His lips moved from time to time spasmodically,
in prayer or ejaculation: then as the jubilant organ burst out, and the
officiating priest in his dalmatic of cloth of gold passed from the
sacristy and genuflected at the altar, he seemed to be listening in a very
passion of attention. But as the incense began to fill the air, and the
Litany of Loreto smote on my ear to some sorrowful, undulating Gregorian, I
lost thought of the wretched man beside me; I forgot the miserable mistake
that he had perpetuated, and I was once more back in the past--with
Delphine--kneeling by her side. Strophe by strophe that perfect litany rose
and was lost in a cloud of incense, in the mazy arches of the roof.
'Janua coeli,
Stella matutina,
Salus infirmorum, Ora pro nobis!'
In strophe and antistrophe: the melancholy, nasal intonation of the priest
died away, and the exquisite women's voices in the gallery took it up with
exultation, and yet with something like a sob--a sob of limitation.
'Refugium peccatorum,
Consolatrix afflictorum,
Auxilium Christianorum, Ora pro nobis!'
And so on through all the exquisite changes of the hymn, until the time of
the music changed, and the priest intoned the closing line.
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