The Wedding
Dawn with its passionless blank face, steals shivering to the church beneath which lies the dust of little Paul and his mother, and looks in at the windows. It is cold and dark. Night crouches yet, upon the pavement, and broods, sombre and heavy, in nooks and corners of the building. The steeple-clock, perched up above the houses, emerging from beneath another of the countless ripples in the tide of time that regularly roll and break on the eternal shore, is greyly visible, like a stone beacon, recording how the sea flows on; but within doors, dawn, at first, can only peep at night, and see that it is there.
Hovering feebly round the church, and looking in, dawn moans and weeps for its short reign, and its tears trickle on the window-glass, and the trees against the church-wall bow their heads, and wring their many hands in sympathy. Night, growing pale before it, gradually fades out of the church, but lingers in the vaults below, and sits upon the coffins. And now comes bright day, burnishing the steeple-clock, and reddening the spire, and drying up the tears of dawn, and stifling its complaining; and the dawn, following the night, and chasing it from its last refuge, shrinks into the vaults itself and hides, with a frightened face, among the dead, until night returns, refreshed, to drive it out.
And now, the mice, who have been busier with the prayer-books than their proper owners, and with the hassocks, more worn by their little teeth than by human knees, hide their bright eyes in their holes, and gather close together in affright at the resounding clashing of the church-door. For the beadle, that man of power, comes early this morning with the sexton; and Mrs Miff, the wheezy little pew-opener - a mighty dry old lady, sparely dressed, with not an inch of fulness anywhere about her - is also here, and has been waiting at the church-gate half-an-hour, as her place is, for the beadle.
A vinegary face has Mrs Miff, and a mortified bonnet, and eke a thirsty soul for sixpences and shillings. Beckoning to stray people to come into pews, has given Mrs Miff an air of mystery; and there is reservation in the eye of Mrs Miff, as always knowing of a softer seat, but having her suspicions of the fee. There is no such fact as Mr Miff, nor has there been, these twenty years, and Mrs Miff would rather not allude to him. He held some bad opinions, it would seem, about free seats; and though Mrs Miff hopes he may be gone upwards, she couldn't positively undertake to say so.
Busy is Mrs Miff this morning at the church-door, beating and dusting the altar-cloth, the carpet, and the cushions; and much has Mrs Miff to say, about the wedding they are going to have. Mrs Miff is told, that the new furniture and alterations in the house cost full five thousand pound if they cost a penny; and Mrs Miff has heard, upon the best authority, that the lady hasn't got a sixpence wherewithal to bless herself. Mrs Miff remembers, like wise, as if it had happened yesterday, the first wife's funeral, and then the christening, and then the other funeral; and Mrs Miff says, by-the-bye she'll soap-and-water that 'ere tablet presently, against the company arrive. Mr Sownds the Beadle, who is sitting in the sun upon the church steps all this time (and seldom does anything else, except, in cold weather, sitting by the fire), approves of Mrs Miff's discourse, and asks if Mrs Miff has heard it said, that the lady is uncommon handsome? The information Mrs Miff has received, being of this nature, Mr Sownds the Beadle, who, though orthodox and corpulent, is still an admirer of female beauty, observes, with unction, yes, he hears she is a spanker - an expression that seems somewhat forcible to Mrs Miff, or would, from any lips but those of Mr Sownds the Beadle.
In Mr Dombey's house, at this same time, there is great stir and bustle, more especially among the women: not one of whom has had a wink of sleep since four o'clock, and all of whom were fully dressed before six. Mr Towlinson is an object of greater consideration than usual to the housemaid, and the cook says at breakfast time that one wedding makes many, which the housemaid can't believe, and don't think true at all. Mr Towlinson reserves his sentiments on this question; being rendered something gloomy by the engagement of a foreigner with whiskers (Mr Towlinson is whiskerless himself), who has been hired to accompany the happy pair to Paris, and who is busy packing the new chariot. In respect of this personage, Mr Towlinson admits, presently, that he never knew of any good that ever come of foreigners; and being charged by the ladies with prejudice, says, look at Bonaparte who was at the head of 'em, and see what he was always up to! Which the housemaid says is very true.
The pastry-cook is hard at work in the funereal room in Brook Street, and the very tall young men are busy looking on. One of the very tall young men already smells of sherry, and his eyes have a tendency to become fixed in his head, and to stare at objects without seeing them. The very tall young man is conscious of this failing in himself; and informs his comrade that it's his 'exciseman.' The very tall young man would say excitement, but his speech is hazy.
The men who play the bells have got scent of the marriage; and the marrow-bones and cleavers too; and a brass band too. The first, are practising in a back settlement near Battlebridge; the second, put themselves in communication, through their chief, with Mr Towlinson, to whom they offer terms to be bought off; and the third, in the person of an artful trombone, lurks and dodges round the corner, waiting for some traitor tradesman to reveal the place and hour of breakfast, for a bribe. Expectation and excitement extend further yet, and take a wider range. From Balls Pond, Mr Perch brings Mrs Perch to spend the day with Mr Dombey's servants, and accompany them, surreptitiously, to see the wedding. In Mr Toots's lodgings, Mr Toots attires himself as if he were at least the Bridegroom; determined to behold the spectacle in splendour from a secret corner of the gallery, and thither to convey the Chicken: for it is Mr Toots's desperate intent to point out Florence to the Chicken, then and there, and openly to say, 'Now, Chicken, I will not deceive you any longer; the friend I have sometimes mentioned to you is myself; Miss Dombey is the object of my passion; what are your opinions, Chicken, in this state of things, and what, on the spot, do you advise? The so-much-to-be-astonished Chicken, in the meanwhile, dips his beak into a tankard of strong beer, in Mr Toots's kitchen, and pecks up two pounds of beefsteaks. In Princess's Place, Miss Tox is up and doing; for she too, though in sore distress, is resolved to put a shilling in the hands of Mrs Miff, and see the ceremony which has a cruel fascination for her, from some lonely corner. The quarters of the wooden Midshipman are all alive; for Captain Cuttle, in his ankle-jacks and with a huge shirt-collar, is seated at his breakfast, listening to Rob the Grinder as he reads the marriage service to him beforehand, under orders, to the end that the Captain may perfectly understand the solemnity he is about to witness: for which purpose, the Captain gravely lays injunctions on his chaplain, from time to time, to 'put about,' or to 'overhaul that 'ere article again,' or to stick to his own duty, and leave the Amens to him, the Captain; one of which he repeats, whenever a pause is made by Rob the Grinder, with sonorous satisfaction.
Besides all this, and much more, twenty nursery-maids in Mr Dombey's street alone, have promised twenty families of little women, whose instinctive interest in nuptials dates from their cradles, that they shall go and see the marriage. Truly, Mr Sownds the Beadle has good reason to feel himself in office, as he suns his portly figure on the church steps, waiting for the marriage hour. Truly, Mrs Miff has cause to pounce on an unlucky dwarf child, with a giant baby, who peeps in at the porch, and drive her forth with indignation!
Cousin Feenix has come over from abroad, expressly to attend the marriage. Cousin Feenix was a man about town, forty years ago; but he is still so juvenile in figure and in manner, and so well got up, that strangers are amazed when they discover latent wrinkles in his lordship's face, and crows' feet in his eyes: and first observe him, not exactly certain when he walks across a room, of going quite straight to where he wants to go. But Cousin Feenix, getting up at half-past seven o'clock or so, is quite another thing from Cousin Feenix got up; and very dim, indeed, he looks, while being shaved at Long's Hotel, in Bond Street.
Mr Dombey leaves his dressing-room, amidst a general whisking away of the women on the staircase, who disperse in all directions, with a great rustling of skirts, except Mrs Perch, who, being (but that she always is) in an interesting situation, is not nimble, and is obliged to face him, and is ready to sink with confusion as she curtesys; - may Heaven avert all evil consequences from the house of Perch! Mr Dombey walks up to the drawing-room, to bide his time. Gorgeous are Mr Dombey's new blue coat, fawn-coloured pantaloons, and lilac waistcoat; and a whisper goes about the house, that Mr Dombey's hair is curled.
A double knock announces the arrival of the Major, who is gorgeous too, and wears a whole geranium in his button-hole, and has his hair curled tight and crisp, as well the Native knows.
'Dombey!' says the Major, putting out both hands, 'how are you?'
'Major,' says Mr Dombey, 'how are You?'
'By Jove, Sir,' says the Major, 'Joey B. is in such case this morning, Sir,' - and here he hits himself hard upon the breast - 'In such case this morning, Sir, that, damme, Dombey, he has half a mind to make a double marriage of it, Sir, and take the mother.'
Mr Dombey smiles; but faintly, even for him; for Mr Dombey feels that he is going to be related to the mother, and that, under those circumstances, she is not to be joked about.
'Dombey,' says the Major, seeing this, 'I give you joy. I congratulate you, Dombey. By the Lord, Sir,' says the Major, 'you are more to be envied, this day, than any man in England!'
Here again Mr Dombey's assent is qualified; because he is going to confer a great distinction on a lady; and, no doubt, she is to be envied most.
'As to Edith Granger, Sir,' pursues the Major, 'there is not a woman in all Europe but might - and would, Sir, you will allow Bagstock to add - and would- give her ears, and her earrings, too, to be in Edith Granger's place.'
'You are good enough to say so, Major,' says Mr Dombey.
'Dombey,' returns the Major, 'you know it. Let us have no false delicacy. You know it. Do you know it, or do you not, Dombey?' says the Major, almost in a passion.
'Oh, really, Major - '
'Damme, Sir,' retorts the Major, 'do you know that fact, or do you not? Dombey! Is old Joe your friend? Are we on that footing of unreserved intimacy, Dombey, that may justify a man - a blunt old Joseph B., Sir - in speaking out; or am I to take open order, Dombey, and to keep my distance, and to stand on forms?'
'My dear Major Bagstock,' says Mr Dombey, with a gratified air, 'you are quite warm.'
'By Gad, Sir,' says the Major, 'I am warm. Joseph B. does not deny it, Dombey. He is warm. This is an occasion, Sir, that calls forth all the honest sympathies remaining in an old, infernal, battered, used-up, invalided, J. B. carcase. And I tell you what, Dombey - at such a time a man must blurt out what he feels, or put a muzzle on; and Joseph Bagstock tells you to your face, Dombey, as he tells his club behind your back, that he never will be muzzled when Paul Dombey is in question. Now, damme, Sir,' concludes the Major, with great firmness, 'what do you make of that?'
'Major,' says Mr Dombey, 'I assure you that I am really obliged to you. I had no idea of checking your too partial friendship.'
'Not too partial, Sir!' exclaims the choleric Major. 'Dombey, I deny it.'
'Your friendship I will say then,' pursues Mr Dombey, 'on any account. Nor can I forget, Major, on such an occasion as the present, how much I am indebted to it.'
'Dombey,' says the Major, with appropriate action, 'that is the hand of Joseph Bagstock: of plain old Joey B., Sir, if you like that better! That is the hand, of which His Royal Highness the late Duke of York, did me the honour to observe, Sir, to His Royal Highness the late Duke of Kent, that it was the hand of Josh: a rough and tough, and possibly an up-to-snuff, old vagabond. Dombey, may the present moment be the least unhappy of our lives. God bless you!'
Now enters Mr Carker, gorgeous likewise, and smiling like a wedding-guest indeed. He can scarcely let Mr Dombey's hand go, he is so congratulatory; and he shakes the Major's hand so heartily at the same time, that his voice shakes too, in accord with his arms, as it comes sliding from between his teeth.
'The very day is auspicious,' says Mr Carker. 'The brightest and most genial weather! I hope I am not a moment late?'
'Punctual to your time, Sir,' says the Major.
'I am rejoiced, I am sure,' says Mr Carker. 'I was afraid I might be a few seconds after the appointed time, for I was delayed by a procession of waggons; and I took the liberty of riding round to Brook Street' - this to Mr Dombey - 'to leave a few poor rarities of flowers for Mrs Dombey. A man in my position, and so distinguished as to be invited here, is proud to offer some homage in acknowledgment of his vassalage: and as I have no doubt Mrs Dombey is overwhelmed with what is costly and magnificent;' with a strange glance at his patron; 'I hope the very poverty of my offering, may find favour for it.'
'Mrs Dombey, that is to be,' returns Mr Dombey, condescendingly, 'will be very sensible of your attention, Carker, I am sure.'
'And if she is to be Mrs Dombey this morning, Sir,' says the Major, putting down his coffee-cup, and looking at his watch, 'it's high time we were off!'
Forth, in a barouche, ride Mr Dombey, Major Bagstock, and Mr Carker, to the church. Mr Sownds the Beadle has long risen from the steps, and is in waiting with his cocked hat in his hand. Mrs Miff curtseys and proposes chairs in the vestry. Mr Dombey prefers remaining in the church. As he looks up at the organ, Miss Tox in the gallery shrinks behind the fat leg of a cherubim on a monument, with cheeks like a young Wind. Captain Cuttle, on the contrary, stands up and waves his hook, in token of welcome and encouragement. Mr Toots informs the Chicken, behind his hand, that the middle gentleman, he in the fawn-coloured pantaloons, is the father of his love. The Chicken hoarsely whispers Mr Toots that he's as stiff a cove as ever he see, but that it is within the resources of Science to double him up, with one blow in the waistcoat.
Mr Sownds and Mrs Miff are eyeing Mr Dombey from a little distance, when the noise of approaching wheels is heard, and Mr Sownds goes out. Mrs Miff, meeting Mr Dombey's eye as it is withdrawn from the presumptuous maniac upstairs, who salutes him with so much urbanity, drops a curtsey, and informs him that she believes his 'good lady' is come. Then there is a crowding and a whispering at the door, and the good lady enters, with a haughty step.
There is no sign upon her face, of last night's suffering; there is no trace in her manner, of the woman on the bended knees, reposing her wild head, in beautiful abandonment, upon the pillow of the sleeping girl. That girl, all gentle and lovely, is at her side - a striking contrast to her own disdainful and defiant figure, standing there, composed, erect, inscrutable of will, resplendent and majestic in the zenith of its charms, yet beating down, and treading on, the admiration that it challenges.
There is a pause while Mr Sownds the Beadle glides into the vestry for the clergyman and clerk. At this juncture, Mrs Skewton speaks to Mr Dombey: more distinctly and emphatically than her custom is, and moving at the same time, close to Edith.
'My dear Dombey,' said the good Mama, 'I fear I must relinquish darling Florence after all, and suffer her to go home, as she herself proposed. After my loss of to-day, my dear Dombey, I feel I shall not have spirits, even for her society.'
'Had she not better stay with you?' returns the Bridegroom.
'I think not, my dear Dombey. No, I think not. I shall be better alone. Besides, my dearest Edith will be her natural and constant guardian when you return, and I had better not encroach upon her trust, perhaps. She might be jealous. Eh, dear Edith?'
The affectionate Mama presses her daughter's arm, as she says this; perhaps entreating her attention earnestly.
'To be serious, my dear Dombey,' she resumes, 'I will relinquish our dear child, and not inflict my gloom upon her. We have settled that, just now. She fully understands, dear Dombey. Edith, my dear, - she fully understands.'
Again, the good mother presses her daughter's arm. Mr Dombey offers no additional remonstrance; for the clergyman and clerk appear; and Mrs Miff, and Mr Sownds the Beadle, group the party in their proper places at the altar rails.
The sun is shining down, upon the golden letters of the ten commandments. Why does the Bride's eye read them, one by one? Which one of all the ten appears the plainest to her in the glare of light? False Gods; murder; theft; the honour that she owes her mother; - which is it that appears to leave the wall, and printing itself in glowing letters, on her book!
"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"'
Cousin Feenix does that. He has come from Baden-Baden on purpose. 'Confound it,' Cousin Feenix says - good-natured creature, Cousin Feenix - 'when we do get a rich City fellow into the family, let us show him some attention; let us do something for him.' I give this woman to be married to this man,' saith Cousin Feenix therefore. Cousin Feenix, meaning to go in a straight line, but turning off sideways by reason of his wilful legs, gives the wrong woman to be married to this man, at first - to wit, a brides- maid of some condition, distantly connected with the family, and ten years Mrs Skewton's junior - but Mrs Miff, interposing her mortified bonnet, dexterously turns him back, and runs him, as on castors, full at the 'good lady:' whom Cousin Feenix giveth to married to this man accordingly. And will they in the sight of heaven - ? Ay, that they will: Mr Dombey says he will. And what says Edith? She will. So, from that day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do them part, they plight their troth to one another, and are married. In a firm, free hand, the Bride subscribes her name in the register, when they adjourn to the vestry. 'There ain't a many ladies come here,' Mrs Miff says with a curtsey - to look at Mrs Miff, at such a season, is to make her mortified bonnet go down with a dip - writes their names like this good lady!' Mr Sownds the Beadle thinks it is a truly spanking signature, and worthy of the writer - this, however, between himself and conscience. Florence signs too, but unapplauded, for her hand shakes. All the party sign; Cousin Feenix last; who puts his noble name into a wrong place, and enrols himself as having been born that morning. The Major now salutes the Bride right gallantly, and carries out that branch of military tactics in reference to all the ladies: notwithstanding Mrs Skewton's being extremely hard to kiss, and squeaking shrilly in the sacred edIfice. The example is followed by Cousin. Feenix and even by Mr Dombey. Lastly, Mr Carker, with hIs white teeth glistening, approaches Edith, more as if he meant to bite her, than to taste the sweets that linger on her lips.
There is a glow upon her proud cheek, and a flashing in her eyes, that may be meant to stay him; but it does not, for he salutes her as the rest have done, and wishes her all happiness.
'If wishes,' says he in a low voice, 'are not superfluous, applied to such a union.'
'I thank you, Sir,' she answers, with a curled lip, and a heaving bosom.
But, does Edith feel still, as on the night when she knew that Mr Dombey would return to offer his alliance, that Carker knows her thoroughly, and reads her right, and that she is more degraded by his knowledge of her, than by aught else? Is it for this reason that her haughtiness shrinks beneath his smile, like snow within the hands that grasps it firmly, and that her imperious glance droops In meeting his, and seeks the ground?
'I am proud to see,' said Mr Carker, with a servile stooping of his neck, which the revelations making by his eyes and teeth proclaim to be a lie, 'I am proud to see that my humble offering is graced by Mrs Dombey's hand, and permitted to hold so favoured a place in so joyful an occasion.'
Though she bends her head, in answer, there is something in the momentary action of her hand, as if she would crush the flowers it holds, and fling them, with contempt, upon the ground. But, she puts the hand through the arm of her new husband, who has been standing near, conversing with the Major, and is proud again, and motionless, and silent.
The carriages are once more at the church door. Mr Dombey, with his bride upon his arm, conducts her through the twenty families of little women who are on the steps, and every one of whom remembers the fashion and the colour of her every article of dress from that moment, and reproduces it on her doll, who is for ever being married. Cleopatra and Cousin Feenix enter the same carriage. The Major hands into a second carriage, Florence, and the bridesmaid who so narrowly escaped being given away by mistake, and then enters it himself, and is followed by Mr Carker. Horses prance and caper; coachmen and footmen shine in fluttering favours, flowers, and new-made liveries. Away they dash and rattle through the streets; and as they pass along, a thousand heads are turned to look at them, and a thousand sober moralists revenge themselves for not being married too, that morning, by reflecting that these people little think such happiness can't last.
Miss Tox emerges from behind the cherubim's leg, when all is quiet, and comes slowly down from the gallery. Miss Tox's eyes are red, and her pocket-handkerchief is damp. She is wounded, but not exasperated, and she hopes they may be happy. She quite admits to herself the beauty of the bride, and her own comparatively feeble and faded attractions; but the stately image of Mr Dombey in his lilac waistcoat, and his fawn-coloured pantaloons, is present to her mind, and Miss Tox weeps afresh, behind her veil, on her way home to Princess's Place. Captain Cuttle, having joined in all the amens and responses, with a devout growl, feels much improved by his religious exercises; and in a peaceful frame of mind pervades the body of the church, glazed hat in hand, and reads the tablet to the memory of little Paul. The gallant Mr Toots, attended by the faithful Chicken, leaves the building in torments of love. The Chicken is as yet unable to elaborate a scheme for winning Florence, but his first idea has gained possession of him, and he thinks the doubling up of Mr Dombey would be a move in the right direction. Mr Dombey's servants come out of their hiding-places, and prepare to rush to Brook Street, when they are delayed by symptoms of indisposition on the part of Mrs Perch, who entreats a glass of water, and becomes alarming; Mrs Perch gets better soon, however, and is borne away; and Mrs Miff, and Mr Sownds the Beadle, sit upon the steps to count what they have gained by the affair, and talk it over, while the sexton tolls a funeral.
Now, the carriages arrive at the Bride's residence, and the players on the bells begin to jingle, and the band strikes up, and Mr Punch, that model of connubial bliss, salutes his wife. Now, the people run, and push, and press round in a gaping throng, while Mr Dombey, leading Mrs Dombey by the hand, advances solemnly into the Feenix Halls. Now, the rest of the wedding party alight, and enter after them. And why does Mr Carker, passing through the people to the hall-door, think of the old woman who called to him in the Grove that morning? Or why does Florence, as she passes, think, with a tremble, of her childhood, when she was lost, and of the visage of Good Mrs Brown?
Now, there are more congratulations on this happiest of days, and more company, though not much; and now they leave the drawing-room, and range themselves at table in the dark-brown dining-room, which no confectioner can brighten up, let him garnish the exhausted negroes with as many flowers and love-knots as he will.
The pastry-cook has done his duty like a man, though, and a rich breakfast is set forth. Mr and Mrs Chick have joined the party, among others. Mrs Chick admires that Edith should be, by nature, such a perfect Dombey; and is affable and confidential to Mrs Skewton, whose mind is relieved of a great load, and who takes her share of the champagne. The very tall young man who suffered from excitement early, is better; but a vague sentiment of repentance has seized upon him, and he hates the other very tall young man, and wrests dishes from him by violence, and takes a grim delight in disobliging the company. The company are cool and calm, and do not outrage the black hatchments of pictures looking down upon them, by any excess of mirth. Cousin Feenix and the Major are the gayest there; but Mr Carker has a smile for the whole table. He has an especial smile for the Bride, who very, very seldom meets it.
Cousin Feenix rises, when the company have breakfasted, and the servants have left the room; and wonderfully young he looks, with his white wristbands almost covering his hands (otherwise rather bony), and the bloom of the champagne in his cheeks.
'Upon my honour,' says Cousin Feenix, 'although it's an unusual sort of thing in a private gentleman's house, I must beg leave to call upon you to drink what is usually called a - in fact a toast.
The Major very hoarsely indicates his approval. Mr Carker, bending his head forward over the table in the direction of Cousin Feenix, smiles and nods a great many times.
'A - in fact it's not a - ' Cousin Feenix beginning again, thus, comes to a dead stop.
'Hear, hear!' says the Major, in a tone of conviction.
Mr Carker softly claps his hands, and bending forward over the table again, smiles and nods a great many more times than before, as if he were particularly struck by this last observation, and desired personally to express his sense of the good it has done
'It is,' says Cousin Feenix, 'an occasion in fact, when the general usages of life may be a little departed from, without impropriety; and although I never was an orator in my life, and when I was in the House of Commons, and had the honour of seconding the address, was - in fact, was laid up for a fortnight with the consciousness of failure - '
The Major and Mr Carker are so much delighted by this fragment of personal history, that Cousin Feenix laughs, and addressing them individually, goes on to say:
'And in point of fact, when I was devilish ill - still, you know, I feel that a duty devolves upon me. And when a duty devolves upon an Englishman, he is bound to get out of it, in my opinion, in the best way he can. Well! our family has had the gratification, to-day, of connecting itself, in the person of my lovely and accomplished relative, whom I now see - in point of fact, present - '
Here there is general applause.
'Present,' repeats Cousin Feenix, feeling that it is a neat point which will bear repetition, - 'with one who - that is to say, with a man, at whom the finger of scorn can never - in fact, with my honourable friend Dombey, if he will allow me to call him so.'
Cousin Feenix bows to Mr Dombey; Mr Dombey solemnly returns the bow; everybody is more or less gratified and affected by this extraordinary, and perhaps unprecedented, appeal to the feelings.
'I have not,' says Cousin Feenix, 'enjoyed those opportunities which I could have desired, of cultivating the acquaintance of my friend Dombey, and studying those qualities which do equal honour to his head, and, in point of fact, to his heart; for it has been my misfortune to be, as we used to say in my time in the House of Commons, when it was not the custom to allude to the Lords, and when the order of parliamentary proceedings was perhaps better observed than it is now - to be in - in point of fact,' says Cousin Feenix, cherishing his joke, with great slyness, and finally bringing it out with a jerk, "'in another place!"'
The Major falls into convulsions, and is recovered with difficulty.
'But I know sufficient of my friend Dombey,' resumes Cousin Feenix in a graver tone, as if he had suddenly become a sadder and wiser man' 'to know that he is, in point of fact, what may be emphatically called a - a merchant - a British merchant - and a - and a man. And although I have been resident abroad, for some years (it would give me great pleasure to receive my friend Dombey, and everybody here, at Baden-Baden, and to have an opportunity of making 'em known to the Grand Duke), still I know enough, I flatter myself, of my lovely and accomplished relative, to know that she possesses every requisite to make a man happy, and that her marriage with my friend Dombey is one of inclination and affection on both sides.'
Many smiles and nods from Mr Carker.
'Therefore,' says Cousin Feenix, 'I congratulate the family of which I am a member, on the acquisition of my friend Dombey. I congratulate my friend Dombey on his union with my lovely and accomplished relative who possesses every requisite to make a man happy; and I take the liberty of calling on you all, in point of fact, to congratulate both my friend Dombey and my lovely and accomplished relative, on the present occasion.'
The speech of Cousin Feenix is received with great applause, and Mr Dombey returns thanks on behalf of himself and Mrs Dombey. J. B. shortly afterwards proposes Mrs Skewton. The breakfast languishes when that is done, the violated hatchments are avenged, and Edith rises to assume her travelling dress.
All the servants in the meantime, have been breakfasting below. Champagne has grown too common among them to be mentioned, and roast fowls, raised pies, and lobster-salad, have become mere drugs. The very tall young man has recovered his spirits, and again alludes to the exciseman. His comrade's eye begins to emulate his own, and he, too, stares at objects without taking cognizance thereof. There is a general redness in the faces of the ladies; in the face of Mrs Perch particularly, who is joyous and beaming, and lifted so far above the cares of life, that if she were asked just now to direct a wayfarer to Ball's Pond, where her own cares lodge, she would have some difficulty in recalling the way. Mr Towlinson has proposed the happy pair; to which the silver-headed butler has responded neatly, and with emotion; for he half begins to think he is an old retainer of the family, and that he is bound to be affected by these changes. The whole party, and especially the ladies, are very frolicsome. Mr Dombey's cook, who generally takes the lead in society, has said, it is impossible to settle down after this, and why not go, in a party, to the play? Everybody (Mrs Perch included) has agreed to this; even the Native, who is tigerish in his drink, and who alarms the ladies (Mrs Perch particularly) by the rolling of his eyes. One of the very tall young men has even proposed a ball after the play, and it presents itself to no one (Mrs Perch included) in the light of an impossibility. Words have arisen between the housemaid and Mr Towlinson; she, on the authority of an old saw, asserting marriages to be made in Heaven: he, affecting to trace the manufacture elsewhere; he, supposing that she says so, because she thinks of being married her own self: she, saying, Lord forbid, at any rate, that she should ever marry him. To calm these flying taunts, the silver-headed butler rises to propose the health of Mr Towlinson, whom to know is to esteem, and to esteem is to wish well settled in life with the object of his choice, wherever (here the silver-headed butler eyes the housemaid) she may be. Mr Towlinson returns thanks in a speech replete with feeling, of which the peroration turns on foreigners, regarding whom he says they may find favour, sometimes, with weak and inconstant intellects that can be led away by hair, but all he hopes, is, he may never hear of no foreigner never boning nothing out of no travelling chariot. The eye of Mr Towlinson is so severe and so expressive here, that the housemaid is turning hysterical, when she and all the rest, roused by the intelligence that the Bride is going away, hurry upstairs to witness her departure.
The chariot is at the door; the Bride is descending to the hall, where Mr Dombey waits for her. Florence is ready on the staircase to depart too; and Miss Nipper, who has held a middle state between the parlour and the kitchen, is prepared to accompany her. As Edith appears, Florence hastens towards her, to bid her farewell.
Is Edith cold, that she should tremble! Is there anything unnatural or unwholesome in the touch of Florence, that the beautiful form recedes and contracts, as if it could not bear it! Is there so much hurry in this going away, that Edith, with a wave of her hand, sweeps on, and is gone!
Mrs Skewton, overpowered by her feelings as a mother, sinks on her sofa in the Cleopatra attitude, when the clatter of the chariot wheels is lost, and sheds several tears. The Major, coming with the rest of the company from table, endeavours to comfort her; but she will not be comforted on any terms, and so the Major takes his leave. Cousin Feenix takes his leave, and Mr Carker takes his leave. The guests all go away. Cleopatra, left alone, feels a little giddy from her strong emotion, and falls asleep.
Giddiness prevails below stairs too. The very tall young man whose excitement came on so soon, appears to have his head glued to the table in the pantry, and cannot be detached from - it. A violent revulsion has taken place in the spirits of Mrs Perch, who is low on account of Mr Perch, and tells cook that she fears he is not so much attached to his home, as he used to be, when they were only nine in family. Mr Towlinson has a singing in his ears and a large wheel going round and round inside his head. The housemaid wishes it wasn't wicked to wish that one was dead.
There is a general delusion likewise, in these lower regions, on the subject of time; everybody conceiving that it ought to be, at the earliest, ten o'clock at night, whereas it is not yet three in the afternoon. A shadowy idea of wickedness committed, haunts every individual in the party; and each one secretly thinks the other a companion in guilt, whom it would be agreeable to avoid. No man or woman has the hardihood to hint at the projected visit to the play. Anyone reviving the notion of the ball, would be scouted as a malignant idiot.
Mrs Skewton sleeps upstairs, two hours afterwards, and naps are not yet over in the kitchen. The hatchments in the dining-room look down on crumbs, dirty plates, spillings of wine, half-thawed ice, stale discoloured heel-taps, scraps of lobster, drumsticks of fowls, and pensive jellies, gradually resolving themselves into a lukewarm gummy soup. The marriage is, by this time, almost as denuded of its show and garnish as the breakfast. Mr Dombey's servants moralise so much about it, and are so repentant over their early tea, at home, that by eight o'clock or so, they settle down into confirmed seriousness; and Mr Perch, arriving at that time from the City, fresh and jocular, with a white waistcoat and a comic song, ready to spend the evening, and prepared for any amount of dissipation, is amazed to find himself coldly received, and Mrs Perch but poorly, and to have the pleasing duty of escorting that lady home by the next omnibus.
Night closes in. Florence, having rambled through the handsome house, from room to room, seeks her own chamber, where the care of Edith has surrounded her with luxuries and comforts; and divesting herself of her handsome dress, puts on her old simple mourning for dear Paul, and sits down to read, with Diogenes winking and blinking on the ground beside her. But Florence cannot read tonight. The house seems strange and new, and there are loud echoes in it. There is a shadow on her heart: she knows not why or what: but it is heavy. Florence shuts her book, and gruff Diogenes, who takes that for a signal, puts his paws upon her lap, and rubs his ears against her caressing hands. But Florence cannot see him plainly, in a little time, for there is a mist between her eyes and him, and her dead brother and dead mother shine in it like angels. Walter, too, poor wandering shipwrecked boy, oh, where is he?
The Major don't know; that's for certain; and don't care. The Major, having choked and slumbered, all the afternoon, has taken a late dinner at his club, and now sits over his pint of wine, driving a modest young man, with a fresh-coloured face, at the next table (who would give a handsome sum to be able to rise and go away, but cannot do it) to the verge of madness, by anecdotes of Bagstock, Sir, at Dombey's wedding, and Old Joe's devilish gentle manly friend, Lord Feenix. While Cousin Feenix, who ought to be at Long's, and in bed, finds himself, instead, at a gaming-table, where his wilful legs have taken him, perhaps, in his own despite.
Night, like a giant, fills the church, from pavement to roof, and holds dominion through the silent hours. Pale dawn again comes peeping through the windows: and, giving place to day, sees night withdraw into the vaults, and follows it, and drives it out, and hides among the dead. The timid mice again cower close together, when the great door clashes, and Mr Sownds and Mrs Miff treading the circle of their daily lives, unbroken as a marriage ring, come in. Again, the cocked hat and the mortified bonnet stand in the background at the marriage hour; and again this man taketh this woman, and this woman taketh this man, on the solemn terms:
'To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do them part.'
The very words that Mr Carker rides into town repeating, with his mouth stretched to the utmost, as he picks his dainty way.
黎明露出没有热情、茫然发呆的脸孔，哆哆嗦嗦地，悄悄地来到教堂；从窗口往里面张望，小保罗和他母亲的骨灰就躺在这个教堂的下面。这时是寒冷与黑暗的。夜还依旧蹲伏在铺石路上，阴郁与深沉地暗藏在这座建筑物的各个角落和隐僻的地方。时间的潮流不规律地冲刷和拍打着永恒之岸；巍然高耸在房屋上空的教堂尖塔上的钟，从这无数波浪的又一个波浪中浮现出来，露出它灰暗的形象；它像一个石头的灯塔，记录着海水怎样流动；可是在教堂里面，黎明最初只能窥探一下而已，它看见夜依旧在那里。
黎明在教堂周围软弱无力地徘徊着，向窗子里张望着，为它短促的统治呻吟和哀哭着，它的眼泪在窗玻璃上流淌；教堂围墙近旁的树木低垂着头，它们的许多手紧紧地相互绞扭着，表示同情。夜在黎明面前脸色苍白，渐渐地离开了教堂，但却依依不舍地留在安放骨灰的地下灵堂中，并坐在棺材上面。现在，明亮的白天来到了，它把教堂尖塔上的钟擦亮，给塔尖染红，并抹干黎明的眼泪，压住它的怨言。心惊胆战的黎明跟随在夜的后面，把它从它最后的藏身场所赶跑，它自己则退缩到地下灵堂当中，躲藏在死人中间，直到夜恢复精神，重新回来时把它撵走为止。
耗子们本来正在对祈祷书下着功夫，它们那孜孜不倦的精神超过了书的合法主人；它们细小的牙齿对跪垫所造成的磨损也大大超出了人们膝盖所能达到的程度；这时它们听到教堂大门打开时发出的铿锵响声的回荡，就都把亮晶晶的眼睛隐藏在洞里，恐惧不安地聚集在一起。因为这天早上，教区事务员这位掌握权力的人物和教堂司事一起很早就来了。米福太太这位矮小的教堂领座人也在这里，她呼哧呼哧地一直喘着气；她是一位非常枯瘦的老太太，穿着可怜，全身上下找不到一英寸丰满的地方；她在教堂门口等候教区事务员已等了半个钟头；就她的职位来说，是应当这样做的。
米福太太有一副愁眉苦脸，一顶干瘪的女帽，另外还有一颗渴望得到六便士硬币和一先令硬币的心。她喜爱招呼偶尔从这里走过的人们到教堂里去入座听讲，这赋予她一种神秘的神态；在她的眼光中流露出不露真情的神色，好像她知道哪个座位更柔软舒适，但她怀疑指点出来是否能得到小费。没有米福先生这样的人，这二十年来从来没有过他，米福太太也宁肯不提到他。他似乎对免费入座很不以为然；虽然米福太太希望他升入天堂，然而她却不能肯定地答应说这样的话。
这天早上米福太太在教堂门口十分忙碌，她敲打着圣坛罩、地毯和垫子，拂去它们的灰尘；米福太太对即将举行的婚礼也有许多话要讲。米福太太听别人说，那座公馆购置新家具和修缮装饰的费用无论如何也不少于五千英镑；米福太太还从可靠人士那里打听到，这位夫人连六个便士也没有花。米福太太还清清楚楚地记得第一个妻子的葬礼，然后是洗礼，然后是另一次葬礼，仿佛这些事情是昨天发生的一样；米福太太说，她得在客人们来到之前，立即用肥皂水顺便把这些墓碑擦洗干净。教区事务员桑兹先生一直坐在教堂台阶上晒太阳（除了天气寒冷的时候坐在炉旁取暖外，他很少做别的事）；他称赞米福太太的谈话，并问米福太太有没有听说，这位夫人长得非常非常漂亮？教区事务员桑兹先生虽然信奉正教教义，本人长得肥头胖耳，但他却仍然是一位女性美色的爱慕者；由于米福太太也听到这个消息，他就津津有味地说，是的，他听说她是个顶呱呱的女人，——这个说法如果不是从教区事务员桑兹先生的嘴中，而是从别人的嘴中说出的话，那么对米福太太来说，它似乎有几分不堪入耳。
董贝先生家里这时候忙乱得不可开交，特别是妇女们，从四点钟起，她们没有一个人合眼睡过一下子；六点钟以前，她们全都穿着得漂漂亮亮。托林森先生比平时更受女仆的青睐；吃早饭的时候，厨娘说，在一次婚礼之后就会接着举行很多个婚礼；女仆不相信这个说法，认为这根本不正确；托林森先生在这个问题上没有发表意见，因为一位留连鬓胡子的外国人（托林森先生本人没有连鬓胡子）被雇来陪伴幸福的新婚夫妇去巴黎，他的来到使托林森先生感到有些闷闷不乐。这位外国人正忙着给崭新的四轮轻便马车装上东西。对于这个人，托林森先生立即发表他的看法，他说，他从来没有见到从外国人身上能得到什么好处；由于受到有偏见的妇女们的责备，他就说，“你们看波拿巴①吧，他就是他们的统帅，你们看他经常搞些什么名堂！”女仆认为他这话说得千真万确。
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①波拿巴：指拿破仑·波拿巴（NapoleonBonaparte，1769—1821年）：法国皇帝。
糕饼师傅在布鲁克街那间具有丧葬气氛的房间中辛勤工作着。两位身材很高的年轻人在专心致志地看着；其中的一位早已闻到了雪利酒的香味，他的眼睛有一种固定不动的倾向，在凝视着东西时却看不见它们；这位身材很高的年轻人承认他有这个弱点，并告诉他的同伴说，这是由于“心放”引起的；这位身材很高的年轻人本来是想说“兴奋”，可是他说得模糊不清。
打铃的人已打听到结婚的风声；卖肉的人和铜管乐器的吹奏乐队也一样。打铃的人正在巴特尔桥附近偏僻的地方练习；卖肉的人通过他们的头头和托林森先生建立了联系，跟他商议价钱，建议他向他们买肉；吹奏乐队由一个机灵的吹长号的人躲藏在角落里，暗中侦察，等待着向泄露秘密的商人行贿，从他们那里打听早餐的地点和时间。盼望和兴奋的情绪进一步扩展开来，波及到更广阔的范围。珀奇先生把珀奇太太从鲍尔斯池溏领来，准备和董贝先生的仆人们一起度过这一天，并和他们一道偷偷地观看婚礼。在图茨先生的住所，图茨先生把自己打扮得仿佛他至少是个新郎似的；他打定主意从教堂楼座的一个秘密角落里观看这个富丽豪华的场面，并把斗鸡带到那里去；因为图茨先生非常想把弗洛伦斯指点给斗鸡看，并坦率地对他说，“现在，斗鸡，我不打算再欺瞒你了；我好几次向你提到的朋友就是我自己；董贝小姐就是我的意中人；情况就是这样，斗鸡，你的看法怎么样？你现在有什么建议要立刻提出的吗？”这时候，这位将要大吃一惊的斗鸡正在图茨先生的厨房里把他的喙浸到一大杯烈性啤酒中，啄出两磅牛排。在公主广场，托克斯小姐已经起床，正在忙碌着；因为她虽然深深地感到痛苦，但也决定塞一个先令到米福太太手里，从一个离开众人的角落里看看这个对她具有残酷魔力的典礼。木制海军军官候补生的住所里是一片活跃的气氛。卡特尔船长穿着节日的短靴和大领子的衬衣，坐着吃早饭，一边听着磨工罗布按照他的嘱咐，事先向他念婚礼仪式，以便船长能完全理解他准备前去亲自观看的庄严场面；为了这个目的，船长不时指示他的牧师“转回去”或“这一节重来一遍”或把他自己分内的事情做好，阿门①留给他船长来喊。每当磨工罗布停歇的时候，他就响亮和满意地喊一声阿门。
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①阿门：基督教祈祷结尾语，意为：但愿如此。
除此之外，单就董贝先生的这条街来说，就有二十个年轻保姆答应二十个家庭的女孩子们，带领她们去看婚礼；这些女孩子们从睡在摇篮里的时候起，对结婚就本能地产生兴趣了。教区事务员桑兹先生在教堂台阶上让太阳晒着他肥胖的身躯，一边等待着结婚的时刻来到，说实在的，这时候他很有理由觉得他是在履行职务。有一个倒霉的矮女孩子抱了一个巨大的娃娃在教堂门廊里窥探的时候，米福太太向她扑过去，怒气冲冲地把她撵跑；说实在的，她这样做并不是没有道理的。
菲尼克斯表哥从国外特地回来参加这次婚礼。四十年以前，菲尼克斯表哥是在伦敦的俱乐部、剧场等处闲混日子的人，可是从身姿和态度来看，他现在仍显得十分年轻，装饰得又很雅致，所以一些跟他陌生的人在他阁下的脸上发现隐伏的皱纹和眼外角的鱼尾皱时都感到惊奇。当他走过房间的时候，人们初初一看，都不十分肯定他是不是很笔直地走向他想要去的地方。但是菲尼克斯表哥早上七点半左右起床的时候，跟打扮得漂漂亮亮的菲尼克斯表哥是完全不同的人；当他在拜德街朗旅馆中被修脸的时候，他的容貌看上去确实黯然失色，平庸无奇。
董贝先生从化妆室中走出来的时候，楼梯上的妇女们急忙逃避，从各个方向散开，裙子发出一阵沙沙的响声，只有珀奇太太一人除外。珀奇太太身上已经有喜（不过她经常是有喜的），手脚又不灵活，所以不得不面对着他；她行屈膝礼的时候，手忙脚乱，不知所措，真准备钻到地底下去。——愿老天爷给珀奇家里消灾除祸吧！董贝先生到客厅里，等待时间到来；董贝先生的新的蓝色的外套、淡黄色的裤子、淡紫色的背心全都是豪华的，屋子里的人们还交头接耳地说，董贝先生的头发已做成卷曲的了。
门敲了两下，通报少校来到。他的衣着也是豪华的，钮扣洞里还佩戴了一整株天竺葵，头发又紧又起微波地卷曲着，本地人很懂得这样做。
“董贝，”少校伸出双手，说道，“您好！”
“少校，”董贝先生说道，“您好！”
“真的，先生，”少校说道，“乔埃·白今天早上有这样心情，”这时他用力地敲打着胸脯，“今天早上他有这样的心情，先生，他妈的，董贝，他真有点想来个双婚，把那母亲娶过来。”
董贝先生微笑了一下，但即使对他来说，这微笑也是微弱的；因为董贝先生觉得他将跟那母亲结为亲戚，在这种情况下不应当拿她来开玩笑。
“董贝，”少校注意到这一点，说道，“我祝您幸福。我祝贺您，董贝。说实话，先生，今天您是全英国最使人妒嫉的人了。”
董贝先生又有限制地表示同意；因为他将把极大的荣誉授予一位女士；毫无疑问，她才是最使人妒嫉的人。
“至于伊迪丝·格兰杰，先生，”少校继续说道，“全欧洲的女人要是能占有伊迪丝·格兰杰的地位，没有一个不会不惜牺牲一切的——先生，您允许白格斯托克少校补充一句，没有一个不愿意不惜牺牲一切的——不仅不惜牺牲她的耳朵，而且也不惜牺牲她的耳环①。”
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①英文成语giveone’sears，意为不惜任何牺牲或不惜任何代价；直译为不惜牺牲自己的耳朵。狄更斯幽默地对这句成语作了引伸。
“谢谢您的一片好意，少校，”董贝先生说道。
“董贝，”少校回答道，“您知道这一点！让我们别来假正经。您知道这一点。您知道还是不知道，董贝？”少校几乎生气地说道。
“哦，真的，少校——”
“他妈的，先生，”少校紧紧追问道，“您知道这个事实还是不知道？董贝！老乔是不是您的朋友？我们相互之间的关系是不是亲密无间到可以允许一个人——一个直肠直肚的老约瑟夫·白，先生——痛痛快快地说出来；还是我要遵循常规旧矩，董贝，保持一定的距离，来一番虚礼客套？”
“我亲爱的白格斯托克少校，”董贝先生露出满意的神态，说道，“您很热情。”
“我的上帝，先生，”少校说道，“我是热情的。约瑟夫·白并不否认这一点，董贝。他是热情的。先生，今天这个日子把乔·白这衰老的、可恨的、疲劳不堪、虚弱残废的躯体中还剩余的一些诚挚的热情全都激发出来了。我要告诉您，董贝：在这样的时候，一个人必须把他心里的话和盘托出才好，要不然就干脆给他戴上个鼻笼好了；约瑟夫·白格斯托克当面对您说，就像他背着您在俱乐部里说的一样：如果谈的是保罗·董贝的话，他就永远也不会戴上鼻笼。唔，他妈的，先生，”少校极为坚决地结束说道，“您对这还有什么要说的？”
“少校，”董贝先生说道，“请您相信，我确实很感谢您。
我不打算抑制您这过于偏颇的友谊。”
“并不过于偏颇，先生！”急躁的少校喊道，“董贝，我否认这一点。”
“既然是这样，我就说是您的友谊吧，”董贝先生继续说道，“无论如何我得这么说。在现在这样的时刻，少校，我也不能忘记我是多么感谢您的友谊。”
“董贝，”少校作出适当的手势，说道，“这是约瑟夫·白格斯托克的手，直率的老乔埃·白的手，如果您更喜欢它的话！已故的约克郡公爵殿下曾使我感到无比光荣，他指着这只手向已故的肯特郡公爵殿下说，这是乔希的手，他是个粗暴的、坚强的，也许还是个精明的流浪汉。董贝，愿现在这个时刻是我们生活中最幸福的时刻。上帝保佑您！”
这时卡克先生进来了，衣着也是豪华的；他满脸笑容，真像是个参加婚礼的客人。他十分热烈地祝贺着，简直舍不得把董贝先生的手放下，同时他又亲热地握着少校的手；当他的从牙齿中间悄悄出来的时候，和手一齐颤抖着。
“连日子也是吉祥的，”卡克先生说道，“阳光明媚、温暖舒适的气候！我希望我没有迟到一秒钟吧！”
“来得很准时，先生，”少校说道。
“我真高兴，”卡克先生说道，“我担心我也许会比预定的时间晚到几秒钟，因为我被一队运货马车挡住了，我就冒昧地绕道骑到布鲁克街，”这些话是对董贝先生说的，“给董贝夫人送去一些名贵的花。一个处在我这种地位、光荣地被邀请到这里来的人，为了表示效忠，略表一点敬意，心中是感到自豪的。由于董贝夫人全身上下、四周一切全都是珍贵和华丽的物品，”这时他向他的恩人奇怪地看了一眼，“我希望正因为我的礼物非常微薄，它反倒会得到女主人的喜爱。”
“我相信，”董贝先生对下属表示恩情地说道，“未来的董贝夫人将会深感您的好意，卡克。”
“如果她今天早上就要成为董贝夫人的话，先生，”少校放下咖啡杯，看看手表，说道，“那么我们就该走了。”
董贝先生、白格斯托克少校和卡克先生乘坐一辆双马四轮大马车，出发前去教堂。教区事务员桑兹先生早就从台阶上站起身来，手中拿着三角帽等待着。米福太太行了屈膝礼，建议他们在祭服室坐一会儿。董贝先生宁愿留在教堂里。当他向上看着风琴的时候，楼座中的托克斯小姐就往后退缩；那里有一块纪念碑，上面有一个脸颊像年轻的风神一样的小天使，她就退缩到这个小天使的胖腿后面。与托克斯小姐相反，卡特尔船长站起来，挥舞着钩子表示欢迎与支持。图茨先生用手遮住嘴巴，告诉斗鸡，中间穿淡黄色裤子的先生就是他意中人的父亲。斗鸡用嘶哑的对图茨先生说，他从来没有见过这样生硬呆板的家伙，可是采用科学的方法，在他背心上猛打一下，就可以把他打得直不起腰来。
桑兹先生和米福太太从不远的地方注视着董贝先生的时候，听到了车轮到达的，桑兹先生就走出去了；楼上有一位放肆的疯子在向董贝先生彬彬有礼地行礼，董贝先生的眼光离开他的时候，米福太太碰上他的眼光，向他行了个屈膝礼，告诉他，她相信他的“好夫人”已经来了。这时候，人们在门口挤来挤去，并交头接耳，嘁嘁喳喳地说着话，那位好夫人则迈着傲慢的步子，走进了教堂。
昨夜的痛苦在她的脸上没有留下一丝痕迹；昨夜跪在地上，把狂怒的头美丽地、自暴自弃地安息在睡着的女孩子的枕头上的那个女人，在她现在的态度中没有留下半点踪影。那位女孩子十分温柔、十分可爱地挨在她身边，跟她本人蔑视一切、目中无人的姿态形成了鲜明的对照；她站在那里，镇静自若、挺然直立，心中的思想难以捉摸，那极为妩媚的风韵光辉而威严，但她却鄙弃地践踏着人们因此而产生的爱慕。
当教区事务员桑兹先生悄悄走到祭服室去请牧师和文书的时候，有一段停歇的时间。斯丘顿夫人在这时候跟董贝先生说话，比平时更清晰，也比平时更富于表情，在这同时她又走近伊迪丝。
“我亲爱的董贝，”这位好妈妈说道，“我担心我毕竟还得放弃可爱的弗洛伦斯，只好按她自己的建议，让她回家去了。我亲爱的董贝，在遭受今天的损失之后，我觉得我连陪伴她的精神也将没有了。”
“她跟您在一起不是更好吗？”新郎回答道。
“我不这么想，我亲爱的董贝。是的，我不这么想。我独自一人更好些。再说，当你们回来的时候，我亲爱的伊迪丝将会是她的天然的和忠诚的保护人；也许，我最好还是别侵犯她的权利；要不，她可能会妒嫉我的。是不是，亲爱的伊迪丝？”
慈爱的妈妈一边说，一边紧握着女儿的胳膊，也许是恳切地想要引起她的注意。
“这是当真的，我亲爱的董贝，”她继续说道，“我将放弃我们亲爱的孩子了；别让我的忧伤传给她。我们刚才已讲妥了。她完全理解，亲爱的董贝。伊迪丝，我亲爱的，——她完全理解。”
好妈妈又紧握着女儿的胳膊。董贝先生不再表示异议；因为教士和文书来了；米福太太，教区事务员桑兹先生向在场的人们指点她们在圣坛前各自的位置。
“谁把这位女子嫁给这位男子？”
菲尼克斯表哥。他是从巴登—巴登①特地为这个目的而来的。菲尼克斯表哥是一位温厚和蔼的人。“去它的！”菲尼克斯表哥说，“我们已把城里一位阔老·确·实弄到家里来了，让我们对他表示殷勤些吧；让我们为他做点事。”
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①巴登——巴登（Baden—Baden）：德国巴登—符腾堡（Baden—Würthemberg）州的一个城市，濒临奥斯（Oos）河；19世纪为欧洲贵族和上流社会的疗养胜地。
“·我把这位女子嫁给这位男子，”菲尼克斯表哥因此就这么说道。菲尼克斯表哥本想笔直走去，但由于他的腿不听话，走到了另一边，起初错把另一位女子“嫁给这位男子”，那是一位有相当身份的女傧相，是这家人的远亲，比斯丘顿夫人小十岁；但是米福太太用她的干瘪的帽子挡住，手脚麻俐地转过他的身子，好像他脚下生着轮子似地推着他，一直推到那位“好夫人”的面前，因此菲尼克斯表哥就把她嫁给这位男子。
他们是不是愿意在上天的眼前——？
是的，他们愿意：董贝先生说，他愿意。伊迪丝说什么呢？她愿意。
这样，他们就相互山盟海誓：从今以后，不论是幸福还是患难，不论是富贵还是贫贱，不论是健康还是生病，他们都将相亲相爱，直到死亡把他们分开为止。他们就这样结了婚。
当他们走进祭服室的时候，新娘用遒劲、潇洒的书法在登记本上签上名。“到这里来的夫人们很少能像这位好夫人这样签名的。”米福太太行了个屈膝礼，说道。——这时候看一下米福太太，就是看她把干瘪的帽子往液中浸一下。教区事务员桑兹先生认为这确实是顶呱呱的签名，和签名的人十分相配。——不过，他把这看法留在自己心里。
弗洛伦斯也签了名，但没有受到称赞，因为她的手是颤抖的。所有的人都签了名；菲尼克斯表哥是最后一位，他把他高贵的姓名签错了地方，仿佛他是在这天早上出生似的。
这时少校十分殷勤地吻了新娘，表示敬意，并把军事上那条各个击破的策略应用到所有的女士们身上；虽然斯丘顿夫人特别难吻，而且还在这神圣的殿堂中尖声叫着。菲尼克斯表哥，甚至连董贝先生也仿效了这个榜样。最后，卡克先生露出闪闪发光的白牙齿，走近伊迪丝，仿佛他打算去咬她，而不是去尝一尝她唇上的甜味似的。
在她高傲的脸颊上泛上一阵红晕，在她的眼睛中闪出一道亮光，可能是想阻止他，但却没有阻止，因为他像其他的人一样吻了她，表示敬意，并向她祝福。
“如果在这样的结合中祝愿不是多余的话，”他低声说道。
“谢谢您，先生，”她轻蔑、厌恶地歪着嘴唇，胸脯上下起伏地回答道。
但是，伊迪丝是不是像她知道董贝先生第二天将前来求婚的那天晚上一样，仍然感到卡克先生彻底地了解她，深切地看透她呢？是不是她觉得他了解她比他不了解她更使她感到屈辱呢？是不是正是由于这个原因，在他的微笑下她的傲慢就像雪在紧握着的手中一样融解了？她的目空一切的眼光一碰上他的眼光就赶快避开，低垂到地上了呢？
“我自豪地看到，”卡克先生奴颜婢膝地低垂着头，说道；在这同时他的眼睛和牙齿又显露出，这种奴颜婢膝完全是虚伪的，“我自豪地看到，在这欢乐的日子，在这神圣的地方，我的微薄的礼物光荣地被董贝夫人拿在手中。”
她虽然低下头，作为回答，但她的手在一刹那间似乎动了动，仿佛她想把手中的花揉得粉碎并轻蔑地抛掷在地上似的；但是她把手伸进她的新的丈夫（他一直站在旁边，和少校谈着话）的胳膊中，又傲视一切，一动不动和沉默不语。
马车又停立在教堂门口。董贝先生挽着新娘的胳膊，穿过了台阶上二十个家庭的小女人们；她们每个人都记住她每件衣服的式样和颜色，并给她们的永远在不断结婚的女玩偶照样做一件。克利奥佩特拉和菲尼克斯表哥进了同一辆马车。少校把弗洛伦斯和那位险些被错当成新娘的女傧相搀扶进第二辆马车，然后他自己进去，随后进来的是卡克先生。马奔腾着前进；马夫和仆役们炫耀着飘动的饰带、花朵和新做的制服。车声辚辚，他们从街道上疾驰而过；当他们经过的时候，成千个头都转过去望着他们，成千个稳重的道学家们由于没能也在这天上午结婚，只好自我安慰地想到，这些人很少想过这种幸福是不能持久的。
当一切都已寂静下来的时候，托克斯小姐从小天使的腿后露出身来，慢吞吞地从楼座上走下来。托克斯小姐的眼睛红了，她的手绢湿了。她的心灵受到了创伤，但她并没有生气；她希望他们将会幸福。她完全承认新娘姿色美丽，而她自己的容颜则相形见绌，缺少魅力；但是董贝先生穿着淡紫色的背心和淡黄色的裤子时那仪表堂堂的形象浮现在她的心头，托克斯小姐在回到公主广场的路途中，在面纱下又重新哭泣起来。卡特尔船长怀着虔诚的心情，用高吼的喊了所有的阿门和应唱圣歌之后，觉得宗教的练习使他得到很大好处。他手中拿着上了光的帽子，心情平静地在教堂四处走着，并朗读了纪念小保罗的墓碑。殷勤的图茨先生怀着爱情的痛苦，由忠实的斗鸡陪伴着，离开了教堂。斗鸡还想不出赢得弗洛伦斯的计策，但他最初的想法还在他脑子里盘旋着，他认为使董贝先生直不起腰来是走向这一方向的正确的一步。董贝先生的仆人们从他们躲藏的角落里跑出来，准备匆匆忙忙地赶到布鲁克街去，但珀奇太太身体有些不舒服