baron de Rouvière," throwing to the lawyer a fine bunch of papers
bearing witness to the validity of the title; after which he added, no
less proudly, "wine-merchant, wholesale and retail, at the sign of the
Golden Chickens, Noisy."

[Illustration: SQUARE OF THE HÔTEL DE VILLE, BRUSSELS.]

In truth, Joliet's father had rightfully borne the title of baron de
Rouvière, but, ruined by '48, had abandoned the practice of signing
it. Joliet resumed it for this special occasion, having every warrant
for the act, but whispered to me that he should never so call himself
in future, greatly preferring the enumeration of his qualities on his
business-card.

Poor Francine meanwhile had looked so timid and blushed so that Frau
Kranich nodded to her permission of absence. She gave one glance at
Fortnoye, buried her face in her hands, laughed a sweet little gurgle,
and fled. When her presence was again necessary, she reappeared,
drowned in white. We went to the mayor's office, where she lost a
pretty little surname that had always seemed to fit her like a
glove; then to the church, an obscure one in the neighborhood of Frau
Kranich's house. But at the door of the sacred edifice the elder lady
said, with much conciliatory grace in her manner, "I claim exemption
from witnessing this part of the ceremony; and you, Mr. Flemming, must
resume or discover your Protestantism and enter the carriage with
me. I must show you a little of the city while these young birds are
pairing."

No objection was made to this rather strange proposal. The bride,
between her father and husband, forgot that she had no friend of her