With its flutes of gold and flutes of ebony,
religious joy, faith welling up like a fountain of souls
For whom the very darkness is clear,…
and great sweet sorrow, giving comfort and smiling,
With her austere face from which there shines A clearness beyond nature,…
and
Death serene with her great, soft eyes.
A symphony of harmonious and pure voices. Not one of them had the full sonorousness of such national trumpets as were Corneille and Hugo: but how much deeper and more subtle in expression was their music! The richest music in Europe of to-day.
Olivier said to Christophe, who was silent:
"Do you understand now?"