"
"Yes, father, I swear it."
At these words, spoken in a gentle voice, the old man kissed his
daughter on both cheeks. That night the lovers slept as soundly as
Monsieur and Madame Guillaume.
Some few months after this memorable Sunday the high altar of
Saint-Leu was the scene of two very different weddings. Augustine and
Theodore appeared in all the radiance of happiness, their eyes beaming
with love, dressed with elegance, while a fine carriage waited for
them. Virginie, who had come in a good hired fly with the rest of the
family, humbly followed her younger sister, dressed in the simplest
fashion like a shadow necessary to the harmony of the picture.
Monsieur Guillaume had exerted himself to the utmost in the church to
get Virginie married before Augustine, but the priests, high and low,
persisted in addressing the more elegant of the two brides. He heard
some of his neighbors highly approving the good sense of Mademoiselle
Virginie, who was making, as they said, the more substantial match,
and remaining faithful to the neighborhood; while they fired a few
taunts, prompted by envy of Augustine, who was marrying an artist and
a man of rank; adding, with a sort of dismay, that if the Guillaumes
were ambitious, there was an end to the business. An old fan-maker
having remarked that such a prodigal would soon bring his wife to
beggary, father Guillaume prided himself _in petto_ for his prudence
in the matter of marriage settlements.
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