AS she stood waiting at the threshold of the little church for her
Uncle Alexis, who was just getting out of the carriage, Bijou turned
round, and, after giving a little kick to her long white satin train,
and pulling the folds of her veil over her face, she gazed round at
the motley crowd, who were hurrying towards the church-porch, with
that quick look in her luminous eyes which took in everything at a
glance.
She saw first the profile of Jean de Blaye towering above the others;
he was advancing towards her with an indifferent, languid expression
on his face, and talking to M. de Rueille, who looked slightly nervous
and excited. Henry de Bracieux, with a worried look on his face, was
listening in an absent sort of way to the marchioness, as she gave her
orders to the coachman.
Pierrot had got one of the tails of his coat, which was too short for
him, caught in the carriage-door, and, with his big, white-gloved
hands, he was awkwardly endeavouring to get free, but unsuccessfully.
M. Sylvestre, with an enormous roll of music under his arm, looking
very nervous, and in a great hurry, was rushing towards the staircase
which led to the gallery, without daring to lift his eyes from the
ground; whilst Abbe Courteil, accompanied by his two pupils, passed
by, looking very business-like--he, too, not venturing to glance in
the direction of Bijou.
Jeanne Dubuisson, who had got rather thinner, was waiting with her
father until the crowd made way for her to pass.
Among the Bracieux villagers, and just behind all the fine ladies and
gentlemen, who had come from Pont-sur-Loire and the country-houses in
the neighbourhood, Charlemagne Lavenue was pressing forward with long
strides. He was dressed in his best clothes, and his square shoulders
and ruddy complexion seemed to stand out against the background of
blue sky.
As she stood there, with her eyes lowered, looking as though she had
seen nothing, with the sun, which had brightened up the whole country
round for her marriage, shining full on her, Bijou was enjoying to
the full the bliss of living, of knowing herself beautiful, and of
being beloved by everyone.
The sound of her Uncle Alexis' voice as he offered her his arm, and
said: "Are you ready?" woke her up out of her ecstasy.
Very graceful and beautiful she looked, as she moved along to the
music of the organ, which was pealing forth.
A cabman, who had gone inside the church to see "the wedding,"
exclaimed, as Bijou passed up the aisle:
"Bless my soul! but ain't she a pretty one---the bride?"
Whereupon one of Farmer Lavenue's day-labourers replied:
"I believe you. And I can tell you what--she's as good as she is
pretty--she is! And even better nor that!"