iousness of conception lacking in the
old Greek. Within the coffin lay an object of a fresh and brilliant
clearness among the ashes of the dead--a flask of lively green glass,
like a great emerald. It might have been "the wondrous vessel of the
Grail." Only, this object seemed to bring back no ineffable purity,
but rather the riotous and earthy heat of old paganism itself. Coated
within, and, as some were persuaded, still redolent with the tawny
sediment of the Roman wine it had held so long ago, it was set aside
for use at the supper which was shortly to celebrate the completion of
the masons' work.

[57] Amid much talk of the great age of gold, and some random
expressions of hope that it might return again, fine old wine of
Auxerre was sipped in small glasses from the precious flask as supper
ended. And, whether or not the opening of the buried vessel had
anything to do with it, from that time a sort of golden age seemed
indeed to be reigning there for a while, and the triumphant completion
of the great church was contemporary with a series of remarkable wine
seasons. The vintage of those years was long remembered. Fine and
abundant wine was to be found stored up even in poor men's cottages;
while a new beauty, a gaiety, was abroad, as all the conjoint arts
branched out exuberantly in a reign of quiet, delighted labour, at the
prompting, as it seemed, of the singular being who came suddenly and
oddly to Auxerre to be the centre of so pleasant a period, though in
truth he made but a sad ending.

A peculiar usage long perpetuated itself at Auxerre. On Easter Day the
canons, in the very centre of the great church, played solemnly at
ball. Vespers being sung, instead of conducting the bishop to his
palace, they proceeded in order into the nave, the people standing in
two long rows to watch. Girding up their skirts a little way, the
whole body of clerics awaited their turn in silence, while the captain
of the singing-boys cast the ball into the air, as [58] high as he
might, along the vaulted roof of the central aisle to be caught by any
boy who could, and tossed again with hand or foot till it passed on to
the portly chanters, the chaplains, the canons themselves, who finally
played out the game with all the decorum of an ecclesiastical ceremony.
It was just then, just as the canons took the ball to themselves so
gravely, that Denys--Denys l'Auxerrois, as he was afterwards
called--appeared for the first time.