relle?"

He replied calmly: "Yes."

"Did it affect her?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, she thought it an excellent plan."

The news was soon noised abroad. Some were surprised, others pretended
to have foreseen it, and others again smiled, inferring that they were
not at all astonished. The young man, who signed his articles, "D. de
Cantel," his "Echoes," "Duroy," and his political sketches, "Du Roy,"
spent the best part of his time with his betrothed, who had decided
that the date fixed for the wedding should be kept secret, that the
ceremony should be celebrated in the presence of witnesses only, that
they should leave the same evening for Rouen, and that the day
following they should visit the journalist's aged parents and spend
several days with them. Duroy had tried to persuade Madeleine to
abandon that project, but not succeeding in his efforts he was finally
compelled to submit.

The tenth of May arrived. Thinking a religious ceremony unnecessary, as
they had issued no invitations, the couple were married at a
magistrate's and took the six o'clock train for Normandy.

As the train glided along, Duroy seated in front of his wife, took her
hand, kissed it, and said: "When we return we will dine at Chatou
sometimes."

She murmured: "We shall have a great many things to do!" in a tone
which seemed to say: "We must sacrifice pleasure to duty."

He retained her hand wondering anxiously how he could manage to caress
her. He pressed her hand slightly, but she did not respond to the
pressure.

He said: "It seems strange that you should be my wife."

She appeared surprised: "Why?"

"I do not know. It seems droll. I want to embrace you and I am
surprised that I have the right."

She calmly offered him her cheek which he kissed as he would have
kissed his sister's. He continued:

"The first time I saw you (you remember, at that dinner to which I was
invited at Forestier's), I thought: 'Sacristi, if I could only find a
wife like that!' And now I have one."

She glanced at him with smiling eyes.

He said to himself: "I am too cold. I am stupid. I should make more
advances." And he asked: "How did you make Forestier's acquaintance?"

She replied with provoking archness: "Are we going to Rouen to talk of
him?"

He colored. "I am a fool. You intimidate me."

She was delighted. "I? Impossible."

He seated himself beside her. She exclaimed: "Ah! a stag!" The train
was passing through the forest of Saint-G