He is taking the plunge of his own free will, there is no need for me to shove him off the precipice." The ceremony took place next day.

Quennebert conducted his interesting bride to the altar, she hung with ornaments like the shrine of a saint, and, beaming all over with smiles, looked so ridiculous that the handsome bridegroom reddened to the roots of his hair with shame.

Just as they entered the church, a coffin, on which lay a sword, and which was followed by a single mourner, who from his manners and dress seemed to belong to the class of nobles, was carried in by the same door.

The wedding guests drew back to let the funeral pass on, the living giving precedence to the dead.

The solitary mourner glanced by chance at Quennebert, and started as if the sight of him was painful.
"What an unlucky meeting!" murmured Madame Rapally; "it is sure to be a bad omen." "It's sure to be the exact opposite," said Quennebert smiling.
The two ceremonies took place simultaneously in two adjoining chapels; the funeral dirges which fell on the widow's ear full of sinister prediction seemed to have quite another meaning for Quennebert, for his features lost their look of care, his wrinkles smoothed themselves out, till the guests, among whom was Trumeau, who did not suspect the secret of his relief from suspense, began to believe, despite their surprise, that he was really rejoiced at obtaining legal possession of the charming Madame Rapally.
As for her, she fleeted the daylight hours by anticipating the joyful moment when she would have her husband all to herself.