dding-gifts,--favors, as they
call them,--and was dressed in the best of her simple clothes, a dress
of dark, heavy cloth, a white fichu with great spots of brilliant color,
an apron of carnation,--an Indian red much in vogue at the time, but
despised nowadays,--a cap of very white muslin after that pattern,
happily still preserved, which calls to mind the head-dress of Anne
Boleyn and of Agnes Sorrel. She was fresh and laughing, but not at
all vain, though she had good reason to be so. Beside her was Germain,
serious and tender, like young Jacob greeting Rebecca at the wells of
Laban. Another girl would have assumed an important air and struck an
attitude of triumph, for in every rank it is something to be married
for a fair face alone. Yet the girl's eyes were moist and shone with
tenderness. It was plain that she was deep in love and had no time to
think of the opinions of others. Her little air of determination was not
absent, but everything about her denoted frankness and good-will. There
was nothing impertinent in her success, nothing selfish in her sense
of power. Never have I seen so lovely a bride, when she answered with
frankness her young friends who asked if she were happy:

"Surely I have nothing to complain of the good Lord."

Father Maurice was spokesman. He came forward to pay his compliments,
and give the customary invitations. First he fastened to the mantelpiece
a branch of laurel decked out with ribbons; this is known as the
_writ_--that is to say, the letter of announcement. Next he gave
to every guest a tiny cross made of a bit of blue ribbon sewn to a
transverse bit of pink ribbon--pink for the bride, blue for the groom.
The guests of both sexes were expected to keep this badge to adorn their
caps or their button-holes on the wedding-day. This is the letter of
invitation, the admission ticket.

Then Father Maurice paid his congratulations. He invited the head of the
house and all his _company_,--that is to say, all his children, all his
friends, and all his servants,--to the benediction, _to the feast, to
the sports, to the dance, and to everything that follows_. He did not
fail to say, "I have come _to do you the honor of inviting you_"; a very
right manner of speech, even though it appears to us to convey the wrong
meaning, for it expresses the idea of doing honor to those who seem
worthy of it.

Despite the generosity of the invitation carried from house to house
throughout the parish, poli