urg Saint-Denis, they
had to cross the boulevard. The street had been transformed into a
morass of sticky mud by the storm. It had started to pour again and they
had opened the assorted umbrellas. The women picked their way carefully
through the mud, holding their skirts high as the men held the
sorry-looking umbrellas over their heads. The procession stretched out
the width of the street.

"It's a masquerade!" yelled two street urchins.

People turned to stare. These couples parading across the boulevard
added a splash of vivid color against the damp background. It was a
parade of a strange medley of styles showing fancy used clothing such as
constitute the luxury of the poor. The gentlemen's hats caused the most
merriment, old hats preserved for years in dark and dusty cupboards, in
a variety of comical forms: tall ones, flattened ones, sharply peaked
ones, hats with extraordinary brims, curled back or flat, too narrow
or too wide. Then at the very end, Madame Gaudron came along with
her bright dress over her bulging belly and caused the smiles of the
audience to grow even wider. The procession made no effort to hasten
its progress. They were, in fact, rather pleased to attract so much
attention and admiration.

"Look! Here comes the bride!" one of the urchins shouted, pointing
to Madame Gaudron. "Oh! Isn't it too bad! She must have swallowed
something!"

The entire wedding procession burst into laughter. Bibi-the-Smoker
turned around and laughed. Madame Gaudron laughed the most of all. She
wasn't ashamed as she thought more than one of the women watching had
looked at her with envy.

They turned into the Rue de Clery. Then they took the Rue du Mail. On
reaching the Place des Victoires, there was a halt. The bride's left
shoe lace had come undone, and as she tied it up again at the foot of
the statue of Louis XIV., the couples pressed behind her waiting, and
joking about the bit of calf of her leg that she displayed. At length,
after passing down the Rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs, they reached the
Louvre.

Monsieur Madinier politely asked to be their cicerone. It was a big
place, and they might lose themselves; besides, he knew the best parts,
because he had often come there with an artist, a very intelligent
fellow from whom a large dealer bought designs to put on his cardboard
boxes. Down below, when the wedding party entered the Assyrian Museum,
a slight shiver passed through it. The deuce! It was not at all