It was in vain that they specified, saying:
“That is for you, Pierrot.” Pierrot
evidently got nothing.
The two women, dumfounded, looked at each other and
Mme. Lefevre said in a sour tone:
“I could not feed all the dogs they throw in
there! We must give it up.”
And, suffocating at the thought of all the dogs living
at her expense, she went away, even carrying back
what remained of the bread, which she ate as she walked
along.
Rose followed her, wiping her eyes on the corner of
her blue apron.
It was a wedding procession that was coming along
the road between the tall trees that bounded the farms
and cast their shadow on the road. At the head
were the bride and groom, then the family, then the
invited guests, and last of all the poor of the neighborhood.
The village urchins who hovered about the narrow road
like flies ran in and out of the ranks or climbed
up the trees to see it better.
The bridegroom was a good-looking young fellow, Jean
Patu, the richest farmer in the neighborhood, but
he was above all things, an ardent sportsman who seemed
to take leave of his senses in order to satisfy that
passion, and who spent large sums on his dogs, his
keepers, his ferrets and his guns. The bride,
Rosalie Roussel, had been courted by all the likely
young fellows in the district, for they all thought
her handsome and they knew that she would have a good
dowry. But she had chosen Patu; partly, perhaps,
because she liked him better than she did the others,
but still more, like a careful Normandy girl, because
he had more crown pieces.
As they entered the white gateway of the husband’s
farm, forty shots resounded without their seeing those
who fired, as they were hidden in the ditches.
The noise seemed to please the men, who were slouching
along heavily in their best clothes, and Patu left
his wife, and running up to a farm servant whom he
perceived behind a tree, took his gun and fired a
shot himself, as frisky as a young colt. Then
they went on, beneath the apple trees which were heavy
with fruit, through the high grass and through the
midst of the calves, who looked at them with their
great eyes, got up slowly and remained standing, with
their muzzles turned toward the wedding party.
The men became serious when they came within measurable
distance of the wedding dinner. Some of them,
the rich ones, had on tall, shining silk hats, which
seemed altogether out of place there; others had old
head-coverings with a long nap, which might have been
taken for moleskin, while the humblest among them
wore caps. All the women had on shawls, which
they wore loosely on their back, holding the tips ceremoniously
under their arms. They were red, parti-colored,
flaming shawls, and their brightness seemed to astonish
the black fowls on the dung-heap, the ducks on the
side of the pond and the pigeons on the thatched roofs.
