The maiden begged the
bridegroom to take his seat at the banquet; the Master, descending from
his Throne, placed his arm in his, and led him to the place of honor, at
his side. The great bell again tolled the hour. The guests also took
their places at the feast.
Directly in front of the young man stood the column of black marble
bearing the urn containing the ashes of his Mother. And whenever he saw
her holy name, his long lashes veiled his sinking eyes; but his bride
constantly recalled his attention to the blue flames of the crypt.
More and more madly, fiercely, fearfully, his reeling and wretched soul
struggled to regain its ancient faith, to return to its early hopes; but
temptation was around him; his brain was bewildered; his understanding
darkened; and madness within.
Healths poisonous to his heart went round, and he was forced to drain
them in honor of the Master. An inward shivering disjointed his members,
unstrung his nerves, heart and frame fainted into weakness, a dew cold
as death covered his temples, and his head fell wearily upon his
breast--the walls, the floors, the ceilings, the men, the burning urns,
danced, reeled, and tottered in wild confusion before him. The murmuring
voices, the buzz of sound, the swell of the triumphant music, the
strange words of the foreign bride, mingled and boomed like the roar of
the sea in the ears of the swooning man--and so the last hours passed
away!
He still lived, if life be measured by the wild throbs of the heart.
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