Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images available at The Internet Archive) [Illustration] _THE REPENTANT HUSBAND_ _Jacques no longer had the strength to spurn him; Edouard approached Adeline and threw himself at her feet, placing his head against the ground, and sobbing piteously._ NOVELS BY Paul de Kock VOLUME XVII BROTHER JACQUES [Illustration: PRINTED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH GEORGE BARRIE’S SONS] THE JEFFERSON PRESS BOSTON NEW YORK I A WEDDING PARTY AT THE CADRAN-BLEU.--THE MURVILLE FAMILY It is midnight; whence come these joyful shouts, these bursts of laughter, these outcries, this music, this singing, this uproar? Pause a moment on the boulevard, in front of the Cadran-Bleu; follow the example of those folk who look on at all the wedding parties, all the banquets, which take place at the restaurants on Boulevard du Temple, by walking in front of the windows, or in the roadway, and who enjoy comfortably the spectacle of a ladies’ chain, a waltz, or a chocolate cream,--at the risk, however, of being jostled by passers-by, splashed by carriages and insulted by drivers. But at midnight the idlers, the loiterers, or the loungers--whichever you may choose to call them--have returned home; nothing remains in front of the door of the Cadran-Bleu except cabs or private carriages, according as the guests choose to assume an air of greater or less importance; but that is the hour at which the tableau becomes more interesting, more varied, more animated; for not until then do the guests begin to become really acquainted. But, you will ask me, what is the occasion of this assemblage at the Cadran-Bleu? Is it a birthday party, an anniversary, or a banquet of some society? Better than any of these; it is a wedding party. A wedding party! What a world of reflections those words arouse! To how many thoughts, hopes, and memories they give rise! How fast they make the young girl’s heart beat, who sighs for the moment to come when she will be the heroine of that great day, when she will carry that pretty white bouquet, that wreath of orange blossoms, the symbols of modesty and of maidenhood, which have unhappily lied to more than one husband who has never boasted about it, and for a good reason! But how the thought of that ceremony saddens the young wife, but a few years married, who already has ceased to know happiness except in her memory! She trembles for the lot of the poor child who is pledging herself! She remembers the day of her own wedding, the ardor and zealous attentions of her husband; she compares that day with those that have followed, and realizes how much confidence can be placed in the vows of man.