 | THE FOURTH PICTURE. Adrian, the neophyte |  |
THE JOY OF THE SUNSHINE.
“'Tis the sweet hour of morning
cathedral, yet 'tis all alive with life and joy!
“The light of the sunbeams streaming through
the stained panes of the lofty windows, and flinging
images of garish splendor along the aisles, and over
the altars of this solemn temple—the joy of the
sunshine dancing amid the sculptured flowers of
the lofty columns, and gleaming gaily and merrily
from the Mosaic pavement to the fretted roof, while
the massive shadows of altar and column, flung
heavily along the tessellated stone, served only to
render the glow of the morning sun more bright
and glaring.
“Silence rests upon the place and hour—yet
how soon will the place and hour be noisy with
the hum of human voices! 'Tis the last day of the
carnival, and while mirth and riot mingle their
voices in the streets without, a solemn scene shall
render even yet more holy the hallowed silence of
God's own temple.
“One month since, by yonder postern door, I
gave my son Adrian his first view of the world—
he went forth on his strange pilgrimage. Last
night he returned from his scene of trial. No word,
save the word of blessing, passed from me ere he
sought his cell, yet methought trouble was written
upon his young brow. May the Holy One nerve
him for his hour of trial!”
And devoutly crossing himself, the aged Abbot
glanced around the silent aisles of the cathedral.
He stood in the centre of the chapel, with the light
from the dome far above gilding his grey hairs, and
brightening the glow of the cross reposing amid
the folds of his sacerdotal robes.
In the full blaze of the morning sun, in the eastern
nave of the cathedral, in front of the high altar
of the temple, arose a stage, covered with folds of
snow-white velvet, gay with flowers of gold, and
drooping in sweeping circles down to the marble
floor. From the centre of this stage arose an altar
of silver, gaudy with mouldings and ornaments,
bearing a cross of gold on its surface, intermingled
with a simple wreath of flowers—the rose entwined
with the laurel. The flower of Ellarini mingling
its perfume with the unfading glory of Capello.
At the farther end of the cathedral, in the centre
of its western nave, in front of a high altar surmounted
by a grisly skeleton, side by side with a
massive cross, arose another stage, covered with
folds of solemn black. An altar of iron arose from
the darkness of this stage, with a death's-head grinning
beside a rugged cross, formed of like metal
with the altar.
It arose like a shadow of gloom, that altar of
black, confronting the altar of white, at the farther
end of the church, with its solid and massive form
of dread, like death frowning in the face of life,
and the altar of white, with its flowers of gold,
seemed laughing to scorn the face of death.
A merry chime of bells came floating along the
silent air.
“The merry marriage bells!” exclaimed the
Abbot. “They hail the union of the laurel of Capello
with the rose of Ellarini!”
The solemn toll of the death-bell burst like a
thunder-clap over the cathedral.
“Toll—toll—toll! 'Tis the knell which consigns
the youth Adrian to the solitude of the living-death!”
| THE FOURTH PICTURE. Adrian, the neophyte | |