She passed on. Other people were pushing forward. The crowd flowed by
like a stream. At length it grew thinner. The last guests took leave.
George took Susan's arm in his to pass through the church again. It was
full of people, for everyone had regained their seats in order to see
them pass together. They went by slowly, with calm steps and uplifted
heads, their eyes fixed on the wide sunlit space of the open door. He
felt little quiverings run all over his skin those cold shivers caused
by over-powering happiness. He saw no one. His thoughts were solely for
himself. When he gained the threshold he saw the crowd collected--a
dense, agitated crowd, gathered there on his account--on account of
George Du Roy. The people of Paris were gazing at and envying him. Then,
raising his eyes, he could see afar off, beyond the Palace de la
Concorde, the Chamber of Deputies, and it seemed to him that he was
going to make but one jump from the portico of the Madeleine to that of
the Palais Bourbon.
He slowly descended the long flight of steps between two ranks of
spectators. But he did not see them; his thoughts had now flown
backwards, and before his eyes, dazzled by the brilliant sun, now
floated the image of Madame de Marelle, re-adjusting before the glass
the little curls on her temples, always disarranged when she rose.