"I recollect, too, when mamma asked how my skirt had got torn, I felt that I was blushing up to my ears. And Madame D., that old jaundiced fairy, who said to me with her Lenten smile, 'How flushed you are tonight, my dear child!' I could have strangled her! I said it was the key of the door that had caught it. I looked at you out of the corner of my eye; you were pulling your moustache and seemed greatly annoyed--you are keeping all the truffles for yourself; that is kind--not that one; I want the big black one there in the corner-it was very wrong all the same, for--oh! not quite full--I do not want to be tipsy--for, after all, if we had not been married--and that might have happened, for you know they say that marriages only depend on a thread. Well, if the thread had not been strong enough, I should have remained a maid with a kiss on my shoulder, and a nice thing that would have been." "Bah! it does not stain." "Yes, Monsieur, it does, I beg your pardon. It stains so much that there are husbands, I believe, who even shed their blood to wash out such little stains." "But I was joking, dear. Hang it!--don't you think--yes, certainly, hang it!" "Ah! that's right, I like to see you angry. You are a trifle jealous, dear--oh! that is too bad; I asked you for the big black one, and you have gone and eaten it." "I am sorry, dear; I quite forgot about it." "It was the same at the Town Hall, where I was obliged to jog your elbow to make you answer 'Yes' to the Mayor's kind words." "Kind!" "Yes, kind. I thought him charming. No one could have been more graceful than he was in addressing me. 'Mademoiselle, will you consent to accept for your husband that great, ugly fellow standing beside you?'" (Laughing, with her mouth full.) "I wanted to say to him, 'Let us come to an understanding, Mr. Mayor; there is something to be said on either side.' I am choking!"--she bursts out laughing-- "I was wrong not to impose restrictions. Your health, dear! I am teasing you; it is very stupid. I said 'Yes' with all my heart, I can assure you, dear, and I thought the word too weak a one. When I think that all women, even the worst, say that word, I feel ashamed not to have found another." Holding out her glass: "To our golden wedding--will you touch glasses?" "And to his baptism, little mamma." In a low voice: "Tell me--are you sorry you married me?" Laughing, "Yes." Kissing her on the shoulder, "I think I have found the stain again; it was just there." "It is two in the morning, the fire is out, and I am a little--you won't laugh now? Well, I am a little dizzy." "A capital pie, eh?" "A capital pie! We shall have a cup of tea for breakfast tomorrow, shall we not?" CHAPTER XVIII FROM ONE THING TO ANOTHER