When they seated themselves in their carriage, they seemed to be greater strangers than before.
It had been decided that the wedding feast should be a family affair at a little restaurant on the heights of Belleville.

The Michauds and Grivet alone were invited.

Until six in the evening, the wedding party drove along the boulevards, and then repaired to the cheap eating-house where a table was spread with seven covers in a small private room painted yellow, and reeking of dust and wine.
The repast was not accompanied by much gaiety.

The newly married pair were grave and thoughtful.

Since the morning, they had been experiencing strange sensations, which they did not seek to fathom.