She heard the sound of the great bell, which was only rung on great occasions; the nearer she came, the more joyfully beat her heart. A gaily-decked steamer lay already at the landing stage, so that they had to go a little further in order to land. They had no sooner found a place where they could moor their boat than Concetta with impatient haste sprang ashore. They then climbed the steep hill as quickly as possible. Great raindrops fell again, and began to wet Concetta's Sunday dress.
At last they reached the cloister; but they had come near missing the ceremony. The solemn tones of the organ were still sounding impressively through the chapel. Concetta, with shining eyes and wet through and through, was standing near the chapel door, contemplating the undreamed-of splendor of costumes of the high-born ladies. The bridal pair, surrounded by wedding guests congratulating them heartily, were not yet visible.
"Now! now!" there was a general movement towards the outer door of the chapel.
"Here they are coming now," whispered Concetta with sparkling eyes full of expectation, to her father, whose head was bowed reverently. Everybody rushed on in order to have an advantageous place when the bridal party passed.
Girls all in white came first, carrying bouquets in their hands, and then Luigi—pale and haggard—looking like a bad conscience personified; and on his arm came the bride all in white!
Concetta saw and heard no more.
The tortured image of Saint Antoni in the entrance stared ghostly at her, dripping drops of blood. The decaying walls of the old cloister tottered about her, flames sprang up towards her from yawning abysses; lightning shot across her brain, and Beelzebub with his infernal band gnashed his teeth at her in a laugh of malicious triumph.
She recoiled, dazed with awe-struck terror without a sound, without a cry she moved unobserved by the jostling crowd behind Luigi. Her blue eyes wide open never turned from him an instant, as if struck dumb by a horror too great for words or cry.