‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. You don't know what you have got; I do. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “these gentlemen are your friends, and therefore they are my friends. How dreary it all looks. The woman I wanted was another man's wife.
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