pews are filled with the most loving young couples in the country. They carry flowers in their hands, the young girls white roses, the young men, red. They are all looking towards the entrance-door, where twelve kind old clergymen in black velvet surplices are standing, six on either side. The organist is beginning to play, and the organ-tones roll under the high arches of the church. All the young men and maidens are standing up.
The heavy oak door is thrown open and a dazzling light fills the opening; Marie stands there in white bridal robe, with the long veil-like foam falling round her. A blushing woman with downcast eyes. A heavenly peace, a serene joy shines out from her.
An admiring whisper runs through the church, the bishop at the altar turns round and puts on his spectacles, and seeing how lovely Marie is, he hurries forward, bows to her and leads her to the altar.
The young men and maidens scatter roses before her, roses white and red. As she passes along some of the roses catch in the veil, and Marie smiles when she sees her flower-sprinkled dress.
But the old organist has stopped playing, he is leaning over the railing to catch a glimpse of Marie, and through all the peep-holes in the arches, angel faces are looking on.…
In the words of the Old and of the New Testament, Marie is given into my hands; I lead her out followed by the bishop, the twelve clergymen,
