eight o’clock in the morning
Since morning I had kept up a perpetual smile for all , and then the good village priest who had married us had thought it his duty , in a very neat sermon so far as the rest of it went , to compare me to Saint Joseph , and that sort of thing is annoying when one is Captain in a lancer regiment . The Mayor , who had been good enough to bring his register to the chateau , had for his part not been able , on catching sight of the prefect , to resist the pleasure of crying , `` Long live the Emperor ! '' On quitting the church they had fired off guns close to my ears and presented me with an immense bouquet . Finally -- I tell you this between ourselves -- since eight o'clock in the morning I had had on a pair of boots rather too tight for me , and at the moment this narrative begins it was about half an hour after midnight . I had spoken to every one except my dear little wife , whom they seemed to take pleasure in keeping away from me . Once , however , on ascending the steps , I had squeezed her hand on the sly . Even then this rash act had cost me a look , half sharp and half sour , from my mother-in-law , which had recalled me to a true sense of the situation .