At about noon the groom’s men got up from the table, slung their guns over their shoulders and jumped up onto their horses. Christine’s horse was white. She was crying. Aunt Frosa too. The miller kept his tears back. Then they kissed their daughter goodbye. I wanted to say goodbye to her as well, but I didn’t have the courage to go over to the horses, because of the distant attitude of the men on their backs. I kept in the background. Djouvi, their big dog, staggered slowly about among them, his neck stretched out. I envied him. Christine bent down and kissed him. No one thought of me.
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