husband hither in that expectation. Fortnoye vanished a minute
to arrange the banquet-room; and as his wife rushed in to find him,
followed by the rest of us, he snatched a great damask cloth from
the table, and there was such a set-out of flowers and viands as has
seldom been seen in Belgium or elsewhere. The table, instead of a
cloth, was entirely laid with; young emerald vine-leaves: our places
were marked, and at each plate was a gift for the bride, ostensibly
coming from the person who sat there, but really provided by the
forethought of Fortnoye. In front of my own cover two pretty downy
chicks were pecking in a cottage made of crystal slats and heavily
thatched with spun glass--the prettiest birdcage in the world. On the
eaves was an inscription: "The Man of the Two Chickens." It happened
that the little keepsake I had found for Francine consisted of
wheat-ears in pearls and gold, adapted for brooch and eardrops; so
I only had to drop them in beside the chickens and the present was
appropriate and complete.

I cannot tell of the effect as Mary Ashburleigh swept into that
splendid banqueting-room, one long pyramid of velvet pierced with
webbed interstices of light. If the largest window of St. Ursula's
church had come down and entered the room, the spectacle could not
have been so superb. One item struck me: the younger bride, of course,
wore orange buds; but for the Englishwoman, a beauty ripe with many
summers, buds and blossoms were inappropriate; she wore fruits: in
the grand coronal of plaits that massed itself upon her head were
set, like gems, three or four small, delicious, amber-scented mandarin
oranges. With this piece of exquisite apropos did the infallible Mary
Ashburleigh crown the edifice of her good taste. The two brides sat
opposite each other. A small watch, which I had happened to buy at
Coblenz, I managed to detach and lay on the Dark Ladye's plate as my
offering. On a card beside it I merely wrote, "ANOTHER TIME!"

Who knows? Perhaps Sylvester may fill and founder as the other has
done. He looks miserably bilious and frightened.

I had rather partake of a rare dinner than describe one. The wines
alone represented all the cellars of the Rhine and the whole champagne
country. Fortnoye, who gave the feast, entertained both Sylvester's
party and his own with regal good cheer. Think not that Henri Fortnoye
was the ordinary obfuscated, superfluous, bewildered bridegroom. On
the contrary, assuming