We had disturbed his siesta, and his usually even temper was the worse for it. We hastily closed the cupboard. And we knew in that moment all the horror of arbitrary decrees and special laws. The devotion of Mélanie and Stephen was but increased, as always happens in time of persecution, but mine, less lively, or of younger growth, was cooled, I greatly fear.
Not long after it experienced another blow. In our town the Fête-Dieu was celebrated with incomparable pomp and display. People came from afar to take part in it. Where shall we have again such nobly imposing and magnificent spectacles? They have been replaced by gymnastic contests, or processions of mutual aid societies, the bad taste of which is heart-breaking. I pity the children of to-day who have never had opportunity to feel, amid popular acclamations and universal emotion, the imminent presence of God.
The town was divided in rivalry of its wayside altars; each quarter felt its reputation at stake. They were composed of moss and flowers, lilies, hortensias, geraniums and violets arranged in the form of a cross, or ingeniously combined in pious designs of a more complicated nature. All the gardens and groves were ruthlessly despoiled on their account. The finest one was always promoted to the terrace overshadowed by ancient trees that overlooked the lake.
When the morning came every window was watching the daybreak, imploring heaven for favourable weather. The streets were bordered with pines and larches which the peasants, on the previous evening or the one before that, had brought from the mountain in their ox-carts. Wreaths hung upon ribbons were thrown across the street like light cables above a stream, so that one walked about under hundreds of improvised triumphal arches. Here and there, the better to adorn the house fronts, some one had set out a table covered with a white cloth bearing pictures, vases, statuettes with a lamp, and had made ready baskets of roses for the refreshment of the angel battalion. In the poorest alleys the good wives set forth before their houses all their precious possessions, even to daguerreotypes of relatives, or their most artistically decorated caps, the better to honour the passing of the Holy Sacrament. Thus the entire town adorned itself, like a bride for her marriage.
Every one gathered before the church; the confraternities in costume with their banners, the brass band, their well polished instruments shining in the sunlight, the school children, girls and boys, the very smallest of them waving banners and all the population massed behind these official groups, all drawn up in good order. Then, upon the pavement before the church slowly advanced the sacred procession, while all the bells rang together; angels with wings of silver paper strewing the way with flower-petals drawn from little baskets suspended from their necks, clerks and sacristans in red cassocks, swinging censers whence arose blue smoke and a spicy odour, surpliced priests, canons in ermine rochets, and finally, upon a dais the colour of pure gold, or of ripe wheat, its four corners decorated with tufts of white plumes, escorted by four black-coated notables holding its cords, came Monsignor arrayed in a golden chasuble and bearing upon his breast the great golden monstrance.
It was a solemn moment, and yet there was one even more impressive. After having traversed the entire town, the procession would draw up for the last benediction upon the open place that forms a terrace above the lake, upheld by the walls of an ancient fortress. It would be near noon. The rays of the sun, falling directly upon the lake, were mirrored back, brightening all the colours, and flashing out in stars from every fleck of gold. Around the flower-decked altar the various bands were grouped, their standards all unfurled. Around these stood the soldiers in a large circle, the troops taking part for the last time in a religious ceremonial. They closed up, and at the command genou terre! they fell upon one knee, the officers waved their swords, and the clarions sounded loudly over all the fields. Many an old woman wept with joy as she prostrated herself, needing to see nothing more to know that God was there. Yet there was more; a priest, mounting upon a stool, drew the monstrance from its flower-decked niche and handed it to Monsignor, and the august officiant, lifting it high in air, traced above the great congregation the sign of the cross. The tremor with which I was at that moment shaken thrilled through the entire crowd, a great wave of emotion, such as reveals to a whole people that they are one in faith.
When I went home in my school-boy uniform I was still all a-thrill. Mother was waiting for me. She perceived what I had just been experiencing, and I saw tears rush to her eyes as she proudly kissed me. She, sacrificing herself, had not witnessed the ceremony. Some one must take care of the house and prepare for the guests who always came to us on that day. But she had come out and knelt before the door, hidden by the pines, when the procession went by. I had seen her through the branches. For a short moment she had united Mary’s part with that of Martha.
Father presently came home, warm and tired. He had had the honour of being chosen to hold one of the cords of the dais, and though he was bald, he had remained bareheaded, at the risk of a sunstroke.
“Dear wife!” he said simply, pressing mother to his heart. He had never given expression to his love for her before me, and that is why I remember this. He too was stirred with high enthusiasm.
Then came grandfather, smiling, spruce, his frock coat buttoned awry and his black hat a little on one side, but except for these minor matters dressed with almost irreproachable care.