And so, on, up the long aisle, the procession slowly moved; the pipers playing, and Ninette marching solemnly along, only now and then pausing to thrust her nose between the Père Michaud and his companion, who walked directly in front of her. Ninette pattered on as if she had trod the floors of churches all her life; and as for Beppo, only once did he stir, and then he gave a faint “Baa!” and tried to uncurl himself and stand up; but just then the queer little cart gave a joggle which quite upset his shaky lamb legs, and down he sank, and kept quiet throughout the rest of the time.
When the procession reached the altar the musicians stopped playing, and the first two shepherds, kneeling, presented the pigeons and the basket of fruit; and then the little cart was wheeled up so as to bring Beppo directly in front of all, and the whole company knelt as the priest blessed the offerings.
After this beautiful ceremony which ended the service, the players again struck up King René’s tune, and the procession, shepherds, Ninette, Beppo, peasants, and all, once more moved on, this time down the outer aisle and toward the great open portal.
It took some time for the last of its followers to reach the doorway, for the throng was very great; but at length Félix, who had marched with the children in the last group, came to the threshold and stepped out into the starry night.
He stood for a moment smiling and gazing aimlessly ahead, overwhelmed with the glory of all that had passed within the church. Presently he felt some one pluck his sleeve, and turning round, he met the dancing eyes of the little Lady Elinor.
She gave a little peal of laughter at his surprise, and exclaimed: “Oh, I coaxed mon père, the count, to fetch me hither for this blessed night. Thou knowest he promised! I rode my white palfrey all the way by the side of his big brown horse. And I have seen the procession, and Beppo with my red ribbon round his neck.” Here she gave another little gurgle of delight.
“And oh, Félix, my father hath seen thine, and ’tis all settled! Thou art to be a famous carver with the Père Videau, as thou wishest,”—for the Lady Elinor had unbounded faith in Félix’s powers, “and, Félix,” she added, “I trow ’twas the little Christ Child for thy crèche that did it!”
Then, with a merry smile, she darted off to her father, the Count Bernard, who was waiting for her down the church path.
For a little while after she had gone Félix did not move, but stood as one in a dream. Elinor’s sweet words, ringing in his ears, mingled with the glad songs the peasants were again singing on their homeward way, till altogether he did not quite know whether he was awake or asleep, but only felt an indistinct notion that some wonderful fairy, who had the face of a little maid he knew, had whispered in his ear something that was to make him happy forever.