She in her isolated life, like that of a cloistered nun--she had never
even heard the free gossip of the neighbours, or the oath of a carman as
he whips his horses. The only music that had ever entered her ears was
that of the sacred hymns, the rumblings of the organs, the confused
murmurings of prayers, with which at times vibrated all this fresh
little house, so close to the side of the great church.
The Abbe, after having dried the ears with cotton, put that bit also
into one of the white cornets.
Monseigneur now passed to the nostrils, the right and then the left,
like two petals of a white rose, which he purified by touching them with
the sacred oil and making on them the sign of the cross.
"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam,
indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per odoratum deliquisti_."
And the sense of smell returned to its primitive innocence, cleansed
from all stain: not only from the carnal disgrace of perfumes, from
the seduction of flowers with breath too sweet, from the scattered
fragrances of the air which put the soul to sleep; but yet again from
the faults of the interior sense, the bad examples given to others, and
the contagious pestilence of scandal.
Pages:
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358