When all the honest _bourgeois_ friends of Bonnaud and Lansade had
satisfied their appetites, they did not leave the table, but began
to drink, and, as they drank, they sang. It was Bonnaud himself,
the father of the bride, who commenced: the guests joined in the
chorus. Take ten men of the world, accustomed to every variety of
debauch, give them the means to indulge in the most fearful orgies,
and at the moment when the riot and revel are at their height call
them to the window to see a newly-married couple pass from church.
Then you will behold a novel and curious spectacle. The orgies will
cease; the ribald song will be hushed. The happy couple will pass,
and the innocent laugh of their friends will alone disturb the
silence of the hour. These revellers are suddenly reminded of their
sisters, of their mothers, and of the days of their youth, blighted
and darkened by vice and debauchery. Well, for marriage--this
solemn and formidable sacrament,--this act, horrible, or sublime,
which rivets forever two beings to a chain, of which each broken
link is a grief or a shame--the _bourgeois_ have not the least
respect. They await the moment when the priest shall have finished,
to break forth in silly songs or idle jests.