found in the ground like a truffle; the other, descended from heaven, has just divided among us her belt."
He meant her garter.
"My son, choose between the Roman Venus and the Catalan the one you prefer. The rascal takes the Catalan, and his choice is the best. The Roman is black, the Catalan is white. The Roman is cold, the Catalan enflames all who approach her."
This equivocal allusion excited such a shout, such noisy applause, and sonorous laughter, that I thought the ceiling would fall on our heads. Around the table there were but three serious faces, those of the newly-married couple and mine. I had a terrible headache; and besides, I do not know why, a wedding always saddens me. This one, moreover, even disgusted me a little.
The final verses having been sung,—and very lively they were, I must say,—every one adjourned to the drawing-room to enjoy the withdrawal of the bride, who, as it was nearly midnight, was soon to be conducted to her room.
M. Alphonse drew me into the embrasure of a window, and, turning away his eyes, said:
"You will laugh at me—But I don't know what is the matter with me . . . I am bewitched!"
My first thought was that he fancied himself threatened with one of those misfortunes of