Chapter 9

by Frank Norris

　　Trina and McTeague were married on the first day of June, inthe photographer's rooms that the dentist had rented. Allthrough May the Sieppe household had been turned upsidedown. The little box of a house vibrated with excitementand confusion, for not only were the preparations forTrina's marriage to be made, but also the preliminaries wereto be arranged for the hegira of the entire Sieppe family.They were to move to the southern part of the State theday after Trina's marriage, Mr. Sieppe having bought a thirdinterest in an upholstering business in the suburbs of LosAngeles. It was possible that Marcus Schouler would go withthem.Not Stanley penetrating for the first time into the DarkContinent, not Napoleon leading his army across the Alps,was more weighted with responsibility, more burdened withcare, more overcome with the sense of the importance of hisundertaking, than was Mr. Sieppe during this period ofpreparation. From dawn to dark, from dark to early dawn, hetoiled and planned and fretted, organizing and reorganizing,projecting and devising. The trunks were lettered, A, B, andC, the packages and smaller bundles numbered. Each memberof the family had his especial duty to perform, hisparticular bundles to oversee. Not a detail was forgotten--fares, prices, and tips were calculated to two places ofdecimals. Even the amount of food that it would benecessary to carry for the black greyhound was determined.Mrs. Sieppe was to look after the lunch, "der gomisariat."Mr. Sieppe would assume charge of the checks, the money, thetickets, and, of course, general supervision. The twinswould be under the command of Owgooste, who, in turn, wouldreport for orders to his father.Day in and day out these minutiae were rehearsed. Thechildren were drilled in their parts with a militaryexactitude; obedience and punctuality became cardinalvirtues. The vast importance of the undertaking wasinsisted upon with scrupulous iteration. It was amanoeuvre, an army changing its base of operations, averitable tribal migration.On the other hand, Trina's little room was the centre aroundwhich revolved another and different order of things. Thedressmaker came and went, congratulatory visitors invadedthe little front parlor, the chatter of unfamiliar voicesresounded from the front steps; bonnet-boxes and yards ofdress-goods littered the beds and chairs; wrapping paper,tissue paper, and bits of string strewed the floor; a pairof white satin slippers stood on a corner of the toilettable; lengths of white veiling, like a snow-flurry,buried the little work-table; and a mislaid box ofartificial orange blossoms was finally discovered behind thebureau.The two systems of operation often clashed and tangled. Mrs.Sieppe was found by her harassed husband helping Trina withthe waist of her gown when she should have been slicing coldchicken in the kitchen. Mr. Sieppe packed his frock coat,which he would have to wear at the wedding, at the verybottom of "Trunk C." The minister, who called to offer hiscongratulations and to make arrangements, was mistaken forthe expressman.McTeague came and went furtively, dizzied and made uneasy byall this bustle. He got in the way; he trod upon and torebreadths of silk; he tried to help carry the packing-boxes,and broke the hall gas fixture; he came in upon Trina andthe dress-maker at an ill-timed moment, and retiringprecipitately, overturned the piles of pictures stacked inthe hall.There was an incessant going and coming at every moment ofthe day, a great calling up and down stairs, a shouting fromroom to room, an opening and shutting of doors, and anintermittent sound of hammering from the laundry, where Mr.Sieppe in his shirt sleeves labored among the packing-boxes.The twins clattered about on the carpetless floors of thedenuded rooms. Owgooste was smacked from hour to hour, andwept upon the front stairs; the dressmaker called over thebanisters for a hot flatiron; expressmen tramped up and downthe stairway. Mrs. Sieppe stopped in the preparation of thelunches to call "Hoop, Hoop" to the greyhound, throwinglumps of coal. The dog-wheel creaked, the front door bellrang, delivery wagons rumbled away, windows rattled--thelittle house was in a positive uproar.Almost every day of the week now Trina was obliged to runover to town and meet McTeague. No more philandering overtheir lunch now-a-days. It was business now. They hauntedthe house-furnishing floors of the great department houses,inspecting and pricing ranges, hardware, china, and thelike. They rented the photographer's rooms furnished, andfortunately only the kitchen and dining-room utensils had tobe bought.The money for this as well as for her trousseau cameout of Trina's five thousand dollars. For it had beenfinally decided that two hundred dollars of this amountshould be devoted to the establishment of the new household.Now that Trina had made her great winning, Mr. Sieppe nolonger saw the necessity of dowering her further, especiallywhen he considered the enormous expense to which he would beput by the voyage of his own family.It had been a dreadful wrench for Trina to break in upon herprecious five thousand. She clung to this sum with atenacity that was surprising; it had become for her a thingmiraculous, a god-from-the-machine, suddenly descending uponthe stage of her humble little life; she regarded it assomething almost sacred and inviolable. Never, never shoulda penny of it be spent. Before she could be induced to partwith two hundred dollars of it, more than one scene had beenenacted between her and her parents.Did Trina pay for the golden tooth out of this two hundred?Later on, the dentist often asked her about it, but Trinainvariably laughed in his face, declaring that it was hersecret. McTeague never found out.One day during this period McTeague told Trina about hisaffair with Marcus. Instantly she was aroused."He threw his knife at you! The coward! He wouldn't of daredstand up to you like a man. Oh, Mac, suppose he had hityou?""Came within an inch of my head," put in McTeague, proudly."Think of it!" she gasped; "and he wanted part of my money.Well, I do like his cheek; part of my five thousand! Why,it's mine, every single penny of it. Marcus hasn't the leastbit of right to it. It's mine, mine.--I mean, it's ours,Mac, dear."The elder Sieppes, however, made excuses for Marcus. He hadprobably been drinking a good deal and didn't know what hewas about. He had a dreadful temper, anyhow. Maybe he onlywanted to scare McTeague.The week before the marriage the two men were reconciled.Mrs. Sieppe brought them together in the front parlorof the B Street house."Now, you two fellers, don't be dot foolish. Schake handsund maig ut oop, soh."Marcus muttered an apology. McTeague, miserablyembarrassed, rolled his eyes about the room, murmuring,"That's all right--that's all right--that's all right."However, when it was proposed that Marcus should beMcTeague's best man, he flashed out again with renewedviolence. Ah, no! ah, no! He'd make up with thedentist now that he was going away, but he'd be damned--yes,he would--before he'd be his best man. That was rubbing itin. Let him get Old Grannis."I'm friends with um all right," vociferated Marcus, "butI'll not stand up with um. I'll not be anybody's bestman, I won't."The wedding was to be very quiet; Trina preferred it thatway. McTeague would invite only Miss Baker and Heise theharness-maker. The Sieppes sent cards to Selina, who wascounted on to furnish the music; to Marcus, of course; andto Uncle Oelbermann.At last the great day, the first of June, arrived. TheSieppes had packed their last box and had strapped the lasttrunk. Trina's two trunks had already been sent to her newhome--the remodelled photographer's rooms. The B Streethouse was deserted; the whole family came over to the cityon the last day of May and stopped over night at one of thecheap downtown hotels. Trina would be married the followingevening, and immediately after the wedding supper theSieppes would leave for the South.McTeague spent the day in a fever of agitation, frightenedout of his wits each time that Old Grannis left his elbow.Old Grannis was delighted beyond measure at the prospect ofacting the part of best man in the ceremony. This weddingin which he was to figure filled his mind with vague ideasand half-formed thoughts. He found himself continuallywondering what Miss Baker would think of it. During allthat day he was in a reflective mood."Marriage is a--a noble institution, is it not, Doctor?" heobserved to McTeague. "The--the foundation of society.It is not good that man should be alone. No, no," he added,pensively, "it is not good.""Huh? Yes, yes," McTeague answered, his eyes in the air,hardly hearing him. "Do you think the rooms are all right?Let's go in and look at them again."They went down the hall to where the new rooms weresituated, and the dentist inspected them for the twentiethtime.The rooms were three in number--first, the sitting-room,which was also the dining-room; then the bedroom, and backof this the tiny kitchen.The sitting-room was particularly charming. Clean mattingcovered the floor, and two or three bright colored rugs werescattered here and there. The backs of the chairs were hungwith knitted worsted tidies, very gay. The bay windowshould have been occupied by Trina's sewing machine, butthis had been moved to the other side of the room to giveplace to a little black walnut table with spiral legs,before which the pair were to be married. In one cornerstood the parlor melodeon, a family possession of theSieppes, but given now to Trina as one of her parents'wedding presents. Three pictures hung upon the walls. Twowere companion pieces. One of these represented a littleboy wearing huge spectacles and trying to smoke an enormouspipe. This was called "I'm Grandpa," the title beingprinted in large black letters; the companion picture wasentitled "I'm Grandma," a little girl in cap and "specs,"wearing mitts, and knitting. These pictures were hung oneither side of the mantelpiece. The other picture was quitean affair, very large and striking. It was a coloredlithograph of two little golden-haired girls in their night-gowns. They were kneeling down and saying their prayers;their eyes--very large and very blue--rolled upward. Thispicture had for name, "Faith," and was bordered with a redplush mat and a frame of imitation beaten brass.A door hung with chenille portieres--a bargain at twodollars and a half--admitted one to the bedroom. Thebedroom could boast a carpet, three-ply ingrain, the designbeing bunches of red and green flowers in yellowbaskets on a white ground. The wall-paper was admirable--hundreds and hundreds of tiny Japanese mandarins, allidentically alike, helping hundreds of almond-eyed ladiesinto hundreds of impossible junks, while hundreds of bamboopalms overshadowed the pair, and hundreds of long-leggedstorks trailed contemptuously away from the scene. This roomwas prolific in pictures. Most of them were framed coloredprints from Christmas editions of the London "Graphic" and"Illustrated News," the subject of each picture inevitablyinvolving very alert fox terriers and very pretty moon-facedlittle girls.Back of the bedroom was the kitchen, a creation of Trina's,a dream of a kitchen, with its range, its porcelain-linedsink, its copper boiler, and its overpowering array offlashing tinware. Everything was new; everything wascomplete.Maria Macapa and a waiter from one of the restaurants in thestreet were to prepare the wedding supper here. Maria hadalready put in an appearance. The fire was crackling in thenew stove, that smoked badly; a smell of cooking was in theair. She drove McTeague and Old Grannis from the room withgreat gestures of her bare arms.This kitchen was the only one of the three rooms they hadbeen obliged to furnish throughout. Most of the sitting-room and bedroom furniture went with the suite; a few piecesthey had bought; the remainder Trina had brought over fromthe B Street house.The presents had been set out on the extension table in thesitting-room. Besides the parlor melodeon, Trina's parentshad given her an ice-water set, and a carving knife and forkwith elk-horn handles. Selina had painted a view of theGolden Gate upon a polished slice of redwood that answeredthe purposes of a paper weight. Marcus Schouler--afterimpressing upon Trina that his gift was to her, and notto McTeague--had sent a chatelaine watch of German silver;Uncle Oelbermann's present, however, had been awaited with agood deal of curiosity. What would he send? He was veryrich; in a sense Trina was his protege. A couple ofdays before that upon which the wedding was to takeplace, two boxes arrived with his card. Trina andMcTeague, assisted by Old Grannis, had opened them. Thefirst was a box of all sorts of toys."But what--what--I don't make it out," McTeague hadexclaimed. "Why should he send us toys? We have no need oftoys." Scarlet to her hair, Trina dropped into a chair andlaughed till she cried behind her handkerchief."We've no use of toys," muttered McTeague, looking at her inperplexity. Old Grannis smiled discreetly, raising atremulous hand to his chin.The other box was heavy, bound with withes at the edges, theletters and stamps burnt in."I think--I really think it's champagne," said Old Grannisin a whisper. So it was. A full case of Monopole. What awonder! None of them had seen the like before. Ah, thisUncle Oelbermann! That's what it was to be rich. Not oneof the other presents produced so deep an impression asthis.After Old Grannis and the dentist had gone through therooms, giving a last look around to see that everything wasready, they returned to McTeague's "Parlors." At the doorOld Grannis excused himself.At four o'clock McTeague began to dress, shaving himselffirst before the hand-glass that was hung against thewoodwork of the bay window. While he shaved he sang withstrange inappropriateness:"No one to love, none to Caress,Left all alone in this world's wilderness."But as he stood before the mirror, intent upon his shaving,there came a roll of wheels over the cobbles in front of thehouse. He rushed to the window. Trina had arrived with herfather and mother. He saw her get out, and as she glancedupward at his window, their eyes met.Ah, there she was. There she was, his little woman, lookingup at him, her adorable little chin thrust upward with thatfamiliar movement of innocence and confidence. Thedentist saw again, as if for the first time, her small, paleface looking out from beneath her royal tiara of black hair;he saw again her long, narrow blue eyes; her lips, nose, andtiny ears, pale and bloodless, and suggestive of anaemia, asif all the vitality that should have lent them color hadbeen sucked up into the strands and coils of that wonderfulhair.As their eyes met they waved their hands gayly to eachother; then McTeague heard Trina and her mother come up thestairs and go into the bedroom of the photographer's suite,where Trina was to dress.No, no; surely there could be no longer any hesitation. Heknew that he loved her. What was the matter with him, thathe should have doubted it for an instant? The greatdifficulty was that she was too good, too adorable, toosweet, too delicate for him, who was so huge, so clumsy, sobrutal.There was a knock at the door. It was Old Grannis. He wasdressed in his one black suit of broadcloth, much wrinkled;his hair was carefully brushed over his bald forehead."Miss Trina has come," he announced, "and the minister. Youhave an hour yet."The dentist finished dressing. He wore a suit bought forthe occasion--a ready made "Prince Albert" coat too short inthe sleeves, striped "blue" trousers, and new patent leathershoes--veritable instruments of torture. Around his collarwas a wonderful necktie that Trina had given him; it was ofsalmon-pink satin; in its centre Selina had painted a knotof blue forget-me-nots.At length, after an interminable period of waiting, Mr.Sieppe appeared at the door."Are you reatty?" he asked in a sepulchral whisper. "Gome,den." It was like King Charles summoned to execution. Mr.Sieppe preceded them into the hall, moving at a funerealpace. He paused. Suddenly, in the direction of the sitting-room, came the strains of the parlor melodeon. Mr. Sieppeflung his arm in the air."Vowaarts!" he cried.He left them at the door of the sitting-room, hehimself going into the bedroom where Trina was waiting,entering by the hall door. He was in a tremendous state ofnervous tension, fearful lest something should go wrong. Hehad employed the period of waiting in going through his partfor the fiftieth time, repeating what he had to say in a lowvoice. He had even made chalk marks on the matting in theplaces where he was to take positions.The dentist and Old Grannis entered the sitting-room; theminister stood behind the little table in the bay window,holding a book, one finger marking the place; he was rigid,erect, impassive. On either side of him, in a semi-circle,stood the invited guests. A little pock-marked gentleman inglasses, no doubt the famous Uncle Oelbermann; Miss Baker,in her black grenadine, false curls, and coral brooch;Marcus Schouler, his arms folded, his brows bent, grand andgloomy; Heise the harness-maker, in yellow gloves, intentlystudying the pattern of the matting; and Owgooste, in hisFauntleroy "costume," stupefied and a little frightened,rolling his eyes from face to face. Selina sat at the parlormelodeon, fingering the keys, her glance wandering to thechenille portieres. She stopped playing as McTeague and OldGrannis entered and took their places. A profound silenceensued. Uncle Oelbermann's shirt front could be heardcreaking as he breathed. The most solemn expressionpervaded every face.All at once the portieres were shaken violently. It was asignal. Selina pulled open the stops and swung into thewedding march.Trina entered. She was dressed in white silk, a crown oforange blossoms was around her swarthy hair--dressed highfor the first time--her veil reached to the floor. Her facewas pink, but otherwise she was calm. She looked quietlyaround the room as she crossed it, until her glance restedon McTeague, smiling at him then very prettily and withperfect self-possession.She was on her father's arm. The twins, dressed exactlyalike, walked in front, each carrying an enormous bouquet ofcut flowers in a "lace-paper" holder. Mrs. Sieppe followedin the rear. She was crying; her handkerchief was rolledinto a wad. From time to time she looked at the trainof Trina's dress through her tears. Mr. Sieppe marched hisdaughter to the exact middle of the floor, wheeled at rightangles, and brought her up to the minister. He stepped backthree paces, and stood planted upon one of his chalk marks,his face glistening with perspiration.Then Trina and the dentist were married. The guests stoodin constrained attitudes, looking furtively out of thecorners of their eyes. Mr. Sieppe never moved a muscle;Mrs. Sieppe cried into her handkerchief all the time. Atthe melodeon Selina played "Call Me Thine Own," very softly,the tremulo stop pulled out. She looked over her shoulderfrom time to time. Between the pauses of the music onecould hear the low tones of the minister, the responses ofthe participants, and the suppressed sounds of Mrs. Sieppe'sweeping. Outside the noises of the street rose to thewindows in muffled undertones, a cable car rumbled past, anewsboy went by chanting the evening papers; from somewherein the building itself came a persistent noise of sawing.Trina and McTeague knelt. The dentist's knees thudded onthe floor and he presented to view the soles of his shoes,painfully new and unworn, the leather still yellow, thebrass nail heads still glittering. Trina sank at his sidevery gracefully, setting her dress and train with a littlegesture of her free hand. The company bowed their heads,Mr. Sieppe shutting his eyes tight. But Mrs. Sieppe tookadvantage of the moment to stop crying and make furtivegestures towards Owgooste, signing him to pull down hiscoat. But Owgooste gave no heed; his eyes were startingfrom their sockets, his chin had dropped upon his lacecollar, and his head turned vaguely from side to side with acontinued and maniacal motion.All at once the ceremony was over before any one expectedit. The guests kept their positions for a moment, eyeing oneanother, each fearing to make the first move, not quitecertain as to whether or not everything were finished. Butthe couple faced the room, Trina throwing back her veil.She--perhaps McTeague as well--felt that there was a certaininadequateness about the ceremony. Was that all there wasto it? Did just those few muttered phrases make themman and wife? It had been over in a few moments, but it hadbound them for life. Had not something been left out? Wasnot the whole affair cursory, superficial? It wasdisappointing.But Trina had no time to dwell upon this. Marcus Schouler,in the manner of a man of the world, who knew how to act inevery situation, stepped forward and, even before Mr. orMrs. Sieppe, took Trina's hand."Let me be the first to congratulate Mrs. McTeague," hesaid, feeling very noble and heroic. The strain of theprevious moments was relaxed immediately, the guests crowdedaround the pair, shaking hands--a babel of talk arose."Owgooste, will you pull down your goat, den?""Well, my dear, now you're married and happy. When I firstsaw you two together, I said, 'What a pair!' We're to beneighbors now; you must come up and see me very often andwe'll have tea together.""Did you hear that sawing going on all the time? I declareit regularly got on my nerves."Trina kissed her father and mother, crying a little herselfas she saw the tears in Mrs. Sieppe's eyes.Marcus came forward a second time, and, with an air of greatgravity, kissed his cousin upon the forehead. Heise wasintroduced to Trina and Uncle Oelbermann to the dentist.For upwards of half an hour the guests stood about ingroups, filling the little sitting-room with a great chatterof talk. Then it was time to make ready for supper.This was a tremendous task, in which nearly all the guestswere obliged to assist. The sitting-room was transformedinto a dining-room. The presents were removed from theextension table and the table drawn out to its full length.The cloth was laid, the chairs--rented from the dancingacademy hard by--drawn up, the dishes set out, and the twobouquets of cut flowers taken from the twins under theirshrill protests, and "arranged" in vases at either end ofthe table.There was a great coming and going between the kitchenand the sitting-room. Trina, who was allowed to donothing, sat in the bay window and fretted, calling to hermother from time to time:"The napkins are in the right-hand drawer of the pantry.""Yes, yes, I got um. Where do you geep der zoup blates?""The soup plates are here already.""Say, Cousin Trina, is there a corkscrew? What is homewithout a corkscrew?""In the kitchen-table drawer, in the left-hand corner.""Are these the forks you want to use, Mrs. McTeague?""No, no, there's some silver forks. Mamma knows where."They were all very gay, laughing over their mistakes,getting in one another's way, rushing into the sitting-room,their hands full of plates or knives or glasses, and dartingout again after more. Marcus and Mr. Sieppe took theircoats off. Old Grannis and Miss Baker passed each other inthe hall in a constrained silence, her grenadine brushingagainst the elbow of his wrinkled frock coat. UncleOelbermann superintended Heise opening the case of champagnewith the gravity of a magistrate. Owgooste was assigned thetask of filling the new salt and pepper canisters of red andblue glass.In a wonderfully short time everything was ready. MarcusSchouler resumed his coat, wiping his forehead, andremarking:"I tell you, I've been doing chores for my board.""To der table!" commanded Mr. Sieppe.The company sat down with a great clatter, Trina at thefoot, the dentist at the head, the others arrangedthemselves in haphazard fashion. But it happened thatMarcus Schouler crowded into the seat beside Selina, towardswhich Old Grannis was directing himself. There was but oneother chair vacant, and that at the side of Miss Baker. OldGrannis hesitated, putting his hand to his chin. However,there was no escape. In great trepidation he sat downbeside the retired dressmaker. Neither of them spoke. OldGrannis dared not move, but sat rigid, his eyes riveted onhis empty soup plate.All at once there was a report like a pistol. The menstarted in their places. Mrs. Sieppe uttered a muffledshriek. The waiter from the cheap restaurant, hired asMaria's assistant, rose from a bending posture, a champagnebottle frothing in his hand; he was grinning from ear toear."Don't get scairt," he said, reassuringly, "it ain'tloaded."When all their glasses had been filled, Marcus proposed thehealth of the bride, "standing up." The guests rose anddrank. Hardly one of them had ever tasted champagne before.The moment's silence after the toast was broken by McTeagueexclaiming with a long breath of satisfaction: "That's thebest beer I ever drank."There was a roar of laughter. Especially was Marcus tickledover the dentist's blunder; he went off in a very spasm ofmirth, banging the table with his fist, laughing until hiseyes watered. All through the meal he kept breaking outinto cackling imitations of McTeague's words: "That's thebest beer I ever drank. Oh, Lord, ain't that a break!"What a wonderful supper that was! There was oyster soup;there were sea bass and barracuda; there was a giganticroast goose stuffed with chestnuts; there were egg-plant andsweet potatoes--Miss Baker called them "yams." There wascalf's head in oil, over which Mr. Sieppe went intoecstasies; there was lobster salad; there were rice pudding,and strawberry ice cream, and wine jelly, and stewed prunes,and cocoanuts, and mixed nuts, and raisins, and fruit, andtea, and coffee, and mineral waters, and lemonade.For two hours the guests ate; their faces red, their elbowswide, the perspiration beading their foreheads. All aroundthe table one saw the same incessant movement of jaws andheard the same uninterrupted sound of chewing. Three timesHeise passed his plate for more roast goose. Mr. Sieppedevoured the calf's head with long breaths of contentment;McTeague ate for the sake of eating, without choice;everything within reach of his hands found its way into hisenormous mouth.There was but little conversation, and that only of thefood; one exchanged opinions with one's neighbor as to thesoup, the egg-plant, or the stewed prunes. Soon theroom became very warm, a faint moisture appeared upon thewindows, the air was heavy with the smell of cooked food.At every moment Trina or Mrs. Sieppe urged some one of thecompany to have his or her plate refilled. They wereconstantly employed in dishing potatoes or carving the gooseor ladling gravy. The hired waiter circled around theroom, his limp napkin over his arm, his hands full of platesand dishes. He was a great joker; he had names of his ownfor different articles of food, that sent gales of laughteraround the table. When he spoke of a bunch of parsley as"scenery," Heise all but strangled himself over a mouthfulof potato. Out in the kitchen Maria Macapa did the work ofthree, her face scarlet, her sleeves rolled up; every nowand then she uttered shrill but unintelligible outcries,supposedly addressed to the waiter."Uncle Oelbermann," said Trina, "let me give you anotherhelping of prunes."The Sieppes paid great deference to Uncle Oelbermann, asindeed did the whole company. Even Marcus Schouler loweredhis voice when he addressed him. At the beginning of themeal he had nudged the harness-maker and had whisperedbehind his hand, nodding his head toward the wholesale toydealer, "Got thirty thousand dollars in the bank; has, for afact.""Don't have much to say," observed Heise."No, no. That's his way; never opens his face."As the evening wore on, the gas and two lamps were lit. Thecompany were still eating. The men, gorged with food, hadunbuttoned their vests. McTeague's cheeks were distended,his eyes wide, his huge, salient jaw moved with a machine-like regularity; at intervals he drew a series of shortbreaths through his nose. Mrs. Sieppe wiped her foreheadwith her napkin."Hey, dere, poy, gif me some more oaf dat--what you call--'bubble-water.'"That was how the waiter had spoken of the champagne--"bubble-water." The guests had shouted applause, "Outasight." He was a heavy josher was that waiter.Bottle after bottle was opened, the women stoppingtheir ears as the corks were drawn. All of a sudden thedentist uttered an exclamation, clapping his hand to hisnose, his face twisting sharply."Mac, what is it?" cried Trina in alarm."That champagne came to my nose," he cried, his eyeswatering. "It stings like everything.""Great beer, ain't ut?" shouted Marcus."Now, Mark," remonstrated Trina in a low voice. "Now, Mark,you just shut up; that isn't funny any more. I don't wantyou should make fun of Mac. He called it beer on purpose.I guess he knows."Throughout the meal old Miss Baker had occupied herselflargely with Owgooste and the twins, who had been given atable by themselves--the black walnut table before which theceremony had taken place. The little dressmaker wascontinually turning about in her place, inquiring of thechildren if they wanted for anything; inquiries they rarelyanswered other than by stare, fixed, ox-like,expressionless.Suddenly the little dressmaker turned to Old Grannis andexclaimed:"I'm so very fond of little children.""Yes, yes, they're very interesting. I'm very fond of them,too."The next instant both of the old people were overwhelmedwith confusion. What! They had spoken to each other afterall these years of silence; they had for the first timeaddressed remarks to each other.The old dressmaker was in a torment of embarrassment. Howwas it she had come to speak? She had neither planned norwished it. Suddenly the words had escaped her, he hadanswered, and it was all over--over before they knew it.Old Grannis's fingers trembled on the table ledge, his heartbeat heavily, his breath fell short. He had actually talkedto the little dressmaker. That possibility to which he hadlooked forward, it seemed to him for years--thatcompanionship, that intimacy with his fellow-lodger,that delightful acquaintance which was only to ripen at somefar distant time, he could not exactly say when--behold, ithad suddenly come to a head, here in this over-crowded,over-heated room, in the midst of all this feeding,surrounded by odors of hot dishes, accompanied by the soundsof incessant mastication. How different he had imagined itwould be! They were to be alone--he and Miss Baker--in theevening somewhere, withdrawn from the world, very quiet,very calm and peaceful. Their talk was to be of theirlives, their lost illusions, not of other people's children.The two old people did not speak again. They sat there sideby side, nearer than they had ever been before, motionless,abstracted; their thoughts far away from that scene offeasting. They were thinking of each other and they wereconscious of it. Timid, with the timidity of their secondchildhood, constrained and embarrassed by each other'spresence, they were, nevertheless, in a little Elysium oftheir own creating. They walked hand in hand in a deliciousgarden where it was always autumn; together and alone theyentered upon the long retarded romance of their commonplaceand uneventful lives.At last that great supper was over, everything had beeneaten; the enormous roast goose had dwindled to a veryskeleton. Mr. Sieppe had reduced the calf's head to a mereskull; a row of empty champagne bottles--"dead soldiers," asthe facetious waiter had called them--lined the mantelpiece.Nothing of the stewed prunes remained but the juice, whichwas given to Owgooste and the twins. The platters were asclean as if they had been washed; crumbs of bread, potatoparings, nutshells, and bits of cake littered the table;coffee and ice-cream stains and spots of congealed gravymarked the position of each plate. It was a devastation, apillage; the table presented the appearance of an abandonedbattlefield."Ouf," cried Mrs. Sieppe, pushing back, "I haf eatun undeatun, ach, Gott, how I haf eatun!""Ah, dot kaf's het," murmured her husband, passing histongue over his lips.The facetious waiter had disappeared. He and MariaMacapa foregathered in the kitchen. They drew up to thewashboard of the sink, feasting off the remnants of thesupper, slices of goose, the remains of the lobster salad,and half a bottle of champagne. They were obliged to drinkthe latter from teacups."Here's how," said the waiter gallantly, as he raised histea-cup, bowing to Maria across the sink. "Hark," he added,"they're singing inside."The company had left the table and had assembled about themelodeon, where Selina was seated. At first they attemptedsome of the popular songs of the day, but were obliged togive over as none of them knew any of the words beyond thefirst line of the chorus. Finally they pitched upon"Nearer, My God, to Thee," as the only song which they allknew. Selina sang the "alto," very much off the key; Marcusintoned the bass, scowling fiercely, his chin drawn into hiscollar. They sang in very slow time. The song became adirge, a lamentable, prolonged wail of distress:"Nee-rah, my Gahd, to Thee,Nee-rah to Thee-ah."At the end of the song, Uncle Oelbermann put on his hatwithout a word of warning. Instantly there was a hush. Theguests rose."Not going so soon, Uncle Oelbermann?" protested Trina,politely. He only nodded. Marcus sprang forward to helphim with his overcoat. Mr. Sieppe came up and the two menshook hands.Then Uncle Oelbermann delivered himself of an oracularphrase. No doubt he had been meditating it during thesupper. Addressing Mr. Sieppe, he said:"You have not lost a daughter, but have gained a son."These were the only words he had spoken the entire evening.He departed; the company was profoundly impressed.About twenty minutes later, when Marcus Schouler wasentertaining the guests by eating almonds, shells andall, Mr. Sieppe started to his feet, watch in hand."Haf-bast elevun," he shouted. "Attention! Der dime hafarrive, shtop eferyting. We depart."This was a signal for tremendous confusion. Mr. Sieppeimmediately threw off his previous air of relaxation, thecalf's head was forgotten, he was once again the leader ofvast enterprises."To me, to me," he cried. "Mommer, der tervins, Owgooste."He marshalled his tribe together, with tremendous commandinggestures. The sleeping twins were suddenly shaken into adazed consciousness; Owgooste, whom the almond-eating ofMarcus Schouler had petrified with admiration, was smackedto a realization of his surroundings.Old Grannis, with a certain delicacy that was one of hischaracteristics, felt instinctively that the guests--themere outsiders--should depart before the family began itsleave-taking of Trina. He withdrew unobtrusively, after ahasty good-night to the bride and groom. The rest followedalmost immediately."Well, Mr. Sieppe," exclaimed Marcus, "we won't see eachother for some time." Marcus had given up his firstintention of joining in the Sieppe migration. He spoke in alarge way of certain affairs that would keep him in SanFrancisco till the fall. Of late he had entertainedambitions of a ranch life, he would breed cattle, he had alittle money and was only looking for some one "to go inwith." He dreamed of a cowboy's life and saw himself in anentrancing vision involving silver spurs and untamedbronchos. He told himself that Trina had cast him off, thathis best friend had "played him for a sucker," that the"proper caper" was to withdraw from the world entirely."If you hear of anybody down there," he went on, speaking toMr. Sieppe, "that wants to go in for ranching, why just letme know.""Soh, soh," answered Mr. Sieppe abstractedly, peering aboutfor Owgooste's cap.Marcus bade the Sieppes farewell. He and Heise went outtogether. One heard them, as they descended thestairs, discussing the possibility of Frenna's place beingstill open.Then Miss Baker departed after kissing Trina on both cheeks.Selina went with her. There was only the family left.Trina watched them go, one by one, with an increasingfeeling of uneasiness and vague apprehension. Soon theywould all be gone."Well, Trina," exclaimed Mr. Sieppe, "goot-py; perhaps yougome visit us somedime."Mrs. Sieppe began crying again."Ach, Trina, ven shall I efer see you again?"Tears came to Trina's eyes in spite of herself. She put herarms around her mother."Oh, sometime, sometime," she cried. The twins and Owgoosteclung to Trina's skirts, fretting and whimpering.McTeague was miserable. He stood apart from the group, in acorner. None of them seemed to think of him; he was not ofthem."Write to me very often, mamma, and tell me abouteverything--about August and the twins.""It is dime," cried Mr. Sieppe, nervously. "Goot-py, Trina.Mommer, Owgooste, say goot-py, den we must go. Goot-py,Trina." He kissed her. Owgooste and the twins were liftedup. "Gome, gome," insisted Mr. Sieppe, moving toward thedoor."Goot-py, Trina," exclaimed Mrs. Sieppe, crying harder thanever. "Doktor--where is der doktor--Doktor, pe goot to her,eh? pe vairy goot, eh, won't you? Zum day, Dokter, you villhaf a daughter, den you know berhaps how I feel, yes."They were standing at the door by this time. Mr. Sieppe,half way down the stairs, kept calling "Gome, gome, we missder drain."Mrs. Sieppe released Trina and started down the hall, thetwins and Owgooste following. Trina stood in the doorway,looking after them through her tears. They were going,going. When would she ever see them again? She was to beleft alone with this man to whom she had just been married.A sudden vague terror seized her; she left McTeague andran down the hall and caught her mother around the neck."I don't want you to go," she whispered in her mother'sear, sobbing. "Oh, mamma, I--I'm 'fraid.""Ach, Trina, you preak my heart. Don't gry, poor leetlegirl." She rocked Trina in her arms as though she were achild again. "Poor leetle scairt girl, don' gry--soh--soh--soh, dere's nuttun to pe 'fraid oaf. Dere, go to yourhoasban'. Listen, popper's galling again; go den; goot-by."She loosened Trina's arms and started down the stairs. Trinaleaned over the banisters, straining her eyes after hermother."What is ut, Trina?""Oh, good-by, good-by.""Gome, gome, we miss der drain.""Mamma, oh, mamma!""What is ut, Trina?""Good-by.""Goot-py, leetle daughter.""Good-by, good-by, good-by."The street door closed. The silence was profound.For another moment Trina stood leaning over the banisters,looking down into the empty stairway. It was dark. Therewas nobody. They--her father, her mother, the children--hadleft her, left her alone. She faced about toward the rooms--faced her husband, faced her new home, the new life thatwas to begin now.The hall was empty and deserted. The great flat around herseemed new and huge and strange; she felt horribly alone.Even Maria and the hired waiter were gone. On one of thefloors above she heard a baby crying. She stood there aninstant in the dark hall, in her wedding finery, lookingabout her, listening. From the open door of the sitting-room streamed a gold bar of light.She went down the hall, by the open door of the sitting-room, going on toward the hall door of the bedroom.As she softly passed the sitting-room she glanced hastilyin. The lamps and the gas were burning brightly, the chairswere pushed back from the table just as the guests had leftthem, and the table itself, abandoned, deserted,presented to view the vague confusion of its dishes, itsknives and forks, its empty platters and crumpled napkins.The dentist sat there leaning on his elbows, his back towardher; against the white blur of the table he looked colossal.Above his giant shoulders rose his thick, red neck and maneof yellow hair. The light shone pink through the gristle ofhis enormous ears.Trina entered the bedroom, closing the door after her. Atthe sound, she heard McTeague start and rise."Is that you, Trina?"She did not answer; but paused in the middle of the room,holding her breath, trembling.The dentist crossed the outside room, parted the chenilleportieres, and came in. He came toward her quickly, makingas if to take her in his arms. His eyes were alight."No, no," cried Trina, shrinking from him. Suddenly seizedwith the fear of him--the intuitive feminine fear of themale--her whole being quailed before him. She was terrifiedat his huge, square-cut head; his powerful, salient jaw; hishuge, red hands; his enormous, resistless strength."No, no--I'm afraid," she cried, drawing back from him tothe other side of the room."Afraid?" answered the dentist in perplexity. "What are youafraid of, Trina? I'm not going to hurt you. What are youafraid of?"What, indeed, was Trina afraid of? She could not tell. Butwhat did she know of McTeague, after all? Who was this manthat had come into her life, who had taken her from her homeand from her parents, and with whom she was now left alonehere in this strange, vast flat?"Oh, I'm afraid. I'm afraid," she cried.McTeague came nearer, sat down beside her and put one armaround her."What are you afraid of, Trina?" he said, reassuringly. "Idon't want to frighten you."She looked at him wildly, her adorable little chinquivering, the tears brimming in her narrow blue eyes.Then her glance took on a certain intentness, and she peeredcuriously into his face, saying almost in a whisper:"I'm afraid of you."But the dentist did not heed her. An immense joy seizedupon him--the joy of possession. Trina was his very ownnow. She lay there in the hollow of his arm, helpless andvery pretty.Those instincts that in him were so close to the surfacesuddenly leaped to life, shouting and clamoring, not to beresisted. He loved her. Ah, did he not love her? Thesmell of her hair, of her neck, rose to him.Suddenly he caught her in both his huge arms, crushing downher struggle with his immense strength, kissing her fullupon the mouth. Then her great love for McTeague suddenlyflashed up in Trina's breast; she gave up to him as she haddone before, yielding all at once to that strange desire ofbeing conquered and subdued. She clung to him, her handsclasped behind his neck, whispering in his ear:"Oh, you must be good to me--very, very good to me, dear--for you're all that I have in the world now."