He folded
the dinner napkins according to all the rules of art. He wiped the
wine-glasses, and finally took her bridal-bouquet and put it in a vase
before her place.
When she emerged from her bed-room in her embroidered morning gown and
stepped into the brilliant sunlight, she felt just a tiny bit faint;
he helped her into the armchair, made her drink a little liqueur out
of a liqueur glass and eat a caviare sandwich.
What fun it all was! One could please oneself when one was married.
What would Mama have said if she had seen her daughter drinking
liqueurs at this hour of the morning!
He waited on her as if she were still his fiancee. What a breakfast
they were having on the first morning after their wedding! And nobody
had a right to say a word. Everything was perfectly right and proper,
one could enjoy oneself with the very best of consciences, and that
was the most delightful part of it all. It was not for the first time
that he was eating such a breakfast, but what a difference between
then and now! He had been restless and dissatisfied then; he could not
bear to think of it, now. And as he drank a glass of genuine Swedish
porter after the oysters, he felt the deepest contempt for all
bachelors.
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