"You see what a simple matter it is, as my uncle says," I added.
But she only laughed again, louder than ever. We have got on no further.
Louis, go and hang yourself! I was married yesterday, and you were not
there!
The ceremony was very fine. It was at the church of Sainte Clotilde; all
the Faubourg St. Germain was there, delighted at Kondjé-Gul's
conversion, and with her beauty, her charming manners, and the romance
connected with our marriage. Everyone was there who has made any name in
the world of art, not to speak of that of finance. There was Baron
Rothschild, who had a long conversation with my uncle. Three special
correspondents for London newspapers were present, and all our own Paris
reporters. High Mass, full choral; Fauré sang his Pie Jesus, Madame
Carvalho and Adelina Patti the Credo.
At the entrance, the crowd nearly crushed us. Barbassou-Pasha, Count of
Monteclaro, gave his arm to the bride. Poor Kondjé, what agitation, what
emotion, what delight she evinced! I escorted Madame Murrah in a
splendid costume, tamed but very dignified still, and playing her part
with noble airs, like a fatalist. "It was written!" She started off the
same day to Rhodes, where my uncle is finding a position for her--as
head manager of his Botany Bay.
The Countess of Monteclaro was there, and Anna Campbell was smiling all
over as she acted, in company with Maud and Susannah Montague, as
bridesmaid to her friend Kondjé-Gul.
It took them all exactly an hour to pass in procession through the
vestry. We had to sign the register there, and my uncle headed it with
his self-assumed title of "The late Barbassou," to which he clings.
Then came the deluge of congratulations, my beautiful Christian wife
blushing in her emotion, with her garland of orange-flowers. (Well, yes!
And why not? It's the custom, you know.) At two o'clock, back to the house, a family love-feast, and preparations
for the flight of the young couple to Férouzat. Peace and joy in all
hearts. My uncle, at last admitted to absolution, quivering with
pleasure at hearing my aunt Eudoxia calling him no longer "Pasha," but
"Captain," as of old.
Everywhere Love and Spring!
Come now, Louis, quite seriously, are you, who have made the experiment,
quite sure that one heart suffices for one veritable love? I am anxious
to know.
When evening arrived, the Count and Countess of Monteclaro accompanied
us to the railway station. They will join us at the end of the month.