CHAPTER I.

A WEDDING.

It is midnight; whence those shouts, those peals of laughter, those songs, the noisy music, and the racket that rings in our ears? Stop for a moment on the boulevard, before the CadranBleu (the Blue Dial); do like those good men who assist at every wedding and at all the feasts that take place at the restaurateurs of the boulevard du Temple, promenading before the windows or in the kennel, and who enjoy agreeably the perspective of "right and left," of a waltz, or of a creme au chocolat, at the risk, however, of being elbowed by the passengers, splashed by the carriages, and insulted by the coachmen.

But, at midnight, the flaneurs (loungers), the cocknies, or the loiterers (which you please to name them), are departed; there only remain before the door of the Cadran-Bleu some carriages or cabs, according to the greater or lesser importance of the guests. It is, notwithstanding, at this hour that the tableau becomes more piquant, varied, and animated; for it is not until then that it begins to become known to us.

"Well," you say to me, "what, then, is the motive for this merry meeting at the Cadran-Bleu? is it a fête, an anniversary, a dinner?" Better than all these-it is a wedding.

A wedding!-how many reflexions that word inspires! what thoughts, hopes, and recollections! how it makes the maiden's heart beat who sighs for the moment when she shall be the heroine of so great an event, when she shall bear that pretty white bouquet, that orange-flower bonnet, symbol of modesty and virginity, which has, unhappily, lied to more than one bridegroom. But how the sight of this ceremony saddens the mind of that young woman, married but a few years since, and who already knows nothing of happiness except by remembrance! She trembles for the fate of the poor girl who is now engaged; she recollects the day of her marriage, the eagerness and ardour of her spouse; she compares that day with those which have followed it, and she knows what confidence ought to be placed in the oaths of men.

But let us leave these reflexions. Let us enter the CadranBleu, and become acquainted with the principal personages congregated there, whom, probably, we shall have occasion to see again in the course of this history. Let us commence with the bridegroom.

Edward Murville is twenty-five years of age; he is of the middle height, with an agreeable figure, a pleasing voice, and a graceful manner. He has the common talents, plays passably on the violin, sings with taste, and dances with grace; bears his part well in conversation, knows the customs of good society, and how to enter and quit an apartment: which, by-the-bye, is not quite so easy an affair as some people believe. Eh! what?" I think I hear my reader say, "does this man think we do not know how to walk, to bow, and to present ourselves gracefully?" God forbid that I should pass such a judgment on people who dance well; but in all there are varieties, and it is from these that I draw my observations. A very witty lady, but rather castic, near whom I was seated very lately in the salon of a fiveier, uttered the following remarks, which, in general, will found just.

"Examine with me," she said, "the people who enter this apartment; ! engage to divine their characters, their disposition, by the manner in which they present themselves. See that great lady who passes through the assembly without deigning

to bestow on it the least mark of recognition-there, she se herself before the fire, places her feet on the fender, and establish herself in the best place, without caring the least whether incommodes those seated behind her. What think you of th woman?"

"That she has great pretensions, and wishes to put in her toilette as an evidence."

"That is not all-add that she is a fool. A woman of with a thousand ways of making it known without giving hers ridiculous airs, and when she has the pretension to shine, s knows at least how to do so artfully, and does not look disdain on those who appear old-fashioned, or whose toilette been a little neglected. Good heavens! what hubbub is that the antechamber? Is it the arrival of a virtuoso? is it a taret turned inside out? The host is running thither let us go learn what it is--Ah! I recognise that voice; it is Monsie J-Stop, listen, you can easily hear him here.".

"Ah! my dear friend! I am in despair at arriving so late. I am quite confused! I know not whether I ought to ente my appearance is as bad as a thief's! I will hide myself in

corner!"

"Ah, well!" said my fair neighbour to of this gentleman, who wishes not to be loud that every eye is turned upon him? himself, notwithstanding."

me," what think y seen, and yet bawls Ah! he prevails of

I expected to see a giddy young man enter; instead of whi I beheld a man of some forty or fifty years of age, with a flax wig, grimacing and bowing right and left, smiling almost agre ably.

What is this gentlemen?" I enquired of my neighbour. "Monsieur Jis the universal man; he knows all Pa belongs to all circles, but especially to the musical. He pla on three or four instruments. There is not an amateur conc but he makes one; not an artist but he knows. You can jung by his entrance here, that his happiness consists in ma sensation; I do not draw from this a very favourable augu his talents; for, you know, merit never has the habit of tras ing itself forward. Mediocrity, on the contrary, makes a 277 uproar, puts itself in the front row, wishes to usurp all, ar always succeeds in dazzling fools.

"But I perceive a new figure: it is a young man; he at a rate has made no noise; he enters so softly that he is hard heard he makes a half bow-remains by the door-cre along the wall, and at length gains a chair, on which he riedly seats himself, and from there he will not budge, I warr you, during the whole evening. Poor lad! he is yet very as ward! he moves his mouth, winks, knows not what to do w his hands. I'll be sworn he believes all the women in the r are gazing at him. In general I have remarked that timid awkwardness even, often proceeds from excess of pretensi the fear of appearing ridiculous, or of not having a sufficien seducing air, gives to the deportment this embarrassment the figure this comic expression. To convince yourself of t examine at the theatre some young actors, who are not bad formers, and who would perhaps play even well if they were always occupied with their collars, cravats, postures, and effect their figures ought to make on the house."

My charming companion continued her observations, an reader, would willingly communicate them to you, if I did begin to perceive that it was not to hear me talk with her, bu know the adventures of Brother James, that you opened t book; a thousand pardons for rambling to the financier's.

return to the Cadran-Bleu.

You know that it is the wedding of Edward Murville that is eing celebrated; that he is twenty-five years old, and is a retty fellow enough. But you don't know his wife yet; I shall asten to repair this forgetfulness, for she is handsome, amiable, fable, and intelligent.

Adeline Germeuil is eighteen years of age, and has all those Bandishments which seduce us first and attach us afterwards; me eyes, fine teeth, grace, freshness, wit without malice, gayety, etry, grace without affectation, and modesty without timidity. he knows her own possessions, but does not think that all men bound to render her homage in consequence of them; she bres pleasure, but does not make its pursuit her only occupaa. In fine, she is a woman such as-it is very agreeable to neet, especially when one is a youth.

Adeline loves Edward, she has preferred him to many more antageous offers; for Edward has nothing for a fortune but place which he occupies in a public office, whilst Adeline an income of about fifteen thousand livres; but MademoiGermeuil has no ambition; she places her happiness in the ures of the mind, and not in the circumstance of a greater esfortune. Besides, with an income of fifteen thousand [a livre is tenpence English], it is quite possible to live out suffering privation, more especially if one is married to in of business who knows how to conduct his house. Now, Varville was such a man; he had all the necessary qualitiesw pleased. Mademoiselle Germeuil had no relative but her mother, a spectable woman, who adored her daughter and had no desire contradict any of her wishes. It was her duty, however, to th over the future happiness of Adeline; so, having perved the love of her daughter for Edward, she hastened to s the state of the young man's morals and the nature of his mily.

learnt that he was born of parents in easy circumstances; at his father had followed with honour the career of the bar; at some bankruptcies had reduced the family of Murville to Arrow competency. Edward and James were the only chilof M. Murville. James was younger than Edward by one but Madame Murville had never looked with equal tenmess on the two children; Edward was always preferred. A nstance, very frivolous in appearance, had influenced the ments of Madame Murville. She had little intellect and vanity; every puerility of society was held in great by her. When she became pregnant for the first time, ther wits upon the rack to know what name she should the infant: she wished to find one very graceful, sweet, ingué; after long debates and profound reflexion, she Edward for a boy, and Celenie for a girl, M. Murng left the whole matter to her. irst-born was a boy; it received the name of Edward, sessed all the love of its mother. When she grew pregagain, she never doubted for a moment that it was a pretty Celenie that she was going to bring into the world; the of a girl would have fulfilled all her desires-and after sufferings a thumping boy appeared!

may be easily conceived that he was not so well received the first. Besides she had never counted on a boy, and had Mtudied what name to give it. But this time such cogitations od bave been superfluous, for M. Murville announced to his that he had a friend who desired to be godfather to the This friend was very rich, they were under obligations m and could not refuse his desire to be godfather. He then, the infant, and, to the great scandal of Madame arille, gave him the name of JAMES. deed, though James may be a name like any other, it is not harmonious, and wounded the delicate ear of Madame erville, who maintained that James-JEM! was the name of acquey, of a Savoyard, of an errand-boy, and that it was seful to call her son by such an appellation-JAMES, indeed! vain her husband tried to make her hear reason, and cited ry moment the history of Scotland, where we see many meses holding the throne. Madame Murville could never nounce this name without a sigh.

There was, however, no means of changing it, for the goder, who, of course, was also named James, and came often see his godson, would have been very much shocked to hear aim called otherwise. The little fellow, then, remained James,

to the great vexation of Madame Murville. As to Edward, either from malice on his part, or from finding the name pleasing, he was bawling brother Jem every moment of the day; and whenever he had played any prank, it was always placed on brother Jem's back.

The two brothers were very much opposed in character. Edward was collected, modest, complaisant, willingly passing the day seated near his mother; James, blustering, noisy, passionate, never remained a moment in one place, and put every thing topsy-turvy. Edward understood easily what was taught him; James threw into the fire his books and pens that he might make a hoop or a wooden sword.

At length, at sixteen years of age, Edward went into society with his parents; he knew already how to listen to a conversation, and to smile agreeably at a pretty miss.

At fifteen James quitted the paternal roof; he disappeared without leaving any letter, any trace by which to discover his projects or the object of his travels. All possible enquiries and search were made; he was advertised in the newspapers; but it was not discovered what had become of him. They waited for news of him; it never arrived.

M. Murville was much grieved at the flight of the harebrained boy; Madame Murville herself felt that she was a mother, and that he might be called James and Jem and yet be her son; she repented of her unjust prejudice, she reproached herself, but it was too late! The unhappy name had produced its effect! It had closed the heart of James's mother; it had drawn upon him the railleries of his brother; and perhaps these united had driven the young man far from his parents. Who knows? there are many strange accidents in life. lately caught the measles," said a young man to me yesterday, "because a shoemaker of a lady of my acquaintance broke his spectacles." "What connexion," said I to him, "can there be between your measles and a shoemaker's spectacles?"

"I

"This is it, my dear fellow. This lady had promised to meet me one evening to have a little music at a friend's. She expected that morning to have a pretty pair of cherry coloured shoes to match with her dress; the shoemaker had broken his spectacles on the day he took her measure; he brought a pair of charming shoes, but they were too little. The desire to try them on, however, vs not to be resisted; they cramped her feet very much, but in walking, the shoemaker assured her, they would do very well. The ladies like to have a small foot. She went out in them, ping a little; arrived in the boulevard, and in the present some persons she was acquainted with, she did not like to have the air of hobbling along, and so forced herself to walk more elegantly; but her feet became heated, swelled up; she suffered horribly, and was forced to return home. Arrived there, she threw aside the cursed shoes, and examined her feet; they were sore and wounded; she was not able to stir out for eight days. As for me, I knew nothing of this, and went to our intended place of meeting, counting on passing the evening in playing music. I did not find the lady; the mistress of the house was alone, she was very amiable, but she was forty years of age. I found the time hang heavy; I grew impatient, and after waiting vainly for an hour, I set out, not knowing yet where I should go. I arrived before a theatre; I mechanically entered merely to kill time, for I knew the pieces by heart. I perceived a pretty face, and approached it; I addressed some words to the lady, and she replied to me, she appeared to love conversation, and I am not very difficult to please. The spectâcle concluded I offered my arm to my pretty gossip, which after some demur she accepted, and I conducted her home, not quitting her till I gained permission to wait upon her again. I did not fail to attend her on the morrow. To be brief, I became an intimate friend, and, in one of my visits I caught the measles, which this lady had without my being aware of it. So you see, if the shoemaker hadn't broken his spectacles all this wouldn't have come about."

My young friend was right; the greatest events often proceed from the most trivial causes. As to my hero, no doubt his baptismal name influenced all his destiny.

Now then you know the Murville family; it is only necessary for me to inform you of the death of the father and mother of Edward: they descended to the grave nearly at the same period, carrying with them a regret at not knowing what had become of James, and charging Edward to pardon on his part his