morning a flood of spring rays seemed
living with the sonorous peals which had called together all the
inhabitants of the place. The whole of Beaumont was in a state of
rejoicing on account of the marriage of this little embroiderer, to whom
their hearts were so deeply attached, and they were touched by the fact
of her royal good fortune. This bright sunlight, which penetrated all
the streets, was like the golden rain, the gifts of fairy-tales, rolling
out from her delicate hands. Under this joyful light, the multitude
crowded in masses towards the Cathedral, filling the side-aisles of the
church, and coming out on to the Place du Cloitre. There the great front
of the building rose up, like a huge bouquet of stone, in full blossom,
of the most ornamental Gothic, above the severe Romanesque of the
foundation. In the tower the bells still rung, and the whole facade
seemed to be like a glorification of these nuptials, expressive of the
flight of this poor girl through all the wonders of the miracle, as
it darted up and flamed, with its open lace-work ornamentations, the
lily-like efflorescence of its little columns, its balustrades, and its
arches, the niches of saints surmounted with canopies, the gable ends
hollowed out in trefoil points, adorned with crossettes and flowers,
immense rose-windows opening out in the mystic radiation of their
mullions.

At ten o'clock the organs pealed. Angelique and Felicien were
there, walking with slow steps towards the high altar, between the
closely-pressed ranks of the crowd. A breath of sincere, touching
admiration came from every side. He, deeply moved, passed along proud
and serious, with his blonde beauty of a young god appearing slighter
than ever from his closely-fitting black dress-coat. But she, above all,
struck the hearts of the spectators, so exquisite was she, so divinely
beautiful with a mystic, spiritual charm. Her dress was of white watered
silk, simply covered with rare old Mechlin lace, which was held by
pearls, a whole setting of them designing the ruches of the waist and
the ruffles of the skirt. A veil of old English point was fastened to
her head by a triple crown of pearls, and falling to her feet, quite
covered her. That was all--not a flower, not a jewel, nothing but this
slight vision, this delicate, trembling cloud, which seemed to have
placed her sweet little face between two white wings, like that of the
Virgin of the painted glass window, with her violet e