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"And the whole affair including correspondence, preparations of instruments, &c., will be settled in less than three months." "Three months?" "Three months. Yes, in less than three months." "Then I will live with a friend at the village, until it is finished," said Madame Lavalles, in a decided, peremptory tone, usual with ladies when they are a little ashamed of themselves, or any one else.
Early roses twined on either side the porch, and as the notary entered, nothing struck him more than the neat and cheerful appearance of the place. A demoiselle ushered him into a little parlor, where Monsieur Pierre Lavalles, and Madame Julie Lavalles, had just sat down to partake breakfast. A small table was drawn up close to the open window, and vernal breezes found welcome in the chamber.
Flowers and blossoming trees shed odor near the lattice windows, verdure soft and green was spread over the garden, and the mantling vine "laid forth the purple grape," over a rich and sunny plantation near at hand. The house was small, but neat, and well furnished in the style of the province, and Monsieur and Madame Pierre Lavalles lived very happily in plenty and content.
Like turtle-doves, with smiling eyes, and affectionate caress, they had lived in happy harmony during the seven months of their married life, and motherly dames, when they gave their daughters away, bade them prosper and be pleasant in their union, as they had been joyous in their love, pleasant and joyous, as neighbor Lavalles and his wife.
"Monsieur," he said, "I will arrange the affair for you; but you are acquainted with the laws of France in this respect!" "I know nothing of the law," replied M. Pierre Lavalles. "Madame," said the notary, "your wish shall be complied with. But you know what the law says on this head?" "I never read a law book," sharply ejaculated Madame Pierre Lavalles.
He never liked to perform any action in a common way, and never chuckled so gaily to himself, as when he had achieved some charitable end by some extraordinary means. It was seven months after the marriage of M. Pierre Lavalles, M. Antoine Perron sat in his little parlor, and gazed with a glad eye upon the cheerful fire, for the short winter was just terminating.
"We never quarreled but once since we married, and we never mean to quarrel again." "Not unless you provoke it," said Monsieur Lavalles, audaciously. "But M. Perron, you will take breakfast with us?" "You're a wicked wretch," said Madame Julie, tapping him on the cheek. "After breakfast, M. Perron, we will sign the papers." "After breakfast," said M. Pierre Lavalles, "we will burn them."
He, aghast and perplexed, waited for the denouement. "Madame," said Monsieur Pierre Lavalles, "allow me to speak." "Monsieur," said Madame Pierre Lavalles. "I insist " "But, Madame, it is my " "But, Monsieur, I say I will." "And yet I will." "But no " "Madame, I shall." "Then be careful what you do; M. Perron, M. Lavalles is mad."
Had a thunderbolt cloven the roof, and passed through his hearth to its grave in the center of the globe, or had the trees that nodded their naked branches without the window commenced a dance upon the snowy ground, he had not been more surprised. Monsieur Pierre Lavalles, and Madame Pierre Lavalles stood just inside the doorway. Never had Monsieur Perron seen them before, as he saw them now.
Monsieur Pierre Lavalles then lived in a pretty house, near a certain village in a vine-growing district of the south of France, and when he took his young wife home, he showed her great stores of excellent things, calculated well for the comfortable subsistence of a youthful and worthy couple.
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