We were at 1st June.That date so impatiently waited for, it had seemed that it would never come!

There we were at last.A few more hours, and the wedding ceremony would have been carried out in Ragz Cathedral.

The apprehension which might have had been left in our minds by the memory of the inexplicable incidents that had taken place a fortnight ago, had been entirely effaced by our interview with the Governor.

I got up in good time.But early as I was, Marc was still more so, and he was ahead of me.I had not finished dressing when he came in.

He was already attired as a bridegroom.He was radiant with happiness and not a shadow obscured his radiance.He greeted me effusively, and I shook his hand.

‘Myra, 'he began, ‘advised me to remind you……'

‘That it's for today, 'I laughed.‘We'll, you can tell her that I didn't miss the hour for the interview with the Governor and I shan't miss that for the Cathedral.Yesterday I put my watch right by the belfry.But you, my dear Marc, try not to keep them waiting!You know that your presence is indispensable, and that they can’t begin without you!’

He went out, and I hurriedly finished my toilet, although it was scarcely nine in the morning.

We were to meet at Dr.Roderich's.It was there that the vehicles were to start.If it were only to show that I was punctual, I got there earlier than I need—which earned me a charming smile from the bride—and took my place in the drawing-room.

One after another there appeared the persons—let us rather say the personnages, granted the solemnity of the occasion—who had been present at the ceremony in the Palace.All, as then, were in gala dress.The two officers wore their decorations and medals on their splendid fulldress uniforms.

Myra Roderich—but why not say Myra Vidal, as the engaged couple were already bound together by the Governor's decree?—Myra, in white, with a long train of watered silk and with her orange-blossom, was ravishing.At her waist was the bride's bouquet, and on he blond hair rested the nuptial crown, from beneath which flowed her long veil.The crown was the one which my brother had brought back;she would not have any other.

As she entered the drawing-room with her mother, she came towards me and held out her hand.I shook it with fraternal affection.Then, her eyes shining, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, my brother, how happy I am!'

So of those past distresses, those sad trials which this worthy family had undergone, there remained not a trace.It was only Captain Haralan who did not seem to have forgotten them completely, as was shown by his words as he grasped my hand, ‘No, don't let's think about that any more!'

The day's programme had received general approval.At a quarter to ten we would set out for the Cathedral, where the Governor of Ragz, with the authorities and notables of the town, would be waiting for our arrival.Intro-ductions and compliments, followed by the nuptial mass and the signature of the records in the sacristy of St.Michael.Return for lunch, to which about fifty guests would be present.In the evening, a ball for which nearly two hundred invitations had been sent out.

The coaches were occupied as upon the previous day;in the first was the bride, the Doctor, Madame Roderich and M.Neuman;in the second Marc and the three other witnesses.On returning from the Cathedral Marc and Myra Vidal, united forever, would take their place in the same coach.Other vehicles would carry the people who were to form the procession.

At a quarter to ten the vehicles left the house.The weather was splendid, the sun shining, and a crowd was making for the Cathedral.All glances were directed at the leading coach, glances of sympathetic admiration for the young bride, though I had to admit that my dear Marc had his share of them.The windows opened to display smiling faces, and from all quarters came greetings too numerous to be acknowledged.

‘Well, 'I thought out loud, ‘I shall take pleasant memories back from this town!'

‘The Hungarians are honouring in yourself that France which they love, M.Vidal, 'Lieut.Armgard replied, ‘and they're delighted with a wedding which will bring a Frenchman into the Roderich family.'

As we approached the square we had to slow to a walking pace, so difficult was it to move.

From the towers of the Cathedral came the joyful sounds of the bells, borne by the breeze from the east, and just before ten the carillon in the belfry mingled its sharp notes with the sonorous voice of St.Michael.

It was exactly five past ten when our two coaches drew up at the foot of the steps, the central door having been thrown wide open.

Dr.Roderich descended first, then came his daughter, who took his arm.M.Neuman offered his to Madame Roderich.Then we followed behind Marc between the rows of spectators.

At that moment the great organ resounded inside the Cathedral, and it was to the tones of its majestic chords that the procession entered the sacred building.

Marc and Myra advanced towards the two chairs placed side by side before the High Altar.Behind them parents and witnesses took the seats assigned to them.

All the chairs and the choir-stalls were already occupied by a numerous assembly, the Governor of Ragz, the magistrates, the officers of the garrison, the principal members of the administration, the friends of the family, the notabilities of industry and commerce.For the ladies in their brilliant toilets special places had been reserved, and not one had been left empty.

In the side naves of the transept and else-where in the church were assembled the populace, which overflowed on to the steps outside.

If a sprinkling of those present remembered those phenomena which had disturbed the town, could they possibly have imagined that they might be reproduced in the Cathedral?Plainly not, for they had been attributed to de-moniac intervention, and it is not in a church that such an intervention can take place.Doesn't the Devil's power fail at the very threshold of the sanctuary?

A movement began to the right of the choir, and the crowd had to open to make way for the Arch-Priest, the Deacon, the Sub-Deacon, the beadles, and the children of the choir.

The Arch-Priest stopped before the steps of the Altar, bowed, and sang the first phrases of the Introit, while the singers intoned the versets of the Confiteor.

Myra was kneeling on the hassock of her prie-Dieu, her head bowed, in an attitude of devotion.Marc was standing beside her and his eyes never left her.

The Mass was said with all the pomp with which the Catholic Church wishes to surround its most solemn ceremonies.The organ alternated with the plain-song of the Kyrie and the strophes of the Gloria in Excelsis, which resounded under the high vaults.

Occasionally there came the vague sound of the crowd's movements, the clatter of displaced chairs, the steps of the officers of the Church who were ensuring that way was left free down the great nave.

The interior of the Cathedral was normally plunged into a twilight which enabled the soul to deliver itself more freely to religious impressions.Through the ancient stained glass-windows, where were displayed in sumptuous colours the outlines of the Biblical figures, through the narrow ogival windows, there came in only an uncertain light.When the weather was overcast, the great nave and the rest of the building were dark, and the mystical obscurity was broken only by the points of light which shone on the ends of the long altar candles.

Today it was different.Under that magnificent sunlight the windows facing the east and the rose-window of the transept were aglow.A ray of sunlight fell directly on to the pulpit supported by one of the pillars of the nave, and seemed to bring to life the face of the giant who bore it upon his enormous shoulders.

When the bell was heard the congregation rose, and to the noise of their movements there followed a silence while the Deacon chanted the Gospel according to St.Matthew.

Then the Arch-Priest, facing Myra and Marc, addressed them solemnly.He spoke in rather a feeble voice, the voice of an old man crowned with white hair, and what he said was very simple and went straight to Myra's heart.He praised the domestic virtues of her family, its devotion towards the wretched and its inexhaustible charity.He blessed this marriage which would unite a Frenchman to a Hungarian, and he invoked the blessing of Heaven upon their union.

The address ended, the old Priest, while the Deacon and the Sub-deacon took their places at his side, turned towards the altar for the offertory prayers.

If I relate these details of that nuptial mass, it is because they are profoundly engraved upon my spirit, it is because their memory must never pass from my mind.

Then from the altar-loft rose a magnificent voice, accompanied by a quartette of stringed instruments.A tenor, famed throughout the Magyar world, was singing the offertory hymn.

Marc and Myra left their chairs and took their places before the altar steps.And there, after the sub-deacon had received their generous alms, they pressed their lips as though in a kiss, to the paten which was offered to them.Then they went back to their places side by side.Never—no, never—had Myra seemed more radiant with beauty, more enhaloed with happiness!

Then those who were taking the collection for the sick and the poor came to receive their alms.Preceded by the beadle, they came from all parts of the church, amidst the sound of moving chairs, the rustle of dresses, the murmur of the crowd, while the coins fell into the purses held out by the young girls.

At last the Arch-Priest, accompanied by his two assistants, went towards Marc and Myra.He stopped in front of them.

‘Marc Vidal, 'came his tremulous voice which, so complete was the silence, was none the less heard by everybody;‘Do you consent to take Myra Roderich as your wife?'

‘Yes, 'my brother replied.

‘Myra Roderich, do you consent to take Marc Vidal as your husband?'

‘Yes, 'Myra's voice was like a sigh.

Before pronouncing the sacramental words, the Arch-Priest received the wedding-rings which my brother gave him and blessed them.Then he bent forward to place one of them upon the finger of the young bride……

At that moment a cry rang out, a cry of horrified distress.

And this is what I saw, what a thousand others saw as I did:

The Deacon and the Sub-deacon were sent staggering back, as though struck by some powerful force;the Arch-Priest, his mouth trembling, his face anguished and with a look of horror in his eyes, seemed to be struggling with an invisible ghost and at last collapsed on his knees……

Then at once, for the events followed one another with the speed of a thunderbolt and nobody had the time to intervene or even to understand, it was my brother and Myra who were hurled to the ground……

Then it was the rings which flew across the nave, one of them hitting me violently in the face……

And at that moment this is what I heard.A thousand others heard it as I did, these words pronounced in a terrible voice, that voice which we knew so well, the voice of Wilhelm Storitz:‘Woe to the married couple……Woe!'At that curse, which seemed to come from so near-by, a gasp of fright arose from the crowd.It was followed by a terrific clamour and Myra, who had risen to her feet, gave a heart-rending cry and collapsed unconscious into the arms of the terrified Marc.