The witnesses, not knowing what was proper, remained standing during the ceremony.

Mother Coupeau was weeping again and shedding her tears into the missal she had borrowed from a neighbor.
Meanwhile, the noon chimes had sounded and the church began to fill with noise from the shuffling feet of sacristans and the clatter of chairs being put back in place.

The high altar was apparently being prepared for some special ceremony.
Thus, in the depths of this obscure chapel, amid the floating dust, the surly priest placed his withered hands on the bared heads of Gervaise and Coupeau, blessing their union amid a hubbub like that of moving day.
The wedding party signed another registry, this time in the sacristy, and then found themselves out in the bright sunlight before the church doors where they stood for a moment, breathless and confused from having been carried along at such a break-neck speed.
"Voila!" said Coupeau with an embarrassed laugh.

"Well, it sure didn't take long.

They shove it at you so; it's like being at the painless dentist's who doesn't give you time to cry out.