ist--silent
and motionless--at the holy ceremony. I looked, alternately in fear and
wonder, at those terrible warriors with their swords always raised, those
beautiful huntresses shooting the arrow which never left the bow, and
those shepherds in satin breeches always playing the flute at the feet of
the perpetually smiling shepherdess. Sometimes, when the wind blew behind
these hanging pictures, it seemed to me that the figures themselves
moved, and I watched to see them detach themselves from the wall, and
take their places in the procession! But these impressions were vague and
transitory. The feeling that predominated over every other was that of an
overflowing yet quiet joy. In the midst of all the floating draperies,
the scattered flowers, the voices of the maidens, and the gladness which,
like a perfume, exhaled from everything, you felt transported in spite of
yourself. The joyful sounds of the festival were repeated in your heart,
in a thousand melodious echoes. You were more indulgent, more holy, more
loving! For God was not only manifesting himself without, but also within
us.

And then the altars for the occasion! the flowery arbors! the triumphal
arches made of green boughs! What competition among the different
parishes for the erection of the resting-places where the procession was
to halt! It was who should contribute the rarest and the most beautiful
of his possessions!

It was there I made my first sacrifice!

The wreaths of flowers were arranged, the candles lighted, and the
Tabernacle dressed with roses; but one was wanting fit to crown the
whole! All the neighboring gardens had been ransacked. I alone possessed
a flower worthy of such a place. It was on the rose-tree given me by my
mother on my birthday. I had watched it for several months, and there was
no other bud to blow on the tree. There it was, half open, in its mossy
nest, the object of such long expectations, and of all a child's pride! I
hesitated for some moments. No one had asked me for it; I might easily
avoid losing it. I should hear no reproaches, but one rose noiselessly
within me. When every one else had given all they had, ought I alone to
keep back my treasure? Ought I to grudge to God one of the gifts which,
like all the rest, I had received from him? At this last thought I
plucked the flower from the stem, and took it to put at the top of the
Tabernacle. Ah! why does the recollection of this sacrifice, which was so
hard and ye