the notary mumbled something, and then all signed their names. The room
seemed to be teetering up and down, and it looked quite like rain.
Monsieur Bouvier stood on his tiptoes and again kissed his daughter on the
forehead, and Monsieur Guyon, taking her hand, lifted the long, slender
fingers to his lips, and told her that she would soon be a great lady and
the mistress of a splendid mansion, and have everything that one needed to
make one happy.

And so they were married by a bishop, with two priests and three curates
to assist. The ceremony was held at the great stone church; and as the
procession came out, the verger had a hard time to keep the crowd back, so
that the little girls in white could go before and strew flowers in their
pathway. The organ pealed, and the chimes clanged and rang as if the tune
and the times were out of joint; then other bells from other parts of the
old town answered, and across the valley rang mellow and soft the
chapel-bell of Montargis Castle.

Jeanne was seated in a carriage--how she got there she never knew; by her
side sat Jacques Guyon. The post-boys were lashing their horses into a
savage run, like devils running away with the souls of innocents, and
behind clattered the mounted, liveried servant. People on the sidewalks
waved good-bys and called God-bless-yous. Soon the sleepy old town was
left behind and the horses slowed down to a lazy trot. Jeanne looked back,
like Lot's wife: only a church-spire could be seen. She hoped that she
might be turned into a pillar of salt--but she wasn't. She crouched into
the corner of the seat and cried a good honest cry.

And Monsieur Jacques Guyon smiled and muttered to himself, "Her father
said she was a bit stubborn, but I'll see that she gets over it!"