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Matilda Betham-Edwards - East of Paris
satisfactory, but the nice-looking young bride, a general favourite, was quitting for ever her childhood's
home. After some little delay we all took our places in two banqueting rooms, the tables being arranged
horse-shoe wise. Facing bride and bridegroom sat my host, the second room being presided over by the
bride's father, of whom I shall have something to say later. Here I give the bill of fare, merely adding that
the festive board was neatly, even elegantly, spread, and that every dish was excellent: -
Hors d'oeuvre Salade de saison Radis, beurre frais, Langue fumee Fruits
Bouchees a la Reine Brioche. Nougat
Daim, sauce chassuer Desserts varies
Galantine truffee Vins
Salmis de canards Pineau, Bordeaux, Champagne
Choux-fleurs Cafe, Liqueurs.
Dinde truffee.
Looking down the lines of well-dressed people, all with the exception of ourselves belonging to the same
rank as the bride, I could but be struck with the good looks, gentle bearing, and general appearance of
everyone. As to the head forester, he was one of Nature's gentlemen, and might easily have passed for a
general or senator. At the table sat several young girls of the village, each having a cavalier, all these
dressed very neatly and comporting themselves like well-bred young ladies without presumption or
awkwardness. During the inevitable pauses between dish and dish, one after another of these pretty girls
stood up and gratified the company with a song, the performance costing perhaps an effort, but being got
through simply and naturally. In the midst of the banquet, which lasted over three hours, two
professionals came to sing and recite. From the breakfast table, after toasts, - the afternoon being now
well advanced - we again formed a procession to the Mairie, in front of which al fresco dancing
commenced. Add that this out-of-door ball lasted till a second dinner, the dinner being followed by a
second ball lasting far into the small hours. Nor did the celebration end here. The following day was
equally devoted to visits, feasts, toasts, and dancing. What a national heritage is this capacity for
fellowship, gaiety, and harmless mirth!
Bar-sur-Aube lies twelve miles off and a beautiful drive it is thither from Soulaines. We gradually leave
forest, pasture and arable land, finding ourselves amid vineyards. At the little village of Ville-sur-Terre,
we one day halted at a farm-house for a chat, the housewife most kindly presenting me with two highly
decorative plates.
As we approach Bar-sur-Aube we come upon a wide and beautiful prospect, wooded hills dominating the
plain.
This little town is very prettily situated, and like every other in France possesses some old churches.
Perhaps its most famous child is Bombonnel, the great panther-slayer, born close by, who died at Dijon
and whose souvenirs bequeathed to me as a legacy I have given elsewhere. The son of a working glazier,
he made a little fortune as hawker of stockings in the streets of New Orleans, returned to France, cleared
the Algerian Tell of panthers, for a time enjoyed ease with dignity in Burgundy; on the outbreak of the
Franco-German War in 1870, as leader of a thousand francs-tireurs, gave the Germans more
trouble than any commander of an army corps, twice had a price of L1,000 set upon his head, was
glorified by Victor Hugo, received the decoration of the Legion of Honour, and as a reward for his
patriotic services several hundred acres of land in Algeria. A gigantic statue of Sant Hubert, the patron of
hunters, now commemorates the great little man, for he was short of statue, in the cemetery of Dijon.
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