
Here the allusions to marital felicity were even more glaring, and Zara
saw that each time Tristram heard them, an instantaneous gleam of bitter
sarcasm would steal into his eyes. So, worn out at last with the heat in
the tent and the emotions of the day, at about five, the bridegroom was
allowed to conduct his bride to tea in the boudoir of the state rooms.
Thus they were alone, and now was Zara's time to make her confession, if
it ever should come.

Tristram's resolve had held him, nothing could have been more gallingly
cold and disdainful than had been his treatment of her, so perfect, in
its acting for 'the game,' and, so bitter, in the humiliation of the
between times. She would tell him of her mistake. That was all. She must
guard herself against showing any emotion over it.

They each sank down into chairs beside the fire with sighs of relief.

"Good Lord!" he said, as he put his hand to his forehead. "What a
hideous mockery the whole thing is, and not half over yet! I am afraid
you must be tired. You ought to go and rest until dinner--when, please
be very magnificent and wear some of the jewels--part of them have come
down from London on purpose, I think, beyond those you had at
Montfitchet."

"Yes, I will," she answered, listlessly, and began to pour out the tea,
while he sat quite still staring into the fire, a look of utter
weariness and discouragement upon his handsome face.

Everything about the whole thing was hurting him so, all the pleasure he
had taken in the improvements and the things he had done, hoping to
please her; and now, as he saw them about, each one stabbed him afresh.

She gave him his cup without a word. She had remembered from Paris his
tastes in cream and sugar; and then as the icy silence continued, she
could bear it no longer.

"Tristram," she said, in as level a voice as she could. At the sound of
his name he looked at her startled. It was the first time she had ever
used it!