eamed
like fiery comets; and around all there seemed to be a rain of luminous
flowers amidst waving lacework--beds, bouquets, and garlands of roses,
from whose expanding petals dropped showers of stars.

Never had Abbe Mouret desired such magnificence for his poor church. He
smiled, and dreamt of how he might retain all that splendour there, and
then arrange it most effectively. He would have preferred to see the
curtains of cloth-of-gold hung rather higher; the vases, too, needed
more careful arrangement; and he thought that the bouquets of flowers
might be tied up more neatly, and the garlands be more regularly shaped.
Yet how wondrously magnificent it all was! He was the pontiff of a
church of gold. Bishops, princes, princesses, arrayed in royal mantles,
multitudes of believers, bending to the ground, were coming to visit it,
encamping in the valley, waiting for weeks at the door until they should
be able to enter. They kissed his feet, for even his feet had turned
to gold, and worked miracles. The bath of gold mounted to his knees.
A golden heart was beating within his golden breast, with so clear a
musical pulsation that the waiting crowds could hear it from outside.
Then a feeling of overweening pride seized upon him. He was an idol.
The golden beam mounted still higher, the high altar was all ablaze
with glory, and the priest grew certain that the Divine grace must be
returning to him, such was his inward satisfaction. The fierce snarl
behind him had now grown gentle and coaxing, and he only felt on his
shoulder a soft velvety pressure, as though some giant cat were lightly
caressing him.

He still pursued his reverie. Never before had he seen things under such
a favourable light. Everything seemed quite easy to him now that he once
more felt full of strength. Since Albine was waiting for him, he would
go and join her. It was only natural. On the previous morning he had
married Fortune and Rosalie. The Church did not forbid marriages. He saw
that young couple again as they knelt before him, smiling and nudging
each other while his hands were held over them in benediction. Then, in
the evening, they had shown him their room. Each word that he had spoken
to them echoed loudly in his ear. He had told Fortune that God had sent
him a companion, because He did not wish man to live alone; and he had
told Rosalie that she must cleave to her husband, never leaving him,
but always acting as his obedient helpmate. But he h