"Come on! Let us start," said another. Those rose up. Then Cesaire, whom a feeling of uneasiness had taken possession of, climbed up the ladder of the loft to see whether his father was ready. The old man, always as a rule an early riser, had not yet made his appearance. His son found him on his bed of straw, wrapped up in his blanket, with his eyes open, and a malicious look in them. He bawled out into his ear: "Come, daddy, get up. 'Tis the time for the wedding." The deaf man murmured in a doleful tone: "I can't, I have a sort of cold over me that freezes my back. I can't stir." The young man, dumbfounded, stared at him, guessing that this was a dodge. "Come, daddy, we must force you to go." "Look here! I'll help you." And he stooped towards the old man, pulled off his blanket, caught him by the arm and lifted him up. But the old Amable began to whine: "Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! What suffering! Ooh! I can't. My back is stiffened up. 'Tis the wind that must have rushed in through this cursed roof." "Well, you'll have no dinner, as I'm having a spread at Polyte's inn. This will teach you what comes of acting mulishly." And he hurried down the ladder, then set out for his destination, accompanied by his relatives and guests. The men had turned up their trousers so as not to soil the ends of them in the snow. The women held up their petticoats and showed their lean ankles, their gray woolen stockings, and their bony shanks resembling broomsticks. And they all moved forward balancing themselves on their legs, one behind the other without uttering a word in a very gingerly fashion through caution lest they might miss their way owing to flat, uniform uninterrupted sweep of snow that obliterated the track. As they approached some of the farm houses, they saw one or two persons waiting to join them, and the procession went on without stopping, and wound its way forward, following the invisible outlines of the road, so that it resembled a living chaplet with black beads undulating through the white country side. In front of the bride's door, a large group was stamping up and down the open space awaiting the bridegroom. When he appeared they gave him a loud greeting; and presently, Celeste came forth from her room, clad in a blue dress, her shoulders covered with a small red shawl, and her head adorned with orange-flowers. But everyone asked Cesaire: "Where's your father?" he replied with embarrassment. "He couldn't move on account of the pains." And the farmers tossed their heads with an incredulous and waggish air. They directed their steps towards the Mayor's office. Behind the pair about to be wedded, a peasant woman carried Victor's child, as if it were going to be baptized; and the male peasants, in pairs, now went on, with arms linked, through the snow with the movements of a sloop at sea.