第30章

wailed Raoul from the organ loft;

O—RA PRO NO-O-BIS!

And it did not occur to emil that any one had ever reasoned thus before, that music had ever before given a man this equivocal revelation.

The confirmation service followed the Mass. When it was over, the congregation thronged about the newly confirmed. The girls, and even the boys, were kissed and embraced and wept over. All the aunts and grandmothers wept with joy. The housewives had much ado to tear themselves away from the general rejoicing and hurry back to their kitchens. The country parishioners were staying in town for dinner,and nearly every house in Sainte-Agnes entertained visitors that day. father duchesne, the bishop, and the visiting priests dined with fabien Sauvage, the banker.emil and frank Shabata were both guests of old Moise Marcel. After dinner frank and old Moise retired to the rear room of the saloon to play California Jack and drink their cognac, and emil went over to the banker's with Raoul, who had been asked to sing for the bishop.

At three o'clock, emil felt that he could stand it no longer. He slipped out under cover of "The Holy City,"followed by Malvina's wistful eye, and went to the stable for his mare. He was at that height of excitement from which everything is foreshortened, from which life seems short and simple, death very near, and the soul seems to soar like an eagle. As he rode past the graveyard he looked at the brown hole in the earth where Amedee was to lie, and felt no horror. That, too,was beautiful, that simple doorway into forgetfulness.The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for that brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death. It is the old and the poor and the maimed who shrink from that brown hole; its wooers are found among the young,the passionate, the gallant-hearted. It was not until he had passed the graveyard that emil realized where he was going. It was the hour for saying good-bye.It might be the last time that he would see her alone,and today he could leave her without rancor, without bitterness.

everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of the smell of the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an oven. The breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed him like pleasant things in a dream. He could feel nothing but the sense of diminishing distance. It seemed to him that his mare was flying, or running on wheels, like a railway train.The sunlight, flashing on the window-glass of the big red barns, drove him wild with joy. He was like an arrow shot from the bow. His life poured itself out along the road before him as he rode to the Shabata farm.

When emil alighted at the Shabatas' gate, his horse was in a lather. He tied her in the stable and hurried to the house. It was empty. She might be at Mrs. Hiller's or with Alexandra. But anything that reminded him of her would be enough, the orchard, the mulberry tree… When he reached the orchard the sun was hanging low over the wheatfield. Long fingers of ligh reached through the apple branches as through a net;the orchard was riddled and shot with gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely interferences that reflected and refracted light. emil went softly down between the cherry trees toward the wheatfield. When he came to the corner, he stopped short and put his hand over his mouth. Marie was lying on her side under the white mulberry tree, her face half hidden in the grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply where they had happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new life of perfect love, and it had left her like this. Her breast rose and fell faintly, as if she were asleep. emil threw himself down beside her and took her in his arms. The blood came back to her cheeks, her amber eyes opened slowly, and in them emil saw his own face and the orchard and the sun. "I was dreaming this," she whispered, hiding her face against him, "don't take my dream away!"