The candles had grown paler,
and the noises of the street were drowned in the music of the organs.
With a slow step, between the double hedge of the worshippers, Angelique
and Felicien turned towards the entrance-door. After the triumphant
carrying out of her dream, she was now about to enter into the reality
of life. This porch of broad sunlight opened into the world of which
as yet she was entirely ignorant. She retarded her steps as she looked
earnestly at the rows of houses, at the tumultuous crowd, at all which
greeted and acclaimed her. Her weakness was so intense that her husband
was obliged to almost carry her. However, she was still able to look
pleased, as she thought of the princely house, filled with jewels and
with queenly toilettes, where the nuptial chamber awaited her, all
decorated with white silk and lace. Almost suffocated, she was obliged
to stop when halfway down the aisle; then she had sufficient strength
to take a few steps more. She glanced at her wedding ring, so recently
placed upon her finger, and smiled at this sign of eternal union. Then,
on the threshold of the great door, at the top of the steps which went
down into the Place du Cloitre, she tottered. Had she not really arrived
at the summit of her happiness? Was not it there that the joy of her
life, being perfected, was to end? With a last effort she raised herself
as much as possible, that she might put her lips upon the lips of
Felicien.
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