The mairie was a mile and a half from the farm, and they went thither

on foot, returning in the same way after the ceremony in the church.

The procession, first united like one long coloured scarf that undulated

across the fields, along the narrow path winding amid the green corn,

soon lengthened out, and broke up into different groups that loitered to

talk. The fiddler walked in front with his violin, gay with ribbons at

its pegs. Then came the married pair, the relations, the friends, all

following pell-mell; the children stayed behind amusing themselves

plucking the bell-flowers from oat-ears, or playing amongst themselves

unseen. Emma's dress, too long, trailed a little on the ground; from

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time to time she stopped to pull it up, and then delicately, with her

gloved hands, she picked off the coarse grass and the thistledowns,

while Charles, empty handed, waited till she had finished. Old Rouault,

with a new silk hat and the cuffs of his black coat covering his hands

up to the nails, gave his arm to Madame Bovary senior. As to Monsieur

Bovary senior, who, heartily despising all these folk, had come simply

in a frock-coat of military cut with one row of buttons--he was passing

compliments of the bar to a fair young peasant. She bowed, blushed,

and did not know what to say. The other wedding guests talked of their

business or played tricks behind each other's backs, egging one another

on in advance to be jolly. Those who listened could always catch the

squeaking of the fiddler, who went on playing across the fields. When

he saw that the rest were far behind he stopped to take breath, slowly

rosined his bow, so that the strings should sound more shrilly, then set

off again, by turns lowering and raising his neck, the better to mark

time for himself. The noise of the instrument drove away the little

birds from afar.

The table was laid under the cart-shed. On it were four sirloins, six

chicken fricassees, stewed veal, three legs of mutton, and in the middle

a fine roast suckling pig, flanked by four chitterlings with sorrel. At

the corners were decanters of brandy. Sweet bottled-cider frothed round

the corks, and all the glasses had been filled to the brim with wine

beforehand. Large dishes of yellow cream, that trembled with the least

shake of the table, had designed on their smooth surface the initials of

the newly wedded pair in nonpareil arabesques. A confectioner of Yvetot

had been intrusted with the tarts and sweets. As he had only just set up

on the place, he had taken a lot of trouble, and at dessert he himself

brought in a set dish that evoked loud cries of wonderment. To begin

with, at its base there was a square of blue cardboard, representing a

temple with porticoes, colonnades, and stucco statuettes all round, and

in the niches constellations of gilt paper stars; then on the second

stage was a dungeon of Savoy cake, surrounded by many fortifications

in candied angelica, almonds, raisins, and quarters of oranges; and

finally, on the upper platform a green field with rocks set in lakes of

jam, nutshell boats, and a small Cupid balancing himself in a chocolate

swing whose two uprights ended in real roses for balls at the top.




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