Guy de Maupassant complete short stories volume 2 - Penn State ...

They directed their steps toward the mayor’s office. Behind
the pair about to be wedded a peasant woman carried Victor’s
child, as if it were going to be baptized; and the risen, in pairs
now, with arms linked, walked through the snow with the movements
of a sloop at sea.
After having been united by the mayor in the little municipal
house the pair were made one by the cure, in his turn, in
the modest house of God. He blessed their union by promising
them fruitfulness, then he preached to them on the matrimonial
virtues, the simple and healthful virtues of the country,
work, concord and fidelity, while the child, who was cold, began
to fret behind the bride.
As soon as the couple reappeared on the threshold of the
church shots were discharged from the ditch of the cemetery.
Only the barrels of the guns could be seen whence came forth
rapid jets of smoke; then a head could be seen gazing at the
procession. It was Victor Lecoq celebrating the marriage of his
old sweetheart, wishing her happiness and sending her his good
wishes with explosions of powder. He had employed some friends
of his, five or six laboring men, for these salvos of musketry. It
was considered a nice attention.
The repast was given in Polyte Cacheprune’s inn. Twenty
covers were laid in the great hall where people dined on mar-
Old Amable
214
ket days, and the big leg of mutton turning before the spit, the
fowls browned under their own gravy, the chitterlings sputtering
over the bright, clear fire filled the house with a thick odor
of live coal sprinkled with fat—the powerful, heavy odor of
rustic fare.
They sat down to table at midday and the soup was poured at
once into the plates. All faces had already brightened up; mouths
opened to utter loud jokes and eyes were laughing with knowing
winks. They were going to amuse themselves and no mistake.
The door opened, and old Amable appeared. He seemed in a
bad humor and his face wore a scowl as he dragged himself
forward on his sticks, whining at every step to indicate his suffering.
As soon as they saw him they stopped talking, but suddenly
his neighbor, Daddy Malivoire, a big joker, who knew all
the little tricks and ways of people, began to yell, just as Cesaire
used to do, by making a speaking-trumpet of his hands.
“Hallo, my cute old boy, you have a good nose on you to be
able to smell Polyte’s cookery from your own house!”
A roar of laughter burst forth from the throats of those present.
Malivoire, excited by his success, went on:
“There’s nothing for the rheumatics like a chitterling poultice!
It keeps your belly warm, along with a glass of three-six!”