Once in Europa

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Will you play at my wedding? Philippe the cheesemaker asked him. Philippe was thirty-four. People had been saying he would never get married.

When is it?

Saturday next.

Why didn’t you ask me before?

I didn’t dare. Will you?

Where does the bride come from?

Yvonne comes from the Jura. Drop into the Republican Lyre tonight and she’ll be there — her parents have come and some friends from Besançon.

The same evening the accordionist, a man in his fifties, found himself sitting in the café, drinking champagne offered by the bride’s father, next to a plump woman who laughed a lot and wore dangling earrings. The accordionist had been looking hard at the young bride and he was sure she was pregnant.

You will play for us? Philippe asked, filling up the glasses.

Yes, I’ll play for you and the Yvonne, he said.

On the floor at his feet lay a dog, its coat turned grey with age. From time to time he caressed its head.

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