hope, with naught else beyond hard labor, brutal task-masters, and the whining homilies of drunken priests.
At a word from the officer the men filed slowly out, a dismal, dejected procession. Notwithstanding the uniform gray dress and closely-cropped heads, the difference in their physiognomy came prominently out. It was easily distinguishable that the husband belonged to a higher social circle than the others, who, from their ferocious, forbidding aspect, had evidently given the rein to their evil passions, and were undergoing their just punishment. Through the narrow door they passed in single file, the warders following immediately behind with their rifles upon their shoulders.
The officer paused at the door, and turning, lifted his cap politely to the bride, saying—
"Forgive me, madame, for thus taking your husband from you, but, alas! I have orders which must be obeyed."
"No apology is needed, m'sieur," she replied, with a slight sigh. "My husband's honeymoon has been brief indeed, but, as one convicted of a serious crime, what can he expect ? We must both wait. Nothing further need be said."
"And you have followed him here—from Paris?"
"Yes."
"Ah, what devotion! Madame, truly yours is a cruel separation, and you have my heartfelt sympathy. Adieu."
"Thanks, m'sieur; adieu," she said brokenly; but the officer had already passed out, and was beyond hearing.
Drawing herself up suddenly, and bowing stiffly to the priest, she left the chapel without deigning to thank him.
