Chapter XX: Unexpected Meeting at a Wedding

Within a week from the day of his departure the Señor Zuniga returned to Paris.

He found such favor in the eyes of the baroness, that he became an habitué of the house.

They were, indeed, often closeted together in long interviews that set Aunt Sophie and Lilith to speculating.

“I think it is something about you, honey. Indeed, I feel sure of it!” said the old lady to her young favorite; and in fact she was right, as the event proved.

Aunt Sophie herself had grown to be more and more of a favorite with every member of the family.

The baroness, without consulting her companion, had put the old lady in possession of much of Lilith’s history that had hitherto been kept from her.

Madame Von Bruyin had also explained to Mrs. Downie that she should remain at the house as companion and protectress to Lilith while the soon-to-be-wedded couple should be on their wedding tour.

And Aunt Sophie, with many deprecating sighs and self-disparaging disclaimers, had finally consented to do so.

“And while we are gone, Monsieur Le Grange and Lilith can show you all the wonders of Paris and its environs,” Madame Von Bruyin added, as an inducement or a consolation.

“I am sure I have already seen more than I ever expected to see in all the days of my life,” said the old lady, with simple candor.

Preparations for the marriage went steadily on.

Paris was beginning to fill with fashionables, returning from the sea shore or mountain height. The wedding cards were out. Some of the most unique jewels and costumes prepared for the occasion were on exhibition in the show-cases of the most recherché bazaars.

The public journals were sparkling with descriptions of the costly presents in course of preparation.

The Prince Gherardini had arrived in town and taken apartments at the Grand Hotel du Louvre.

The princely wedding was to be the opening event of the season.

The two sisters of the prince, the Princesses Bianca and Julietta, were to be the first and second bridesmaids, and six young ladies, selected from the most noble families of the French capital, were to complete the bridal retinue.

On Monday of the last week in November, a small party collected in the little salon of the maison to witness the signing of the marriage contract.

This party consisted of the Baroness Von Bruyin, Monsieur Le Grange, Lilith Hereward, Señor Zuniga and Mrs. Downie, on the part of the bride elect, and Prince Gherardini, the Princesses Bianca and Julietta, and the Marquis Orsini, on the part of the bridegroom.

Besides these there were two notaries public with their clerks.

On this occasion the baroness was richly dressed in a Mazarin blue velvet, trained, and trimmed with ermine, and ornaments of pearls and sapphire.

The two young princesses wore white satin embroidered with rosebuds.

Lilith, ruby velvet, point lace and pearls.

Aunt Sophie, black satin, with white lace shawl and white lace cap—all presents from the baroness.

The gentlemen wore the conventional black swallow-tail coat, black vest and black trousers, with white neck-tie and white gloves.

When the contract was signed the whole party adjourned to the dining-salon, where a rich and rare repast was spread for their refreshment.

And after this they separated amid hearty congratulations.

The next day, Tuesday, the same party met at the Mairie, where the civil ceremony, which the French law requires, was duly observed.

But the grand pageant of the ecclesiastical rites came off at the Church of St. Genevieve about noon on Thursday.

At an early hour of the forenoon the church was crowded with the nobility, fashion and beauty of Paris.

The Archbishop of ——, attended by two bishops, all in their sacred vestments, were in readiness to officiate.

At half-past eleven the bridal train entered the church.

First came the bride, leaning on the arm of her old friend, the Duc de L——. She was, of course, the observed of all observers. She wore a trained dress of white Genoa velvet, richly embroidered with seed pearls and trimmed with marabout feathers. Being a widow, she wore no orange blossoms; but her golden tresses were crowned with a diadem of pearls and diamonds in three bands, while down on the graceful neck floated a tuft of marabout feathers and over all the sumptuous costume flowed a rich old cardinal point lace vail. Pearl and diamond necklace in a dozen graded festoons encircled her fair neck and lay upon her white bosom. Pearl and diamond bracelets clasped the lovely arms. Kid gloves, embroidered with small pearls, and trimmed with point lace, covered the slender yet plump hands. White boots to match the gloves encased the shapely feet. In her hand she carried a bouquet of rare white exotics.

Behind her followed eight bridesmaids, in thread lace dresses, looped with rosebuds, over white silk skirts; white gloves, wreaths and bouquets of white rosebuds.

Lilith wore a trained dress of ivory white brocade satin, trimmed with duchess lace; pearl necklace and bracelets on her pretty neck and arms, and a pearl bandeau in her dark hair.

Aunt Sophie was very grand in a black flowered satin, a black velvet dolman, and a black plush bonnet—all the gifts forced upon her acceptance by the baroness. The bridegroom, with his attendants, came out of the vestry as the bride’s party filed up the aisle to the music of Mendelssohn’s wedding march.

The two parties met at the altar and kneeled upon the hassocks prepared for them.

The music ceased, and the ceremony began. It was rather more lengthy, stately and solemn than such rites usually are. But at last it was over; the benediction was pronounced; the register was signed and witnessed; intimate friends crowded around the newly married pair with congratulations more or less sincere.

It was one o’clock before the bridal cortège and the wedding congregation entered their carriages and dispersed, to meet again at four o’clock at the reception to be held at the home of the bride.

At the hour fixed the guests began to arrive, and soon all the reception-rooms were filled with one of the most brilliant crowds that had ever assembled in Paris salons.

The whole house, profusely decorated with the rarest flowers, was thrown open to the guests.

One room of the suite was given up to the exhibition of the wedding presents; tables arranged around the walls and set here and there through the room, were laden with the richest, rarest and most beautiful products of modern art and science in manufactures. Jewels that seemed poems; watches that seemed vital; India shawls that were perfect studies of finest workmanship; services of gold, pearl, porcelain of wonderful grace and elegance in form; laces and embroideries of marvelous pattern and design; dress fabrics of velvet, satin, silk, crêpe, gauze, and so forth, that seemed woven for the wearing of goddesses and fairies rather than for clothing any woman of mere flesh and blood.

This room possessed a great charm for lady guests, who crowded it during the whole two hours of the reception.

Another room was elegantly fitted up for refreshments, that were laid upon many small tables, with services of pure gold and fine porcelain, and attended by servants out of livery who wore the evening dress of gentlemen, varied only by white satin vests, kid gloves and fragrant boutonnières.

Here the greatest skill of the best caterer in Paris had been expended in the many tempting delicacies of the table; and the rarest wines of the southern vineyards added their serpent charm to the feast.

This room found greatest favor from the elder ladies and the gentlemen.

But, after all, the most charming apartment of the many that were thrown open was that in which the bride and groom, the Prince and Princess Gherardini, received their guests.

They stood together near the door. Behind the princess were grouped her eight lovely bridesmaids, and near them sat Aunt Sophie, trying to keep herself out of sight, but enjoying the scene with all the zest of the youngest girl there. On the left of the princess stood Lilith, looking, every one said, the loveliest woman present. She still wore the rich but simple dress of ivory white brocade, and the ornaments of pearl on her bosom, on her arms and in her black hair; and now her cheeks and lips were flushed, and her eyes were brilliant with sympathetic excitement. Lilith, however, had acquired all the ease and grace of the bon ton, so that her animation only added glow and sparkle to her lovely face, and left her form and manner in perfect repose.

The baroness—I beg her pardon—the newly-wedded princess took care to present every one who approached the group to her friend, “Mrs. Wyvil.” And every one went away to talk of the beautiful creature. Some to ask others who this lovely Mrs. Wyvil could be; and to be told that she was a very wealthy young American widow, who had made a great sensation during the last season, but who was understood to be on the eve of marriage with some distinguished American statesman, whose name had escaped the memory of the latter, and so forth.

The princess perceived and enjoyed the triumph of her young protégée, even in the midst of her own bridal ovation; and occasionally a humorous smile curled her beautiful lips and lighted her blue eyes, as if she was enjoying in anticipation some rare, good jest; and semi-occasionally, as it were, she slightly craned her graceful neck and tried to look through the nearer crowd and beyond towards the approaching one.

“For whom are you watching, madame?” inquired the prince, in a low voice, as soon as he got an opportunity to speak to his bride.

“Oh, for an old friend of mine whom I particularly pressed to come to us to-day,” replied the princess. “And there he is, slowly working his way through this human thicket,” she added, as her eyes lighted up with animation.

The prince looked, but there were so many gentlemen approaching from the same direction that he could not distinguish the especial person of whom the lady spoke.

Meanwhile the stranger in question came on, not pushing his way, but rather tacking, like a craft sailing against wind and tide, and suffering himself to be driven this way and that, but always slowly nearing “port.”

As he came on, the topic of the hour, the praises of the new beauty—the lovely Mrs. Wyvil—met his ears from all sides—her grace, her wit, her genius, her elegance, her accomplishments were the theme of the salon.

“Wyvil!” he said to himself—“Wyvil! the name is certainly not a common one! Who can she be, I wonder? An American, too! I must see this belle.”

The princess, still watching the approach of the stranger, turned to Lilith for an instant and said:

“My love, I wish you would speak to dear Aunt Sophie. There she sits, hiding behind you, quite neglected.”

Lilith at once turned around and opened a conversation with the good old lady by asking:

“What do you think of all this?”

“Oh, honey, I’m half scared and half delighted, you know. ’Pears to me I don’t know whether I’m in a dream of heaven!” replied the dazed and delighted old lady.

Meanwhile the stranger came up to the bridal group, bowed low before the princess, bowed to the prince, and then spoke the required words of congratulation, and was about to pass on and give place to others who were pressing forward to pay their respects when the princess, laying a light, detaining hand upon his arm, said:

“Pardon. One moment, if you please. I wish to introduce you to a fair compatriot of yours.”

“I thank your highness. I shall be most happy,” replied the new-comer.

“Lilith, my love,” said the princess, in a low voice, to the young lady behind her.

Lilith turned at once.

“Mrs. Wyvil, my dear, permit me to present to you Mr. Tudor Hereward, American Chargé d’Affaires to our Court.”