of waters on the sandy beach, and styled by the grateful fishermen "sea fruits," served to furnish forth this marriage table.
"A pretty silence, truly!" said the old father of the bridegroom, as he carried to his lips a glass of wine of the hue of the topaz, and which had just been placed before Mercédès by Father Pamphile himself. "Now, would anybody think that this room contained thirty people who desire nothing better than to laugh?"
"Ah!" sighed Caderousse, "a man cannot always feel happy because he is about to be married."
"The truth is," replied Dantès, "that I am too happy for noisy mirth; if that is what you meant by your observation, my worthy friend, you are right; joy takes a strange effect at times: it oppresses like sorrow."
Dauglars looked toward Edmond, whose impressionable nature received and betrayed each fresh emotion.
"Why, what ails you!" said he. "Do you fear any approaching evil? I should say that you were the happiest man alive at this instant."
"And that is the very thing that alarms me," returned Dantès. "Man does not appear to me to be intended to enjoy felicity so unmixed; happiness is like the palaces of the enchanted isles, where dragons guard the doors. We must fight to win it. I do not know how I have deserved the honor of being the husband of Mercédès."
"Husband, husband," cried Caderousse, laughing, "not yet, captain. Just try to play the husband, and see how you are received."
The bride blushed. Fernand, restless and uneasy, started at every sound, occasionally wiping away the large drops of perspiration that gathered on his brow like the first rain-drops of a storm.
"Well, never mind that, neighbor Caderousse," said Dantès; "it is not worth while to contradict me for such a trifle as that. 'Tis true that Mercédès is not actually my wife; but," added he, drawing out his watch, "in an hour and a half from this she will be."
A general exclamation of surprise ran round the table, with the exception of the elder Dantès, whose laugh displayed the still perfect beauty of his large white teeth. Mercédès looked pleased without a blush, while Fernand grasped the handle of his knife with a convulsive clutch.
"In an hour?" inquired Danglars, turning pale. "How is that, my friend?"
"Why, thus it is," replied Dantès. "Thanks to the influence of M. Morrel, to whom, next to my father, I owe every blessing I enjoy, every difficulty has been removed. We have got the license, and at half-past two o'clock the Mayor of Marseilles will be waiting at the Hôtel de Ville. Now, as a quarter-past one has already struck, I do not consider
