Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
—Tennyson.
The old, majestic3 Church of St. Gervais had been made quite gay with flowers. Good M. Legros was passing rich, thank God! He could gratify his only child's every whim—however trivial—on this her wedding day.
She had expressed a great desire to see the church quite full of flowers—as many flowers as it could hold, and Papa Legros had spent—so the gossips said—enough money in indulging this wish as would have kept a dozen poor families in comfort for a dozen years.
'Twas mid5 April and there were white roses from the King's conservatories6 in Versailles, white hyacinths from Fontainebleau and white violas from the walled-in gardens at Blois, there were white violets and snowdrops and sweet-scented narcissi. They lay everywhere in heavy fragrant8 bunches and wreaths fashioned by loving hands, untutored in the art of decoration. The high altar groaned9 beneath the weight of huge brass10 pots wherein old-fashioned stocks reared their sweet-scented heads. The Virgin11 in her niche12, the saints upon their altars almost disappeared beneath their monster crowns of violets and of roses.
The central nave13 was filled with a motley crowd, attired14 in holiday clothes, come to see the tailor's daughter wedded15 to the English milor. A few simple folk there were—gaffers and cronies who had watched Rose Marie[171] as she grew up in her father's back shop, and who came with shaking heads and ominous16 murmurs17 to see the last of the poor child, who of a surety would be drowned when she sailed upon the sea or if she did survive that calamity19, would certainly be most unhappy in a land of evil-doers, and of cruel, red-haired, large-toothed men. But there were others, too, mere20 idlers these, who had never before set eyes on an English milor, and were curious to know if what was said of these English were true, namely that they were big as giants and like them ferocious21, with fangs22 instead of teeth, and fists as heavy as bullocks.
Under one of the arches, quite close to the chancel, special places had been reserved and chairs covered with red cloth. Here a small group of gaily-dressed ladies and gentlemen had assembled, gilded23 butterflies flown from out their silken nets over in the St. Germain quarter and even from the Louvre and Versailles; gentlemen of the court and of His Majesty24's bedchamber with their ladies in stiff brocaded paniers and silken skirts which made a soft swishing sound as the wearers turned to right or left to lend an ear to the whisperings of a gallant25 or to murmur18 a word of scandal in that of a friend.
They had crossed the river and wandered into this abandoned quarter of the city from idle curiosity. Rumours26 had reached the Court that the Earl of Stowmaries, one of the richest young gallants of London, had come to wed4 the daughter of the Paris breeches-maker, a man well-known to all. His Majesty had deigned27 to seem interested, Mme. de Montespan expressed a desire to see this milor, whom gossip had reported as handsome and had endowed with the romantic history of early life spent in distant lands, where he was kept in poverty and exiled by a rapacious28 kinsman29, who robbed him of his inheritance.
[172] Gossip as a rule had mingled30 truth with fiction, but the marquise was interested and brought her brilliantly decked-out sycophants31 in her train—gentlemen and ladies who sunned themselves in the sunshine of her graces,—to witness the ceremony of St. Gervais. From this group beneath the archway came the constant murmur of fluttering fans, the rustle32 of silks, the creaking of chairs on the flag-stones of the floor—also at times a giggle33 quickly suppressed, a cry of astonishment34 or amusement held in check only by the solemnity of the surroundings.
The atmosphere was waxing oppressive, despite the cold April breeze which found its way into the edifice35 through the chinks of many cracked window panes36. The scent7 of the poet's narcissus, heavy and intoxicating37, filled nostrils38 and brain with its overpowering savour; the roses already inclined to droop39 added their faded fragrance40 to the air, mingling41, too, with the penetrating42 odour of white Roman hyacinths and the pungent43 smell of primroses44 and of violas, whilst through it all the heavy fumes45 of incense46 rose upwards47 to the high-vaulted roof and wrapped the statues of saints, the small side altars and tall embroidered49 banners in their mystery-creating clouds.
Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris had just entered, robed in gorgeous cope and mitre and followed by the clergy50 of St. Gervais and the band of acolytes51 clad in scarlet52 and white. Behind heavy curtains, a band of skilled musicians from His Majesty's own opera house were playing an Introit from one of M. Lulli's most exquisite53 scores.
All necks were craned to catch sight of the man and woman who were kneeling on crimson54 cushions at the foot of the chancel steps.
The bride could scarce be seen though her figure looked[173] dainty in her simple white gown; but her golden head was hidden beneath a filmy veil of delicate Mechlin lace, which fell right over her face and far back to the edge of her gown.
But every one could see milor well, for his dark head towered above those of the spectators. And he held his head very erect55, some folk thinking that on this occasion a man should look less proud and certainly less defiant56. He was gorgeously clad in surcoat and vest of delicate ivory-tinted silk, with exquisite embroideries57 of gold and silver which the gaffers thought must have cost a mint of money. But then English milors were all so rich, and this one—so 'twas said—was one of the richest amongst all; he certainly was one of the most handsome. Goodly to look at was the verdict of the women, with his dark hair innocent of those monstrous58 perruques which the jeunesse dorée of Paris and Versailles had lately affected59. He wore neither beard nor moustache and every one could see what a firm, strong mouth and jaw60 he had—an obstinate61 one murmured some of the ladies, a masterful one, sighed the others.
Mme. de Montespan enthroned on a velvet-covered armchair made vain attempts to draw his dark, deep-set eyes to hers.
But milor looked straight before him, and his arms were crossed over his broad chest. When Monseigneur kneeled at the foot of the altar and began to recite the first verse of the Introibe, milor knelt too, beside his bride, and buried his face in his hands.
M. and Mme. Legros clad in their Sunday best, knelt quite close to the bridal pair. Maman in rich puce-coloured brocade, her scanty62 locks hidden beneath a remarkable63 confection of lace was frequently mopping her eyes, the[174] while M. Legros, master tailor to the Court of Paris, tried to conceal64 the inordinate65 pride which he felt at seeing his only child wedded to so great a lord.
Now Monseigneur bent66 his broad shoulders and sotto voce murmured the Confiteor. Rose Marie in the innocence67 of her heart prayed to the Virgin to make her quite, quite perfect, as good as my lord thought her to be, lest he be deceived and disappointed in her. She had not spoken to him alone again after that happy yet sad quarter of an hour when she had seen his proud head bent before her, and felt that unutterable pity for him, which so quickly then became unutterable love.
That his self-accusations were only the result of an over-sensitive conscience she firmly believed, and if in his early youth my lord had sinned as other young men sin from thoughtlessness and want of a guiding hand, who was she that she should judge him, now that he had honoured her with his love?
And as Monseigneur at the altar read the Holy Gospel wherein the Good God himself enjoins68 man and woman to cleave69 to one another, Rose Marie's whole heart went out to the man by her side, and the magnetism70 of her enthusiastic sacrifice of her whole self to him drew his dark eyes down to hers.
Michael, as in a dream, saw the exquisite white-clad figure close to him; never—he thought—had he beheld71 aught so lovely, so pure, so worthy72 of love. Then looking from her to the great altar before him, he saw through the moving clouds of incense phantom73 figures and objects from out his past.
There in that dark recess74, beside the niche of that mitred saint, faces of men who had sneered75 at his misfortunes, the men of law who had plundered76 him, and a forest of[175] outstretched palms, oily and smooth awaiting the bribes77. There again high up in the groined roof, his companions in those far-off days in Flanders, faces red with the excesses of the day, hands soiled with the evil deeds of night; the miserable78 camp followers79 in the wake of a starving mercenary army, dissolute men and intemperate80 women; and all around him the poor, miserable scum of London, the men with whom he had herded81, beasts like himself, no more human since wretchedness had killed all manhood in that perpetual, that degrading search after forgetfulness.
All these monsters and ghoulish phantoms82 grinned at Michael now, polluting the sacred edifice with their imaginary presence. They floated corpse-like on the shifting clouds of the ever-rising incense and taunted83 Michael with their grinning faces, daring him now to turn from the broad path of happiness whither the snow-white hand of an ignorant girl was so trustingly leading him.
"Follow the path of honour, follow truth and loyalty84 now, Michael, and to-morrow thou'lt be one of us again: one with the grinning and dishonest sceptics, one with the profligate85 crowd of mercenary soldiers, one with the flotsam and jetsam of criminal London, the drunkards, the roisterers, God's damned upon earth. Truth leads the way to perdition, follow truth now, Michael, an you can."
And as, up high on the altar steps, Monseigneur now held up for the adoration86 of the multitude the sacred mysteries which no brain of man can understand, Michael bowing his head and looking within himself with searching, conscience-stricken eyes, saw nothing but loyalty to the girl who was thus unwittingly snatching him from out the yawning abyss of misery87 and degradation88, of humiliation89 for himself and starvation for his mother.
[176] Anon Monseigneur whispered the Pater Noster, and after that he turned and with hand upheld, three fingers pointing upwards to the mystery-hidden vault48, he pronounced the solemn benediction90 on Michael Kestyon and Rose Marie his wife. Not a sound stirred in the vast and ancient church, save the voice of the Archbishop as it rose high above the chancel, and the blessing91 spoken by him seemed to descend92 with unseen wings on the bowed heads of the two young people whom so strange a fate was linking together.
To her—the girl—it was a Sacrament—this confirmation93 of the vows94 spoken in her name when she was too young even to lisp them; for him it was the word of honour of a man who throughout a rough life had never succeeded in burying honour out of sight.
Both pronounced their vows without thought of ever rebelling against them. Both pronounced the solemn "I will" with fervour as well as gladness. The assistants almost held their breath. Instinctive95 awe96 had silenced every chattering97 tongue, stilled every careless laugh.
My lord's voice rang out clear and distinct in the midst of that hushed reverence98, and more than one fair dame99 accustomed to the insipid100 gallantries of the Court of Versailles sighed for the latent and rugged101 passion which rang out through that firm "I will."
Rose Marie's young heart gave a great leap for joy.
"He loves me," she whispered exultantly102 to herself, despite the solemnity of the moment, the sacredness of her surroundings, "he loves me, he loves me. I can tell it by the sound of his voice."
And she had to press her bouquet103 of roses to her lips to suppress the little cry of joy which almost escaped her throat. Perhaps she did not altogether understand at this[177] moment what she herself meant when she thought "he loves me!" Mayhap some of those ladies in the stiff brocades, who cast admiring glances at my lord knew and guessed much more of what went on in his mind than did the simple tradesman's daughter with the innocent mind and the pure heart of childhood still undefiled within her.
And now Monseigneur came right down the altar steps and my lord and Rose Marie had to rise, and to pass through the wrought-iron gates of the rood screen, then pause, standing104 just below the communion rail. Monseigneur stood there awaiting them, and the good curé of St. Gervais was near him holding a jewelled salver whereon rested two circlets of gold. My lord took one of these between his fingers and some one whispered in Rose Marie's ear to hold out her hand.
From far away came in sweet muffled105 sounds the opening bars of Lulli's Beati Omnes exquisitely106 played on the string instruments. All round Rose Marie's feet lay a carpet of white roses which sent their last dying fragrance into the air. She felt my lord's strong hand grasping her own and the tiny band of gold being slipped on her finger—the sign of her bondage107 to her lord; she was so happy that she could have cried for joy, so happy that she longed to kiss that cold little circlet which now irrevocably bound her to him.
She raised her eyes and saw his dark head bent just over her hand, and it seemed as if a magnetic fluid ran from his veins108 into hers, for she felt the passion which quivered in his pulse, and though she might not wholly understand it as yet, she nevertheless responded to it with all the strength of her young nature full of the joy of love and of life.
[178] "May the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob be with you and remain with you always."
Monseigneur had begun to speak the final prayer. Bride and bridegroom had partaken of the Sacrament together, and Monseigneur had declared that the other sacrament, that of matrimony, had indissolubly now renewed the ties which already bound them to one another since childhood. This was not a marriage, he said, but the repetition of solemn vows made in their name when they were too young to understand, the consecration109 by the Church of those bonds which she forged for them eighteen years ago.
The solemn Amen was pronounced and sung; the King's musicians played the first bars of a stirring wedding march specially110 composed for this great occasion by Ma?tre Colasse of His Majesty's orchestra. There was a general movement amongst the spectators, a great sigh of excited satisfaction as Monseigneur having stood for a few moments whispering final admonitions to milor, now turned and walked with slow steps out through the chancel door.
One by one the glittering group of gorgeously-clad priests and acolytes disappeared out through the narrow opening. The strains of the hidden orchestra swelled111 in glorious volume until they filled every corner of the vast building, like a p?an of triumph and of joy. There was a general frou-frou of silken skirts, a clink of swords, a scraping of chairs against the flagged floor, as my lord now led his young bride down the nave. He pressed her trembling hand against his side, the while he frowned—despite himself—at this crowd of peering faces, this sea of importunate112 looks which made him restive113 and impatient. He longed to take his snowdrop away with him, out of this indifferent throng114, far, far away to some hidden nook[179] among the Kentish hills, there where the lime trees were just beginning to unfold their delicate leaves of emerald tinged115 with gold, where lying on a carpet of primroses and violets, beneath a cool, grey sky, his burning head fanned by the cold, spring breezes, he could kneel at her feet and tell her that with her small icy tendrils she had already twined herself around his heart; that her blue eyes, cold and pure as those of a forget-me-not beside a brook116, had taught the miserable reprobate117 his first lesson of love.
Then when the pale tints118 of the limes turned to a more vivid green, when primroses had paled beneath the shadows of brilliant Lent lilies, then he would try his hand at the great miracle of which he dreamed, the transmutation of the white snowdrop into a glowing, crimson rose.
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1
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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mid
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| adj.中央的，中间的 | |
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conservatories
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| n.（培植植物的）温室，暖房( conservatory的名词复数 ) | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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calamity
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rapacious
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| adj.贪婪的，强夺的 | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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sycophants
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| n.谄媚者，拍马屁者( sycophant的名词复数 ) | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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intoxicating
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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acolytes
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| n.助手( acolyte的名词复数 )；随从；新手；（天主教）侍祭 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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embroideries
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| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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inordinate
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| adj.无节制的；过度的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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67
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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68
enjoins
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| v.命令( enjoin的第三人称单数 ) | |
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69
cleave
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| v．(clave；cleaved)粘着，粘住；坚持；依恋 | |
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70
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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71
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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72
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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73
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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75
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
plundered
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| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
bribes
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| n.贿赂( bribe的名词复数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂v.贿赂( bribe的第三人称单数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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78
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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79
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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80
intemperate
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| adj.无节制的，放纵的 | |
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81
herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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82
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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83
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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84
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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85
profligate
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| adj.行为不检的；n.放荡的人，浪子，肆意挥霍者 | |
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86
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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87
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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88
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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89
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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90
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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91
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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92
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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93
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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94
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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96
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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98
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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99
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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100
insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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101
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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102
exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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103
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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104
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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105
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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106
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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107
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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108
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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109
consecration
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| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
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110
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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111
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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112
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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113
restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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114
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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115
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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117
reprobate
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| n.无赖汉；堕落的人 | |
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118
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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