

BY
EMILE ZQLA


New York


BENJ. R. TUCKER, Publisher


1 893


A

“- $94.
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MODERN MARRIAGE
BY
EMILE ZOLA
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY
BENJ. R. TUCKER
NEW YORK
BENJ. R. TUCKER, PUBLISHER
1893
COPYRIGHT,
BY BEN]. R. TUCKER,
1893.
L Lav. bmmcsl'
MODERN MARRIAGE.
N the seventeenth century love, in
. France, is a plumed sez'g’neur, mag-
niﬁcently dressed, Who advances in the
salons, preceded by slow music. He is
governed by a very complex ‘etiquette,
never risking a step that has not been
settled upon in advance. Moreover, he
remains thoroughly noble, deliberately
tender, properly joyful. In the eighteenth
century love is a scapegrace Who uncovers
his breast. He loves as he laughs, for the
pleasure of love and laughter, breakfast
ing With a blonde, dining with a brunette,
treating Women as good goddesses, Whose
open hands distribute pleasure to all their
devotees. A breeze of sensuality passes
over entire society, leads the round of
shepherdesses and nymphs, of uncovered
necks, thrilling beneath laces; adorable
4 MODERN MARRIAGE.
epoch when ﬂesh was queen, an era of
great enjoyment Whose distant breath
comes to us, warm even yet, with the odor
of loose-ﬂovving hair. In the nineteenth
century love is a sedate youth, as correct
as a notary, owning government bonds.
He goes into society or sells something .in
a shop. Politics occupies him, business
ﬁlls his day, from nine in the morning till
six in the evening. As for his nights, he
gives them to practical vice, to a mistress
whom he pays or to a legitimate wife who
pays him.
Thus, then, the heroic love of the seven-
teenth century, the sensual love of the
eighteenth, has become the positive love
to be dealt with expeditiously, as in a
stock-exchange transaction. I heard a
manufacturer complain lately that no one
had yet invented a machine for making
children. They make machines for thresh-
ing wheat, for weaving cloth, for replacing
human muscles by wheel-work in all sorts
of tasks. The day when a machine shall
MODERN MARRIAGE. 5
love for them, the great laborers of the
century, who give each of their minutes
to modern activity, will save time and
become all the ﬁercer and more virile in
the battle of life. Since the terrible shak-
ing-up of the Revolution, men in France
have never recovered the leisure to think
of Women. Under Napoleon I the sound
of cannon prevented lovers from hearing
each other. During the Restoration and
the Monarchy of July a furious desire for
wealth took possession of society. Final-
ly the reign of Napoleon III only increased
the ' appetite for money, Without even
bringing an original vice, a new debauch-
ery. And there is another cause, —science,
steam, electricity, all the discoveries of
these last ﬁfty'years. One should see the
modern man, with his manifold occupa-
tions, living outside, devoured by the
necessity of maintaining his fortune and
adding to it, his mind absorbed by ever-
recurring problems, his ﬂesh benumbed by
the fatigue of his daily battle, himself
6 MODERN MARRIAGE.
become nothing but gearing in the gigan-
tic social machine in full operation. ' He
keeps mistresses, as one keeps horses, for
the sake of exercise. If he marries, it is
because marriage has become a transaction
like another, and, if he has children, ‘it is
because his wife wanted them. ‘
There is another cause of the disagree-
able marriages of to-day, upon which I
wish to insist, before coming to examples.
This cause is the deep ditch which educa-
tion and instruction dig between our girls
and boys from childhood. I take little
Marie and little Pierre. Up to the age of
six or seven they are allowed to play to-'
gether. Their mothers are friends, they
are on familiar terms, they roll about to-
gether in the corners without shame. But,
at the age of seven society separates them
and takes possession of them. Pierre is
shut up in a boarding-school, where they
exert themselves in ﬁlling his cranium
with a résumé of all human knowledge;
later he enters special schools, chooses a
MODERN MARRIAGE. '7
career, becomes a man. Left to himself,
let loose amid good and evil during
this long apprenticeship of existence,
he has touched elbows with basenesses,
tasted joys and sorrows, and had an ex-
perience of men and things. Marie, on the
contrary, has passed all this time cloistered
in her mother’s apartments; they have
taught her all that a well~bred young girl ~
should know: expurgated literature and
history, geography,.arithmetic, the cate-
chism; she can also play the piano, dance,
and sketch landscapes with two crayons.
Consequently Marie knows nothing of the
world, which she has seen only through
the window; and even the window has
been closed, whenever life became too
stirring in the street. Never has she
risked herself alone upon a sidewalk.
They have carefully watched her, like a
hot-house plant, providing her sparingly
with air and light, developing her in arti-
ﬁcial surroundings, far from all contact.
And now I imagine that, ten or twelve
8 MODERN MARRIAGE.
years‘ later, Pierre and Marie meet again.
They have become strangers, the meeting
is inevitably full of embarrassment. They
no longer address each other familiarly,
no longer romp together in the corners.
She, blushing, is ill at ease, confronted
with the unknown which he brings. He
feels the torrent of life between them,
cruel truths, of which he dares not speak
aloud. What could they say to each
other? They speak a different language,
are no longer similar creatures‘. They are
reduced to the commonplace of current
conversation, each on the defensive, al-
most enemies, lying already to each other.
Certainly I do not pretend that our sons
and daughters should be allowed to grow
up together like the weeds in our gardens.
The question of this double education is
too large for a simple observer. I content
myself with pointing out the state of
things that exists: our sons know every-
thing, our daughters know nothing. One-
of my friends has often described to me
MODERN MARRIAGE. 9
the strange sensation which he felt, dur-
ing his youth, when he found that his
sisters were gradually becoming strangers
to him. Each year, on coming back from
school, he felt the chasm deeper, the cold
ness greater. At last one day he found
that he had nothing to say to them. And
when he had embraced them with all his
heart, there was nothing for him to do but
to take his hat and go away. What will
it be, then, in the important affair of mar-
riage ‘4 There the two worlds meet with an
inevitable shock, and the collision always
threatens to crush the woman or the man.
Pierre marries Marie, without a chance to
know her, without a chance to be known
by her; for a mutual trial is not allowable.
The young woman’s family is generally
glad to get her settled at last. It hands
her over to the young man, begging him
to notice that it delivers her to him in
good condition, intact, as a bride should
be. Now the young woman will be
watched over by her husband. So here is
10 MODERN MARRIAGE.
, .
Marie thrown suddenly into love, into life,
into the secrets so long concealed. Min-
' ute by minute the unknown is revealed.
The shock is sometimes of long duration
with the best couples. But the worst of it
is that the antagonism of the two educa-
tions persists. If the husband does not
remodel the wife to suit him, she will
remain forever a stranger to him, with her
beliefs, the recesses of her nature, the in—
curable nonsense of her education. What
a strange idea this, -—of dividing humanity
into two camps, the men on one side, the
women on the other, and then, after hav-
ing armed the two camps against each
other, uniting them with the words: Live
in peace! '
In short, the man of these days has no
time to love, and he marries his wife with-
out knowing her, without being known by
her. These are the two distinctive char-
acteristics of modern marriage. I avoid
complicating the‘ general idea by further
speciﬁcation, and I pass to examples.
I.
The Count Maxime de la Roche-Mablon
is thirty-two. He belongs to one of the
oldest families of Anjou. His father was
a senator under the Empire, without
having abandoned, he said, a single jot
of his Legitimist convictions. The la
Roche-Mablons, moreover, did not lose a
foot of land during the emigration, and
they are still cited among the great land-
owners of France.‘ As for Maxime, he
has led a ﬁne life during his youth; ﬁrst
he enlisted as one of the Pope’s zouaves,
and then returned to Paris, where he
started a rapid pace; he has gambled, has
had mistresses, has fought a duel, but
withal has failed to attract public atten-
tion. He is a tall blonde youth, a ﬁne
horseman, of average intelligence, without
extreme passions, and who thinks now of
settling down by entering upon a diplo-
matic career.
12 MODERN MARRIAGE.
The controlling inﬂuence in the Roche_
Mablon family is an aunt, the Baroness
de Bussiere, a stirring old lady, moving
in the ﬁrst rank of academic and political
society. As soon as her nephew Maxime
conﬁdes his plans to her, she exclaims
that ﬁrst he must marry, marriage being
the foundation of all serious careers.
Maxime has no grave objection to mar-
riage. He has not contemplated such a
step, he would prefer to remain a bache;
lor; but then, if it is absolutely necessary
for him to marry in order to maintain his
position in the world, he will submit to
this formality as he would to any other.
Only he confesses with a laugh that, hav-
ing no love of the heart, in vain does he
ransack his memory: all the young girls
with whom he has danced in the salons
seem to him to have the same white dress
and the same smile. Madame de Bussiere
is delighted. She takes the whole aﬁair
upon herself.
Two days later the Baroness speaks to
MODERN MARRIAGE. 13
Maxime of Mademoiselle Henriette de
Salneuve. A considerable fortune, of the
old nobility of Normandy, perfect ﬁtness
on both sides. And she dwells upon the
correct aspect of this union. It would be
impossible to ﬁnd a match better satis-
fying social requirements. It will be one
of those marriages which astonish nobody.
Maxime tosses his head with an air of
compliance. In fact, all this seems very
reasonable to him. The names are of
' equal value, the fortunes almost the same,
the family connections promise to be of
great advantage should he persist in his
design of entering diplomacy.
“ She is a blonde, I believe 2 ” he ﬁnally
asks. ‘
“No, a brunette,” answers the Baro-
ness; “that is, I don’t exactly know.”
However, it matters little. It is certain,
at any rate, that Henriette is nineteen.
Maxime believes that he has danced with
her, unless perchance it was with her
younger sister. They say nothing of her
14 MODERN MARRIAGE.
education, it is useless: she has been
brought up by her mother, and that is
enough. As for her character, there
could be no question: no one knew it.
Madame de Bussiere declares that she
once heard her play a Chopin waltz with
much expression. And, for the rest, they
were to meet that evening in a neutral
salon. '
When Maxime, in the evening, sees
Mademoiselle de Salneuve, he is greatly
surprised to ﬁnd her pretty. He dances
with her, compliments her on her fan,
receives as thanks a smile. A fortnight
later the formal request is made, and the
contract discussed in presence of the
notaries. Maxime has seen Henriette ﬁve
times. She is really very good-looking,
with a white skin and a round ﬁgure, and
she will know how to dress when she can
discard her young girl’s costumes. More-
over she seems to love music, detests the
odor of musk, has had a friend named
Claire and who is dead. That is all.
MODERN MARRIAGE. 15
Maxime, however, thinks it enough: she
is a Salneuve, he takes her from the
hands of a rigid. mother. Later they will
have time enough to get acquainted. In
the meantime the thought of her is not
displeasing. He is not positively in love,
but he is not sorry that she is agreeable
to the eye, because, though she had hap-
pened to be ugly, he evidently would
have married her just the same.
A week before the marriage the young
Count winds up his bachelor life. He is
then with the grand Antonia, formerly a
circus rider who has returned from Brazil
covered with diamonds. He renews her
furniture and breaks with her, in full
friendship, after a supper at which they
drink to his conjugal happiness. He pays
the few debts that he has, discharges his
'valet, burns his useless letters, orders the
windows opened that his house may have
an airing. And he is ready. Yet, in the
depths of his being, there are hours of his
life which he preserves, and on which he
16 MODERN MARRIAGE.
deems it sufﬁcient to have closed the
doors of his heart forever.
The notaries of the two families‘ have
'drawn up the contract. All this low
affair of money has been handed over to
them. In short, nothing could be sim-
pler, the fortunes of both parties are
known, the marriage must take place
under the dotal Tégz'me. During the read-
ing of the contract the two families re-
main silent; then they sign, without a
remark, passing the pen with smiles.
And they talk of something else, of a
charity festival which the Baroness has in
view, of a sermon in which Father Dulac
has really shown much talent.
The civil marriage takes place on a
Monday, a day on which marriages are
unusual at the mayor’s oﬂice. The bride
wears a very simple gray silk dress, the
bridegroom a frock coat and light panta-
loons. Not an invitation has been sent
out; no one is present but the family and
the four witnesses, personages of consid-
MODERN MARRIAGE. 17
erable importance. While the mayor is
reading the articles of the code, Maxime’s
eyes meet Henriette’ s, and both smile.
What a barbarous language, this lan-
guage of the law! Really, then, is mar-
riage such a terrible thing as that? They
say, one after the other, the solemn “ yes,”
I without the slightest emotion, the mayor
being a little man almost hump-backed,
whose puny person is lacking in majesty.
The Baroness, in a sober costume, surveys
the hall through her eye-glasses and
decides that the law is very poorly
housed. As they depart, Maxime and
Henriette leave each a thousand francs
for the poor.
But all the pomp, all the tears of
emotion, are saved for the religious cer-
emony. Not to be confounded with
common weddings, they have selected a
private church, the little chapel of the
Missions. This gives the marriage at
‘once a perfume of superior piety. Mon-
seigneur Félibien, a bishop from the
18 ' Mon ERN MARRIAGE.
South, a distant relative of the Salneuves,
is to give the nuptial benediction.
When the great day arrives, the chapel
'is found to be too small; three neigh-
boring streets are blocked with carriages;
within, in the dim light, there is a rustling
of rich stuffs, a discreet murmur of voices.
Carpets have been spread everywhere.
There are ﬁve rows of armchairs before
the altar. All the nobility of France is
there, at home, with its God. Meanwhile,
Maxime, in an irreproachable dress-coat,
looks a little pale. Henriette arrives, all
white, in a cloud of tulle; she too is much
moved; she has red eyes, she has wept.
When Monseigneur Félibien outspreads
his hands above their heads, both remain
bowed for some seconds, with ~‘a fervor
which produces the best impression.
Then the bishop speaks of the duties of
the married, in a singing voice. And the
family wipe away their tears, Madame
de Bussiere especially, who has been very
unfortunate in her domestic affairs.
MODERN MARRIAGE. 19
Then the ceremony ends amid the odors
of incense and the magniﬁcence of lighted
candles. It is no bourgeois luxury, but
a supreme distinction, reﬁning religion
for the use of the well-born. Up to the
last shaking of hands, after the signing
of the documents, the church remains a
salon.
In the evening they dine as a family,
doors and 'windows closed, And sudden-
ly toward midnight, when Henriette is
shivering in her marriage-bed, with her'
face turned to the wall, she feels Maxime
imprint a kiss upon her hair. He has
entered noiselessly, after the parents.
She utters a cry, begs him to leave her
alone. He smiles, treats her as a child
whom one endeavors to reassure. He is
toov gallant a man not to show at ﬁrst all
possible consideration. But he knows
women and how to proceed with them.
So ‘he remains there, kissing her hands,
caressing her with his voice. She need
not be afraid; ' is he not her husband,
20 MODERN MARRIAGE.
must he not watch over her dear exis-
tence? Then, as she gets more and more
frightened and begins to sob, calling for
her mother, he thinks it time to hurry
matters a little, to keep the situation
from becoming ridiculous. However, he
remains a man of the world, removes the
lamp, has a timely recollection of the way
in which he began with the little Laurence,
of the Folies, who did not want him, af-
ter a supper. Henriette is much better
bred than Laurence; she does not scratch
or kick him. Scarcely does she struggle,
in a shudder of fright; and she belongs to
him, weeping, feverish, not daring to Open
her eyes. All night she weeps, burying
her lips in the pillow, that he may not
hear her. This man stretched beside her
ﬁlls her with repugnance and terror. 'Ah!
what a horrible thing! why was she never
told of this? she would not have married.
This marital rape, her long youth of
rigidity and ignorance ‘ending in this
brutal initiation, seems to her like an
MODERN MARRIAGE. 21
irreparable misfortune, for which she can
never be consoled.
Fourteen months later Monsieur never
enters Madame’s chamber. Their honey-
moon lasted three weeks. The cause of
the rupture was very delicate. Maxime,
accustomed to the grand Antonia, wished
to make a mistress of Henriette; and the
latter, her senses still asleep, and cold by
nature, refused to gratify his caprices.
On the other hand, they discovered, from
the second day, that they would never
get along together. Maxime is of a san-
guine, violent, and stubborn tempera-
ment; Henriette has a great languor, an
enervating tranquillity of movement,
while, to say the least, as stubborn as
Maxime. Consequently they accuse each
other of foul actions. But, as persons of
their rank must always save appearances,
they live on terms of great politeness.
They inquire after each other’s health
every morning and leave each other at
night wit-h a ceremonious bow. They
22 MODERN MARRIAGE.
are greater strangers than if they lived
thousands of miles apart, though their
chambers are separated only by a salon.
Meanwhile Maxime has gone back to
the society of Antonia. He has entirely
abandoned the idea of entering diplo-
macy. It was a stupid idea. A la
Roche-Mablon has no desire to compro-
mise himself in politics, in these days of
democratic hubbub. Sometimes it makes
him smile, when he meets the Baroness
de Bussiére, to reﬂect that he has mar-
ried in such an absolutely useless fashion.
However, he regrets nothing. Title, for-
tune, all are there. Again he takes a
rapid pace, spends his nights at the club,
leads the high life of a gentleman of a
great race. _ -
At ﬁrst Henriette found her life very
tiresome. Now she keenly relishes the
liberty of marriage. She orders her car-
riage ten times a day, frequents the
shops, goes to see her friends, enjoys
society. She has all the privileges of a
MODERN MARRIAGE. 23 .
young widow. So far her great tranquil-
lity of temperament has saved her from
serious missteps. At most she permits a
kiss upon her ﬁngers. But there are
hours when she thinks herself very silly.
And she is steadily debating with herself
whether she shall take a lover next
' winter.
II.
Monsieur Jules Beadgrand is the son of
the celebrated Beaugrand, the lawyer, the
celebrated orator of our political assem-
blies. Antoine Beaugrand, the grand-
father, was a peaceable bourgeois of
Angers, belonging to a family of notaries
highly esteemed inhis province. He had
not been a success as a notary, and he con-
sumed his income quietly. His eldest son,
the celebrated Beaugrand, very active and
very ambitious, has made, on the contrary,
a ﬁne fortune. As for Jules Beaugrand,
he has the grand aims of his father, the
24 MODERN MARRIAGE.
vanity of a high position, the desire for
princely luxury. -Unfortunately he has
reached the age of thirty, and is beginning
to have a sense of his mediocrity. At ﬁrst
he contemplated a seat in the Chamber,
Oratorical successes, a cabinet-minister’s
portfolio at the ﬁrst governmental crisis.
But, in the young lawyers’ debating so-
ciety, where he made a trial of his elo-
quence, he found himself afflicted with an
intolerable stammer, a laziness of ideas
and words, which placed political tri-
umphs entirely out of the question. Then
he hesitated for a moment, reﬂecting that
perhaps he had better enter the ﬁeld of
industry. But the special studies fright-
ened him. And ﬁnally he has decided
simply on an attorney’s ofﬁce. His father,
to whom he was a great embarrassment,
has bought for him at a high price one of
the best oﬂices, out of which the last oc-
cupant made a couple of millions.
For six months, then, Jules has been an
attorney. The ofﬁce is located in gloomy
MODERN MARRIAGE. 25
apartments in the Rue Sainte—Anne. But
he lives in a house in the Rue d’Amster-'
dam, spends his evenings in society, col-
lects pictures, ignores as far as possible
the fact that he is an attorney. Mean-
while he ﬁnds that fortune comes slowly.
He would like about him what he lacks,—
an increase of luxury, a weekly dinner,
for instance, given to personages of import-
ance, or else an open salon every Tuesday‘
evening, frequented by his father’s politi-
cal friends. He even persuades himself
that a grander style of living, receptions,
ﬁve horses in his stable, in short, an en~
,largement of his whole establishment,
would be an excellent way of doubling his-
practice.
“Marry,” says his father, whose advice
he asks, “a wife will bring you diétino'
tion, éclat. Take a rich one, for a wife
under such conditions is a great expense.
There is Mademoisellev Desvignes, the man-
' ufacturer’s daughter. She has a dowry
of a million. rl‘here’s your chance.”
26 MODERN MARRIAGE.
Jules does not hurry, but lets the idea
ripen. Undoubtedly a marriage would
establish his position; but it is a serious
matter, not to be decided upon lightly.
He weighs, therefore, the fortunes around
him. His father, with his vision of a
superior man, was right. Mademoiselle
Marguerite Desvignes oﬁers the most
favorable opportunity. Then he gathers
. exact information regarding the pros-
perity of the Desvignes manufactory.
He even skilfully draws out the family
notary. The father gives, in truth, a
million; perhaps he would go to twelve
hundred thousand francs. If the father
gives twelve hundred thousand francs,‘
Jules is decided: he will marry.
'_ For nearly three months the negotia-
tion 1 re carried on with tact. The cele-
brate" Beaugrand plays a decisive role.
He resumes his relations with Desvignes,
one of his former colleagues in the Con-I
stituent, whom he gradually dazzles, in-
ducing him to offer his daughter ‘with,
twelve hundred thousand francs.
MODERN MARRIAGE. 27
“I have him!” he says to Jules with
a laugh. “Now you can make your ad-
vances.”
Jules used to know Marguerite, when
she was a child; the two families passed
the summer in the country, near Fon—
tainebleau, and were neighbors. Mar-
guerite is already twenty-ﬁve. But,
Great God! how ugly he ﬁnds her, now
that he sees her again. To be sure she
never was a beauty; formerly she was as
black as a tinker; but now she is almost
hump-backed, and one of her eyes is
larger than the other. But, after all, she
is said to be the most agreeable girl in
the world, very witty, and extraordin~
arily exacting in respect to the quali-
ties which she expects in a man; she
has refused the ﬁnest offers, which ex-
plains why she has so long remained-
single with her million. When J ules-
leaves her after the ﬁrst meeting, he de-
clares her very good-looking; she dresses
delightfully, talks on all subjects with
28 MODERN MARRIAGE.
superb conﬁdence, seems a woman to
reign over a salon in a superior fashion,
a Parisian to whom her ugliness simply
gives a dash of originality. Then, in
truth, a girl with twelve hundred thou-
sand francs can aﬁord to be ugly.
From this point things advance very
speedily. The aﬂianced couple are not
people to linger in the doorway over
bagatelles. Both know perfectly well
the bargain they are driving. WVith a
smile they have understood each other.
Marguerite has been brought up in an
aristocratic boarding-school; she lost her
mother at the age of seven, and her
father has been unable to watch Over her
education. SO she remained at school
until she was seventeen, learning every-
thing that a rich young lady is expected
to know, —-music, dancing, ﬁne manners,
even a little grammar, history, and arith-
metic. But her principal education is
derived from companionship with her
comrades, young girls from all the ﬁner
MODERN MARRIAGE. 29
portions of ‘Paris. In this narrow world,
a miniature image of the larger world,
between the four walls of the garden in
which she has grown up, she has known,
from the age of fourteen, the delights of
wealth, the practical spirit of the cen-
tury, the power of woman, everything
that goes to make up our advanced civili-
zation. Though she may hesitate over a
question of domestic economy, she dis-
tinguishes at a glance all imaginable
varieties of lace, talks of the fashions
like a society dressmaker, knows act-
resses by their ﬁrst names, bets at the
races, and passes judgment upon horses
in the language of the track. And she
knows still other things, quite virtuously,
however, for she has led the life of a
bachelor during the eight years since she
left school.
Jules, meanwhile, sends her every day
a bouquet costing three louis. When he
goes to see her, he shows great gallantry.
But the conversation quickly turns; they
30 MODERN MARRIAGE.
always get back to the establishment
which they are about to set up. Outside
of the two or three customary compli-
ments, they talk nothing but upholsterer,
carriage-maker, purveyors of all sorts.
Marguerite has ﬁnally decided to accept
Jules, because he seems suﬂiciently com-
monplace to suit her, and because life
with her father has been too tiresome this
last winter. Their ﬁrst lovers’ ramble is a
visit to the house in the Rue d’Amster-
dam. She ﬁnds it rather small; but she
will order two partitions taken down and
change the position of the doors. Then
she discusses the color of the furniture, is
anxious to know which will be her bed-
chamber, and even goes down to see the
stables, with which she declares herself
satisﬁed. She visits the house twice af-
terwards, to give her own orders to the
architect. Jules is delighted; he has
found the woman that he needed.
A week before the ceremony the two
families are nearly tired out. The cele-
MoDERN MARRIAGE. 31
brated Beaugrand and the elder Desvig-
nes have already had three conferences
with the notaries. They scrutinize the
slightest clauses, like distrustful men,
entertaining no illusions regarding hu-
man integrity. Jules, for his part, is
giving himself unheard-of trouble about
the Wedding presents. Marguerite, in
violation of the proprieties, With the
smile of a spoiled child, has asked to
be allowed to make her own choice of
jewels and laces. And oﬁ they start, ac-
companied only by a poor relative, search-
ing the shops, appraising diamonds and
valenciennes, from morning till night.
It amuses them, however. They do not
wander beside hedges, like simple lovers,
clasping hands; they smile at each other,
seated before jewelers’ counters, passing
rings and brooches back and forth, their
ﬁngers cooled by the precious stones.
At last the contract is signed. During
the reading a ﬁnal discussion arose be-
tween the celebrated Beaugrand and-
32 MODERN MARRIAGE.
Desvignes. But Jules intervened, while'
Marguerite listened, with big attentive
eyes, all ready to defend her interests
with a word, if she saw them compro—
mised. The contract is very complicated;
it leaves half the dowry‘at the disposal
of the husband, and makes the other half
an inalienable property the income of
which is to be held in common, with the
exception of twelve thousand francs, this
sum being allotted to the wife annually
for her dress. The celebrated Beau-
grand, who is the author of this master-
piece, is delighted at having out-gener-
alled his old friend Desvignes.
Ten persons, at most, are invited to the
mayor’s ofﬁce. The mayor is a cousin of
Jules. In reading the code, he assumes a
serious air; but no sooner does he lay
down the book than he hastens to become
a man of the world again, complimenting
the ladies, insisting on personally oﬁering
the pen to the witnesses, among whomv
there are two senators, a cabinet minister,
MODERN MARRIAGE. ' - 33.
and a general. Marguerite has uttered
the sacramental “Yes” in a rather strong
voice, with a serious air, for she knows
the law. All present wear a grave aspect,
as if aiding with their presence the con-
clusion of a transaction involving the
transfer of large sums. The bride and
bridegroom leave each ﬁfteen hundred
francs for the poor. And in the evening
there is a dinner at the Desvignes resi-
dence, to which the witnesses are invited;
only the cabinet minister is unable to
come, to the keen disappointment of the
two families.
I The religious marriage takes place at
the Madeleine. Three days beforehand
Jules and his father have been there to
arrange about the prices. They have
asked for all possible luxury and have
debated certain ﬁgures: so much for the‘
mass at the grand altar, so much for the
organs, so much for the carpets. It is
agreed that a carpet shall extend down
the twenty steps and to the sidewalk; it,
34 MoDERN MARRIAGE."
is also agreed that the organs shall greet
the entrance of the bridal procession with
a triumphal march; it costs an extra ﬁfty
francs, but it has a great effect. A thou- '
sand invitations are issued. When the
carriages arrive in a long straight line, the
church is already ﬁlled with people, men
in dress suits, women in full dress. By a
miracle of coquettishness Marguerite has
concealed her ugliness almost entirely,
beneath her white veil and her crown of
orange ﬂowers. Jules is inﬂated with his
importance, on seeing that so many peo-
ple have gone out of their way on his
account. Meanwhile the organs peal, the
singers lift their resonant voices, the
ceremony lasts nearly an hour and a half,
under the majesty of the arches. It is
very beautiful. Then, in the sacristy,
begins an interminable procession. Ac-
quaintances, guests, even strangers, enter
by one door and pass out by another,
after shaking hands with bride, bride'-
groom, and relatives. This formality
MoDERN MARRIAGE. 35
takes more than an hour longer. Among
those present are many political celeb_
rities, lawyers, attorneys, great manu—
facturers, artists, journalists; and Jules
shakes hands with special cordiality with
a short, pale young man, with whom he
is slightly acquainted, and who writes
for a Boulevard sheet, in the columns of
which he possibly will insert a note about
the marriage. ,
As neither the Beaugrands nor the
Desvignes have a salon large enough for
the banquet, they eat and dance in the
evening at the Hotel du Louvre. The
banquet is ordinary. I The ball, in
the hotel ball-room, is very brilliant.
At midnight a carriage takes the bri-
dal pair to the Rue d’ Amsterdam; and
they jest on the way, in the midst of dark
Paris, while shadows of women roam
around the street corners. When Jules
enters the bridal chamber, he ﬁnds Mar-
guerite quietly awaiting him, one elbow
buried in the pillow. She is a little pale,
36 MODERN - MARRIAGE;
with an embarrassed smile, nothing more.
And the marriage is consummated quite
naturally, as a thing long expected.
The Beaugrands have now been mar-
ried two years. There has been no break,
but they forget each other for six months
at a time. When Jules is seized with a
caprice for his wife, he is obliged to plead
his suit for a whole‘ week before gaining
admission to her chamber; generally, to
save time, which is precious, he goes else-
where to satisfy his caprice. He is so
busy! To-day he is a rising man; he no
longer contents himself with his ofﬁce, but
belongs to several societies, and even gam-
bles at the Bourse. It is his joy to attract
the attention of Paris; the journals credit
him with witty sayings. However, he
does not beat-his wife, and he has not yet
succeeded in- ﬁnding a way, in spite of his
father’s advice, to get control of the six
hundred thousand francs made inalienable
by the contract. ‘
. Marguerite, for her part, is a charming
MODERN MARRIAGE. 37
woman. The young girl has kept her
promises. She has made the residence in
the Rue (1’ Amsterdam a rendezvous of
luxury and festivity. All the mad prodi-
gality of Paris, three- thousand - franc
dresses spoiled in an evening, candles
lighted with twisted bank-notes, contribute
the brilliancy of extraordinary wealth.
From morning till evening carriages roll
under the archway; and certain nights
the neighborhood hears until dawn a far-
off music and the softened laughter of
dancers. Marguerite is all resplendent in
her ugliness. She has managed to make
herself more desirable than a pretty
woman; she is better than beautiful, she
is worse, as she says herself, with a laugh.
Her dowry of twelve hundred thousand
francs ﬂames like a heap of burning straw.
She would ruin her husband in a year,
had she not a rare intelligence. It is
known that she has only a thousand
francs a month at her disposal for her
dress; \ but no one has the bad taste to ex?
38 MODERN MARRIAGE.
press astonishment when he sees her
spend in a month what she receives for
a year. Jules is delighted, no woman
could have kept his house on such a foot-
ing, and he is sincerely grateful to her for
all that she does, with a view to widening
the circle of their relations. Just now
Marguerite is showing ﬁlial attention to
one of the senators who were among the
witnesses at her wedding; she suffers a
kiss upon her shoulders behind the doors,
and accepts presents of bonds conveyed in
boxes of confectionery. I
III.
' Louise Bodin is past the age of thirty.
She is a tall person, neither handsome nor
homely, with an insipid face, and cheeks
which celibacy is beginning to blotch.
She is the daughter of a small haber-
dasher in the Rue Saint-Jacques, who has
been established for more than twenty
years in an obscure shop, wherehe has so
MoDERN MARRIAGE. 39
far been able to accumulate but ten thou-
sand francs; and to do even this he has had
to refrain from eating meat oftener than
twice a week, wear the same garments for
three years, and count in winter the
shovelfuls of coal thrown into the stove.
For twenty years Louise has been there,
behind the counter, seeing nothing but
the bespattering of pedestrians by cabs.
Twice she has been in the country, —‘once
at Vincennes, once at Saint Denis. When
she goes to the door, she sees at the foot
of the street the bridge beneath which the
river ﬂows. However,‘ she is reasonable,
she has grown up in respect for the sou’s
worth of needles and the two sous’ worth
of thread which she sells to the working-
women of the neighborhood. Her mother
sent her to a small boarding-school not
far away; but at the age of twelve she
took her away to save the expense of hir-
ing a clerk. Louise knows how to read
and write,‘ but is not strong in spelling;
what she knows best is the multiplication
4O MODERN MARRIAGE.‘
table. As she says, in her sedate voice,
she is well enough educated for business.
Meanwhile her father has declared that
he would give her a dowry of two thou-
sand francs. This promise is noised
through the neighborhood; no one is un-
aware that the Bodin young lady will
have two thousand francs. Consequently
there has been no lack of offers. But
Louise is a prudent girl. She declares
very frankly that she will never marry a
young man with nothing. People do not
unite for the purpose of folding their arms
and gazing into the whites of each other’s
eyes. Children may come; besides, it is
very pleasant to have a bit of bread in
one’s old age. So she wishes a husband
who has at least two thousand francs,
like herself. They will be able to take a
little shop and earn an honorable living.
But though husbands with two thousand
francs are not rare, their ambition is gen-
erally in the direction of women with
twice or three times as much. That is
MODERN MARRIAGE. 41
why Louise threatens to remain an old
maid. She has rejected the worthless fe'l-
lows,-—men who hovered about her in the
hope of devouring her dowry. She is per-
fectly willing to be married for her money,
since money, in short, is all there is in
life. Only, she means to ﬁnd a husband
who also respects money.
Finally, some -one mentions to the
Bodins a very good young man, a working
clock-maker, of excellent morals. He
resides in the vicinity, with his mother,
who lives upon the income of her small
estate. Madame Meunier has put aside,
by marvels of economy, the sum of ﬁfteen
hundred francs, in order to facilitate her
son’s marriage. Alexandre Meunier, who
‘is a year younger than Louise, is very
timid, very proper. But Louise, when
the ﬁgure of ﬁfteen hundred francs is
named, says squarely that it is useless
to go further; she wishes two thousand
francs, she has made all her calculations.
However, relations are established be-
42 MODERN MARRIAGE.
tween the two families, Madame Meunier
comes herself to solicit a desirable mar-
riage for her son; and, when she learns of
the sum required by Louise, she highly
approves the young girl’s prudent resolu-
tion and promises to have the two thou-
sand francs in eighteen months. From
that time the matter is settled.- The fam-
ilies live on a footing of close intimacy.
The children, Alexandre and Louise, wait
tranquilly, shaking hands now and then
in a friendly way. ‘Every evening they
meet, and there they sit, in the back-
shop, on both sides of the table, without
a blush or any show of impatience, talk-
ing of the neighborhood, of the prosper- '
ity of some, of the misconduct or mis-
chance of others. In eighteen months
they do not exchange a word of love.
Louise ﬁnds Alexandre a very decent
fellow, but perhaps a little weak, for one‘
day she heard him say that he did not
dare to ask a friend for ten francs which
he lent him six weeks before. Alexandre
MODERN MARRIAGE. 43
declares that Louise is born for business,
which, in his mouth, is a great compli-
ment.
On the appointed day, as promptly as
if she had to meet a maturing note, Mad-
ame Meunier has the two thousand francs.
For a year and a half she has gone with-
out coffee and saved sous on her food,
light, and heat. The date of the marriage
is ﬁxed for three months later, to give
time for preparation. It is decided that
Alexandre shall establish himself as a
clock-maker, in a little shop which they
have discovered in the same street, the
Rue Saint-Jacques, formerly occupied by
a fruit dealer who was unsuccessful. And
the ﬁrst thing to be done is to put the
shop in good condition. They ﬁnally con-
tent themselves with whitening the ,ceilin g
and washing the paint, as the painter
asked two hundred‘ francs to give it a new
coat. As for the merchandise, it will con-
sist at ﬁrst of a few ordinary jewels and a
few second-hand time-pieces. Alexandre
44 MODERN MARRIAGE.
will begin by repairing clocks in the neigh-
borhood; and little by little, as they be-
come known, proceeding carefully, they
will come to have one of the ﬁnest and best
equipped shops in the street. After all is
done, the shop ready, and the cost of set-
ting it up paid, they will still have three
thousand francs, with which to watch for
good bargains. These arrangements oc-
cupy them until the night before the mar-
riage. .
Whenever a contract has been spoken
of, Louise has shrugged her shoulders and
Alexandre has begun to laugh. A contract
costs at least two hundred francs. They
will hold everything in common and will
divide everything‘ equally; it is’ much
more natural. Nevertheless, they are de-
termined to do things properly. In addi-
tion to the wedding-ring—a gold ring cost-
ing ﬁfteen francs—Alexandre gives Louise
a watch-chain. The wedding festivities
are to take place in a suburban restaurant
_ at Saint-Mandé,--the Panic?‘ Fleur/i; but i
MODERN MARRIAGE. 45
the Bodins have declared that the cost of
the banquet concerns them alone.
The marriage is ﬁxed for a Saturday,
because in this way one has the whole of
Sunday to rest. The bridal party ﬁlls ﬁve
carriages, hired for the day. Alexandre
has had a black frock-coat and pantaloons
made for the occasion. Louise has made
her own white dress, and an aunt has
given her the crown and bouquet of orange
ﬂowers. All the guests, moreover, —n early
twenty persons,—have been to some ex-
pense for their costumes; the ladies wear
silk dresses, pink, green, and yellow; the
gentlemen wear frock-coats, a former fur-
niture dealer even wears a dress-coat. But
the two bridesmaids especially attract
the attention of the passers-by, two tall
blondes in white muslin, their waists com-
pressed by broad blue sashes. And at
eleven o’ clock in the morning the proces-
sion forms, starts for the mayor’s ofﬁce,
where the bridal party invades the mar-
rying department. The mayor makes
46 MODERN MARRIAGE.
them wait nearly three quarters of an
hour. He is a stout man and gives the
appearance of being bored; he dispatches
the articles of the code, looking continu-
ally at the clock opposite him; he must
have a business appointment. Madame
Bodin and Madame Meunier weep freely.
The bride and bridegroom answer “yes,”
at the same time politely bowing to the
mayor. While this goes on, the former
furniture dealer ventures some sly re-
marks, which make the gentlemen chuckle.
Alexandre and Louise have each pre-
pared themselves with a ﬁve-franc piece
for the poor. Then the bridal party get
into the carriages again, drive across the
square, and get out in front of the church.
The ceremony has been arranged the night
before by M. Bodin and‘Alexandre; they
have ordered the simplest forms, deeming
it unnecessary to fatten the priests; M.
Bodin, who is a free-thinker, even pre-
ferred that they should not go to church,
and yielded on this point only for pro-
MODERN MARRIAGE. 47
priety’s sake. The priest hurries through
the mass, a low mass at the altar of the
Virgin. Those present rise and sit in
obedience to the beadle’s signals. Only
the women have mass-books, and they do
not read them. The bride and bridegroom
wear grave faces, vwith a vaguely bored
and inattentive air, as if thinking of
nothing at all. At last, when the party
leave the church, everybody gives a sigh
of relief. It is over at last; now one can
laugh a bit. .
About two o’ clock the carriages arrive
at Saint-Mandé. The dinner-hour is six.
So they go off to the Vincennes park. And
for three hours there is a Sunday prom-
enade among the trees; the bridesmaids
run about like little girls, the ladies seek
the shady spots, the gentlemen light
cigars. As the whole party is exhausted
with fatigue, they ﬁnally sit down in the
middle of a glade, and there forget them-
selves in listening to the sound of the
trumpets from the neighboring fort, the
48 MODERN MARRIAGE.
shrill whistle of the passing locomotives,
the far-off rumble of Paris at the horizon.
But now the dinner-hour approaches,
and they return to the restaurant. The
table is laid in a large room lighted by ten
gas jets, like a cafe; at the two ends of
the table there are huge artiﬁcial bou-
quets, whose ﬂowers long usage has faded.
And the service begins, amid the clatter
of spoons 1n soup-plates. Then they warm
up, they jest, from one end of the table to
the other. The gayest moment of the
evening is that when a young man, a
linen-draper’s clerk, slips under the table
and unfastens the bride’s garter, a ﬂood
of ribbons, which the gentlemen divide
into bits, with which to decorate their
button-holes. Louise hoped to be spared
this time-honored bit of fun; but her
father convinced her that her refusal
would sadden the festivities, and she con-
forms to the custom with her usual good
sense. Alexandre laughs loudly, over-
ﬂowing with the joy of a worthy youth to
-MODERN MARRIAGE. .49
whom amusement is a rarity. The garter,
however, is made the occasion of some
very broad allusions. When these jests
go a little too far, the ladies hide their
.faces in their napkins, to laugh more
freely.
It is nine o’ clock. The restaurant
waiters request the party to pass into the
adjoining room for a moment. Then the
table is quickly removed, and the large
dining-room becomes a ball-room. Two
violins, a key-bugle, aclarionet, and a bass
viol are installed upon a platform. The
ball begins; the bridesmaids’ dresses, with
their waving blue sashes, ﬂoat all night
long from one end of the hall to the other
amid black frock-coats. It is very warm;
the ladies open a window to get a breath
of fresh air from outside. Glasses of our-
rant syrup are served on trays. Toward
two o’ clock the bride cannot be found;
she has disappeared, returned to Paris
with her mother and .her husband. M.
Bodin has remained to represent the fam-
50 MODERN MARRIAGE.
fly and entertain the guests. They must
dance till daylight.
In the Rue Saint-Jacques Madame Bo-
din and two other ladies proceed to the
bride’s night toilet. They put her to bed,
and all three begin to weep. Louise, grow-
ing impatient, sends them away, after
having been forced herself to encourage
them. She is very tranquil, tired simply,
wanting very much to go to sleep. And
in fact, the timid Alexandre being slow in
making his appearance, she ﬁnally falls
asleep in her place, next the wall. Alex-
andre at last comes in on tiptoe. He halts,
sees that she is asleep, looks at her a
moment, relieved. Then, with a thousand
precautions, he undressed‘ and slips under
the clothes as quietly as possible. ‘He does
not even embrace her. He- will wait till
morning- They have plenty of time, since
they are united for life.
And they lead a very happy life. They
are lucky enough to have no children;
children would be in their way. Their
MODERN MARRIAGE. 51
business prospers, the little shop grows,
the windows ﬁll up with jewels and time-
pieces. Louise runs the establishment
with a mistress hand. For hours she is
behind the counter, smiling on customers,
selling as articles made the day before
jewels that are out of fashion; at night,
with a pen behind her ear, she goes Over
the accounts. Often too she spends entire
days in cruising about Paris after orders.
Her entire life is passed in constant
thought of business, the woman disap-
pears, leaving only an active and shrewd
clerk, without sex, incapable of a fall,
having the ﬁxed idea Of retiring with an
income of ﬁve or six thousand francs, to
devour it at Suresnes, in a villa, built in
the form of a Swiss cottage. Consequently
Alexandre shows absolute serenity, a blind
conﬁdence in his wife. He attends only
to the clock-making, repairing watches
and‘ time-pieces, and the house itself
seems like a large clock, whose pendulum
they have regulated between them for-
52 MODERN MARRIAGE.
ever. Never will they know whether they
love each other. But they know surely
that they are honest partners, ﬁerce after
money, who continue to sleep together to
save on the laundry bill.
IV.
Valentin is a tall young blade of
twenty-ﬁve, a joiner by trade, born in the
Faubourg Saint-Antoine. His father and
his grandfather were joiners. He has
grown up among shavings, and has played
marbles, till the age of ten, on the side—
walk in the Place de la Bastille, around
the July column. Not;r he sleeps in the
Rue de la Roquette, in a furnished ale-
house, where, for ten francs a month, he
gets a hole .under the roof, just big enough
for a bed and a chair; and withal, to get
into bed, he is obliged to bend himself
double, unless he wants to hit his head
_ against the ceiling. However, he makes
MODERN MARRIAGE. 53
sport of his surroundings. He does not
receive in his apartments; he goes home
to bed at ten o’clock, and at ﬁve o’ clock
in the morning, summer and winter, he
shakes off his ﬂeas. He declares only that
it vexes him, when he makes an acquaint-
.ance, because he does not dare to take’
the ladies home with him. His room is so
small that, if two were to sleep in it, the
legs of one would surely dangle on the
stairway.
A good fellow, this Valentin! He
works hard, because he is still young and
because he believes in work. Moreover,
he is no drunkard, no gambler, perhaps a
little fond of petticoats. Women, that is
his great fault. When in the morning he'
pushes his jointing-plane with a feeble
arm, his comrades chaff him, shouting that
he has been to see Mademoiselle Lise.
The? explanation of this is that Valentin
formerly had a‘ girl named Lise, and that,
on days when he felt lazy, he was in the
habit of saying: “Oh, the devil! I can
54 MODERN MARRIAGE.
do nothing tO-day; I went to see Lise last
night.” In the dance-halls of the fau-
bourg he is known as the handsome joiner.
He has a large head, a merry face, and
curly hair; and, when he dances, he rolls
up his sleeves, for comfort, he says, but
really to show his strong arms, which are
as white as a woman’s. Consequently he
is known for his conquests. He has had
the handsomest girls, the grand Nana, the
little Augustine, and the plump Adele
with but one eye, and even la ‘Bordelaise,
a book-stitcher, for whom two soldiers
have killed each other. Every evening he
makes the round of the balls, a look here,
a look there, just to see if there are not in
the corners young girls whom he does not
know.
One evening, as he enters the Jardin do
Flore, a public ball in the Rue de Char-
onne, he sees Clémence, a florist of‘six-
teen, whose beautiful light hair seems to
him like a sun shining in the hall. He is
crazy at once. He is attentive to her the
MODERN MARRIAGE. 55
whole evening, dances with her, pays for
a bowl of wine a la Francoise. Then,
towards eleven o’ clock, when Clémence
goes home, he accompanies her, and natu-
rally desires to go in. But she clearly
refuses. She willingly spends an evening
at the ball; but farther she does not go.
And she closes the door in his face. The
next day he makes inquiries. Clémence
has already had a lover, who abandoned
her, leaving her to pay two quarters’
rent. Then she swore to avenge herself on
the ﬁrst man who should be stupid enough
to love her.
Nevertheless Valentin waits on the
sidewalk every day, runs the risk of- going
in to say “ How do you do 2 ” follows her
everywhere.
“Well, shall it be to-nighti” he asks,
with a laugh.
But she answers gaily:
“NO, no, to-morrow I ”
Every Sunday he meets her at the Jar-
dz'n do Flore. She is seated near the
56 MODERN MARRIAGE.
musicians. She readily accepts wine a la
Francaz'se; she dances with him; but, as
soon as he offers to embrace her, she gives
him a slap; and if he suggests that they
live together, she tells him, with a very
reasonable air, that he does wrong in per-
sisting, that she does not wish to because
such things do not please her.. For six
weeks they go on in this way, never 083,87
ing to laugh.
At the end of the second month Valen-
.tin becomes gloomy. He can no longer
.sleep at night, in his hole under the roof. _
He stiﬂes there. When in bed with his
eyes wide open, he sees in the darkness
,Clémence’s blonde face, her hair shining
with its sunny radiance. Then a fever
seizes him; he turns and tosses until day-
light as if he were on coals; and the next
day at the shop he does nothing, his eyes
wander, the tools fall from his handg. His
comrades shout: “ So you have been to
see Mademoiselle Lise?” Alas! no, he
has not been to see Mademoiselle Lise.
MODERN MARRIAGE. 57‘
Three times he has been to see Olémence,
has ﬂung himself at her knees, begging
her to be good to him. But she has said
no, always no; so that he has cried like a
fool in the street. He dreams of going to
lie down in front of her door on the land—
ing, because it seems to him that he would
be more comfortable there, listening to
her light breathing, through the crevices.
The desire for this little girl, whose neck
he could twist with two ﬁngers, as he
would a chicken’ s, takes from him all
thought of food and drink.
Finally, one evening, he calls on Olé-
mence and abruptly offers to marry her.
She seems astonished, but promptly ac-
cepts‘. She herself loves him with all her
heart; but she had wept too much when
the ﬁrst one abandoned her. Now that
he proposed that they should unite for-
ever, she is very willing.
Th; next day they go to the mayor’s
oﬁice to ﬁnd out what they must do. The
length of the formalities ﬁlls them with
58 MODERN MARRIAGE.-
consternation. Clémence does not know'
where to ﬁnd her father’s death-certiﬁcate.
Valentin runs from ofﬁce to ofﬁce before
obtaining his freedom papers. Now they
see each other every day, they go to walk
on the fortiﬁcations and eat ' cake at the
suburban fétes. In the evening, as they
return through the long streets of the fau-
bourgs, they say nothing, but gently press
each other’s arms. Their hearts are big‘
with a joy of which they cannot speak.
Clémence once has sung to Valentin a
ballad, about a lady in a balcony and a'
prince who kissed her hair; and Valentin
liked it so well that his eyes ﬁlled with
tears.
The formalities are complied with, the
marriage is ﬁxed for a Saturday. They
will marry very quietly. Valentin has
been to the church to make inquiries, but,
as the priest wanted six francs, he an-
swered that he could do without his'mass;
and Clémence declared that the marriage
at the mayor’s ofﬁce was the only one that
MODERN MARRIAGE. 59
was good for anything. At ﬁrst they
talked of having no wedding festivities at
all; then, not to seem to hide themselves,
they have planned a picnic at ﬁve francs a
head, at a wine merchant’s in the Barriére
du Trone. They will be eighteen at table.
Clémence is to take three of her lady-
friends who are married. Valentin has
recruited a whole party Of joiners and
cabinet-makers, with ladies. The rendez—
vous at the wine-merchant’s is set for two
o’ clock, as they intend to make a little
excursion before dinner.
Valentin and Clémence make their ap-
pearance at the mayor’s Ofﬁce accompan-
ied only by their witnesses. Valentin has
had his frock-coat cleaned. Clémence,
for the last three days, has spent her
nights in making over an old blue dress,
which one of her friends, taller than her-
self, has sold her for ten francs. She has
a bonnet trimmed with red ﬂowers. And
she is so pretty, with her girlish white
face under her ﬂying locks of light hair
60 MODERN MARRIAGE.
that the mayor smiles paternally upon her.
When her. turn comes to say “yes,” she
feels Valentin nudge her with his elbow,
and she bursts out laughing. Everybody
in the room laughs, even to the ofﬁce-
boys. A breath of youth, as it were,
passes through the yellow leaves of the
code. Then, when it comes to signing on
the register, the witnesses apply them-
selves. Valentin makes a cross, because
he cannot write. Clémence makes a big
blot. All present give two sous to the poor
fund. Only the bride, after a long fum-
ble in her pockets, ﬁnally- gives ten sous.
At two o’ clock the company meets
again at the wine-merchant’ s in the Place
du Trone. They start from there for the
fortiﬁcations, walking straight ahead;
then the men organize a game of blind-
man’ s-buﬁ, in the trench. When one of
the joiners catches a lady, he keeps her
for a moment in his arms, he pinches her
hips; and the. lady utters little cries, say-
ing that pinching is forbidden. The whole,
MoDERN MARRIAGE. 61
company laughs loudly, ﬁlling the lonely
spot with such an uproar that the fright-
ened sparrows ﬂy out of the trees along
the chemz'n (Ze ronde. .On the way back
there are three children ,whose fathers
have to carry them pick-back, because
they are too tired to walk. _
But this prevents no one from doing
justice to the dinner. Each is determined
- to eat his ﬁve francs’ worth. They pay,
do they not? Then they will empty the
plates. Consequently the bones are care-
fully cleaned. Nothing is left to carry
back to the kitchen. Valentin, whom his
comrades wish to intoxicate for sport,
keeps an eye on his glass; but. Olémence,
who generally does not drink clear wine,
is very red and as talkative as a magpie.
They are very gay, everything is going
very ,well. At dessert the songs begin.
Each has his own. For three hours there
is an interminable warbling of couplets.
One sings a ballad about Venice and the
gondolas; vanother makes a specialty of
62 - MODERN MARRIAGE.
comic songs, and relates the misdeeds of
wine at four sous, imitating a drunken
man in the refrain; a third sings some-
thing rather broad, which the ladies,
laughing loudly, accompany with their
knife-handles on their glasses. But, when
it comes to paying, there is trouble. The
wine merchant insists on extras. What!
extras? Five francs was the pricev agreed
on, and ﬁve francs it shall be, no more!
And, as the wine merchant threatens to
call the police, the situation grows worse,
blows are exchanged, a part of the com-
pany ﬁnishes the night at the station-
house. Luckily the bride and bridegroom
have had the good sense to slip away at
the beginning of the quarrel.
It is four o’ clock in the morning when
Valentin and Clémence reach the latter’s
chamber, which they have decided to keep
until the next quarter. They have walked
all the way through the Faubourg Saint-
Antoine, not feeling the cold wind, so
quick was their step. And as soon as the
MODERN MARRIAGE. 63
door is closed, Valentin takes Clémence‘
in his arms, covers her face with kisses,
with a brutality of passion that makes her
laugh. She hangs upon his neck, she
embraces him also, with all her might, to
. prove to him that she loves him. The bed
is not even made; she was in such a hurry
in the morning that she simply spread
the coverlet. And he helps her to turn
the mattress. Then, at daylight, they go
to bed. Clémence’s canary, whose cage
hangs near the window, is softly chirping.
In the poor chamber, beneath the faded
curtains of the bed, love brings, as it were,
a ﬂuttering of wings. _
Everything settled, Valentin and Clé-
mence begin housekeeping with twenty—
three sous. On Monday each returns
quietly to work. And the days roll
by, life passes. At thirty Clémence is
homely, her light hair has turned a dirty
yellow, the three children Whom she has
nursed have destroyed her ﬁgure. Valen-
tin has taken to drinking, his breath is
64 ‘ MODERN MARRIAGE. '
strong, constant use of the plane has made
his handsome arms hard and thin. . On
pay-days, when the joiner comes home
drunk, with pockets empty, the household
comes to blows, and the children scream.
Little by little the wife gets into the habit .
of going to the wine-shop after her hus-
band; ﬁnally she sits down at the table‘
herself, takes her share of the liquor, amid
the tobacco smoke. But she loves her
husband all the same; she excuses him
when he gives her a blow. Moreover, she
remains an honest woman; no one can ac-
cuse her of sleeping with the ﬁrst man
that comes along, as certain creatures do.
And in this life of quarrels and poverty,
in the ﬁlth of this dwelling where often
there is no ﬁre and no bread, there are,
until death, beneath‘ the ragged curtains
of the bed, nights when love brings " theI
caress of his ﬂuttering wings.
THE END.


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