To judge of Monsieur Robineau's skill by his outward appearance, I
should have said that he was professionally unsuccessful, and supplied
his own wardrobe from the misfits returned by his customers. He wore a
waistcoat which was considerably too long for him, trousers which were
considerably too short, and a green cloth coat with a high velvet collar
which came up nearly to the tops of his ears. In respect of personal
characteristics, Monsieur Robineau and his wife were the most admirable
contrast imaginable. Monsieur Robineau was short; Madame Robineau was
tall. Monsieur Robineau was as plump and rosy as a robin; Madame
Robineau was pale and bony to behold. Monsieur Robineau looked the soul
of good nature, ready to chirrup over his _grog-au-vin,_ to smoke a pipe
with his neighbor, to cut a harmless joke or enjoy a harmless frolic, as
cheerfully as any little tailor that ever lived; Madame Robineau, on the
contrary, preserved a dreadful dignity, and looked as if she could laugh
at nothing on this side of the grave. Not to consider the question too
curiously, I should have said, at first sight, that Monsieur Robineau
stood in no little awe of his wife, and that Madame Robineau was the
very head and front of their domestic establishment.

It was wonderful and delightful to see how Captain Dalrymple placed
himself on the best of terms with all these good people--how he patted
Robineau on the back and complimented Madame, banished the cloud from
André's brow, and summoned a smile to the pretty cheek of Suzette. One
would have thought he had known them for years already, so thoroughly
was he at home with every member of the wedding party.

Presently, he asked Suzette to dance. She blushed scarlet, and cast a
pretty appealing look at her husband and her mother. I could almost
guess what she whispered to the former by the motion of her lips.