nor Eastern divinities slumbered peacefully. It seemed they
would never find their way out. They were getting tired and made a lot
of noise.

"Closing time! Closing time!" called out the attendants, in a loud tone
of voice.

And the wedding party was nearly locked in. An attendant was obliged to
place himself at the head of it, and conduct it to a door. Then in the
courtyard of the Louvre, when it had recovered its umbrellas from the
cloakroom, it breathed again. Monsieur Madinier regained his assurance.
He had made a mistake in not turning to the left, now he recollected
that the jewelry was to the left. The whole party pretended to be very
pleased at having seen all they had.

Four o'clock was striking. There were still two hours to be employed
before the dinner time, so it was decided they should take a stroll,
just to occupy the interval. The ladies, who were very tired, would have
preferred to sit down; but, as no one offered any refreshments, they
started off, following the line of quays. There they encountered another
shower and so sharp a one that in spite of the umbrellas, the ladies'
dresses began to get wet. Madame Lorilleux, her heart sinking within
her each time a drop fell upon her black silk, proposed that they should
shelter themselves under the Pont-Royal; besides if the others did not
accompany her, she threatened to go all by herself. And the procession
marched under one of the arches of the bridge. They were very
comfortable there. It was, most decidedly a capital idea! The ladies,
spreading their handkerchiefs over the paving-stones, sat down with
their knees wide apart, and pulled out the blades of grass that grew
between the stones with both hands, whilst they watched the dark flowing
water as though they were in the country. The men amused themselves with
calling out very loud, so as to awaken the echoes of the arch. Boche and
Bibi-the-Smoker shouted insults into the air at the top of their voices,
one after the other. They laughed uproariously when the echo threw the
insults back at them. When their throats were hoarse from shouting, they
made a game of skipping flat stones on the surface of the Seine.

The shower had ceased but the whole party felt so comfortable that no
one thought of moving away. The Seine was flowing by, an oily sheet
carrying bottle corks, vegetable peelings, and other refuse that
sometimes collected in temporary whirlpools moving along with the
turbulent water. Endless