he firing of pistols, the
barking of dogs, and the squeaking sounds of the bagpipe, announced
the approach of the betrothed couple. Presently after, old Maurice and
his wife, with Germain and Marie, followed by Jacques and his wife,
the chief respective kinsfolk, and the godfathers and godmothers of
the betrothed, made their entrance into the yard.

Marie, not having yet received the wedding-presents, called _livrees_,
was dressed in the best attire of her simple wardrobe: a coarse dark
gown; a white handkerchief, with large flowers of gaudy colours; a red
calico apron; a snow-white muslin head-dress, the shape of which
called to mind the _coiffure_ of Ann Boleyn and Agnes Sorel. Marie's
features were fresh-looking, and lighted up with a smile, but without
any expression of pride, albeit she had some good reason for such a
feeling at this moment. Germain was grave and tender in his attentions
to his betrothed, like the youthful Jacob saluting Rachel at the wells
of Laban. Any other girl would have assumed an air of importance and
triumph; for in all classes of society, it is something for a girl to
be married for her sparkling eyes. But Marie's eyes glistened with
tears of emotion and love; you could see at a glance that she was too
deeply affected to be heedful of the opinion of others. Pere Maurice
was the spokesman on the occasion, and delivered the customary
compliments and invitations. In the first place, he fastened to the
mantelpiece a branch of laurel ornamented with ribbons: this is called
the _exploit_--that is to say, the form of invitation. He then
proceeded to distribute to each of those invited a small cross, made
of blue and rose coloured ribbon--the rose for the bride, the blue for
the bridegroom; and the guests had to keep this token--the women to
deck their head-dress, and the men their buttonhole, on the day of the
wedding. This is their ticket of admission to the ceremonies.

Pere Maurice, after making his compliments, invited the master of the
house and all his 'company'--that is to say, all his children, his
kinsfolk, his friends, and servants--to the benediction, to the
entertainment, to the feast, to the dance, and 'to all the rest;'
observing with the usual form of words: 'I have _done you the honour_
of bidding you to the wedding.'

Notwithstanding the liberality of the invitation carried thus from
house to house, through the whole parish, the natural politeness of
the peasants, which is rem