The grass exhaled an odour of summer; flies buzzed in the air, the sun
shone on the river and warmed the slated roof. Old Mother Simon had
returned to Felicite and was peacefully falling asleep.
The ringing of bells woke her; the people were coming out of church.
Felicite’s delirium subsided. By thinking of the procession, she was
able to see it as if she had taken part in it. All the school-children,
the singers and the firemen walked on the sidewalks, while in the middle
of the street came first the custodian of the church with his halberd,
then the beadle with a large cross, the teacher in charge of the boys
and a sister escorting the little girls; three of the smallest ones,
with curly heads, threw rose leaves into the air; the deacon with
outstretched arms conducted the music; and two incense-bearers turned
with each step they took toward the Holy Sacrament, which was carried by
M. le Cure, attired in his handsome chasuble and walking under a canopy
of red velvet supported by four men. A crowd of people followed, jammed
between the walls of the houses hung with white sheets; at last the
procession arrived at the foot of the hill.
A cold sweat broke out on Felicite’s forehead. Mother Simon wiped it
away with a cloth, saying inwardly that some day she would have to go
through the same thing herself.
The murmur of the crowd grew louder, was very distinct for a moment and
then died away. A volley of musketry shook the window-panes. It was the
postilions saluting the Sacrament. Felicite rolled her eyes, and said as
loudly as she could:
“Is he all right?” meaning the parrot.
Her death agony began. A rattle that grew more and more rapid shook her
body. Froth appeared at the corners of her mouth, and her whole frame
trembled. In a little while could be heard the music of the bass
horns, the clear voices of the children and the men’s deeper notes. At
intervals all was still, and their shoes sounded like a herd of cattle
passing over the grass.
The clergy appeared in the yard. Mother Simon climbed on a chair to
reach the bull’s-eye, and in this manner could see the altar. It was
covered with a lace cloth and draped with green wreaths. In the middle
stood a little frame containing relics; at the corners were two little
orange-trees, and all along the edge were silver candlesticks, porcelain
vases containing sun-flowers, lilies, peonies, and tufts of hydrangeas.
This mount of bright colours descended diagonally from the first floor
to the carpet that covered the sidewalk. Rare objects arrested one’s
eye. A golden sugar-bowl was crowned with violets, earrings set with
Alencon stones were displayed on green moss, and two Chinese screens
with their bright landscapes were near by. Loulou, hidden beneath
roses, showed nothing but his blue head which looked like a piece of
lapis-lazuli.
The singers, the canopy-bearers and the children lined up against the
sides of the yard. Slowly the priest ascended the steps and placed his
shining sun on the lace cloth. Everybody knelt. There was deep silence;
and the censers slipping on their chains were swung high in the air. A
blue vapour rose in Felicite’s room. She opened her nostrils and inhaled
with a mystic sensuousness; then she closed her lids. Her lips smiled.
The beats of her heart grew fainter and fainter, and vaguer, like a
fountain giving out, like an echo dying away;--and when she exhaled her
last breath, she thought she saw in the half-opened heavens a gigantic
parrot hovering above her head.