The saltworks were
doing badly; poverty reigned in the land, and Marguerite's parents were
nearly penniless. Marguerite, when merely a child, had been fond of me
because I trundled her about in a wheelbarrow, but on the morning when I
asked her in marriage she shrank from me with a frightened gesture, and
I realized that she thought me hideous. Her parents, however, consented
at once; they looked upon my offer as a godsend, and the daughter
submissively acquiesced. When she became accustomed to the idea of
marrying me she did not seem to dislike it so much. On our wedding day
at Guerande the rain fell in torrents, and when we got home my bride
had to take off her dress, which was soaked through, and sit in her
petticoats.
That was all the youth I ever had. We did not remain long in our
province. One day I found my wife in tears. She was miserable; life was
so dull; she wanted to get away. Six months later I had saved a little
money by taking in extra work after office hours, and through the
influence of a friend of my father's I obtained a petty appointment in
Paris. I started off to settle there with the dear little woman so
that she might cry no more. During the night, which we spent in the
third-class railway carriage, the seats being very hard, I took her in
my arms in order that she might sleep.
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