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THE ELIXIR OF LIFE by HONORE DE BALZAC

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Author Topic: THE ELIXIR OF LIFE by HONORE DE BALZAC  (Read 203 times)
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« Reply #30 on: October 19, 2009, 12:56:44 am »

An old servitor cried, "A miracle! a miracle!" and all the
Spaniards echoed, "A miracle! a miracle!"

Dona Elvira, too pious to attribute this to magic, sent for the
Abbot of San-Lucar; and the Prior beholding the miracle with his
own eyes, being a clever man, and withal an Abbot desirous of
augmenting his revenues, determined to turn the occasion to
profit. He immediately gave out that Don Juan would certainly be
canonized; he appointed a day for the celebration of the
apotheosis in his convent, which thenceforward, he said, should
be called the convent of San Juan of Lucar. At these words a
sufficiently facetious grimace passed over the features of the
late Duke.
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« Reply #31 on: October 19, 2009, 12:56:57 am »

The taste of the Spanish people for ecclesiastical solemnities is
so well known, that it should not be difficult to imagine the
religious pantomime by which the Convent of San-Lucar celebrated
the translation of the blessed Don Juan Belvidero to the abbey-
church. The tale of the partial resurrection had spread so
quickly from village to village, that a day or two after the
death of the illustrious nobleman the report had reached every
place within fifty miles of San-Lucar, and it was as good as a
play to see the roads covered already with crowds flocking in on
all sides, their curiosity whetted still further by the prospect
of a Te Deum sung by torchlight. The old abbey church of San-
Lucar, a marvelous building erected by the Moors, a mosque of
Allah, which for three centuries had heard the name of Christ,
could not hold the throng that poured in to see the ceremony.
Hidalgos in their velvet mantles, with their good swords at their
sides, swarmed like ants, and were so tightly packed in among the
pillars that they had not room to bend the knees, which never
bent save to God. Charming peasant girls, in the basquina that
defines the luxuriant outlines of their figures, lent an arm to
white-haired old men. Young men, with eyes of fire, walked beside
aged crones in holiday array. Then came couples tremulous with
joy, young lovers led thither by curiosity, newly-wedded folk;
children timidly clasping each other by the hand. This throng, so
rich in coloring, in vivid contrasts, laden with flowers,
enameled like a meadow, sent up a soft murmur through the quiet
night. Then the great doors of the church opened.
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« Reply #32 on: October 19, 2009, 12:57:15 am »

Late comers who remained without saw afar, through the three
great open doorways, a scene of which the theatrical illusions of
modern opera can give but a faint idea. The vast church was
lighted up by thousands of candles, offered by saints and sinners
alike eager to win the favor of this new candidate for
canonization, and these self-commending illuminations turned the
great building into an enchanted fairyland. The black archways,
the shafts and capitals, the recessed chapels with gold and
silver gleaming in their depths, the galleries, the Arab
traceries, all the most delicate outlines of that delicate
sculpture, burned in the excess of light like the fantastic
figures in the red heart of a brazier. At the further end of the
church, above that blazing sea, rose the high altar like a
splendid dawn. All the glories of the golden lamps and silver
candlesticks, of banners and tassels, of the shrines of the
saints and votive offerings, paled before the gorgeous brightness
of the reliquary in which Don Juan lay. The blasphemer's body
sparkled with gems, and flowers, and crystal, with diamonds and
gold, and plumes white as the wings of seraphim; they had set it
up on the altar, where the pictures of Christ had stood. All
about him blazed a host of tall candles; the air quivered in the
radiant light. The worthy Abbot of San-Lucar, in pontifical
robes, with his mitre set with precious stones, his rochet and
golden crosier, sat enthroned in imperial state among his clergy
in the choir. Rows of impassive aged faces, silver-haired old men
clad in fine linen albs, were grouped about him, as the saints
who confessed Christ on earth are set by painters, each in his
place, about the throne of God in heaven. The precentor and the
dignitaries of the chapter, adorned with the gorgeous insignia of
ecclesiastical vanity, came and went through the clouds of
incense, like stars upon their courses in the firmament.
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« Reply #33 on: October 19, 2009, 12:57:27 am »

When the hour of triumph arrived, the bells awoke the echoes far
and wide, and the whole vast crowd raised to God the first cry of
praise that begins the Te Deum. A sublime cry! High, pure notes,
the voices of women in ecstasy, mingled in it with the sterner
and deeper voices of men; thousands of voices sent up a volume of
sound so mighty, that the straining, groaning organ-pipes could
not dominate that harmony. But the shrill sound of children's
singing among the choristers, the reverberation of deep bass
notes, awakened gracious associations, visions of childhood, and
of man in his strength, and rose above that entrancing harmony of
human voices blended in one sentiment of love.

Te Deum laudamus!
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« Reply #34 on: October 19, 2009, 12:57:38 am »

The chant went up from the black masses of men and women kneeling
in the cathedral, like a sudden breaking out of light in
darkness, and the silence was shattered as by a peal of thunder.
The voices floated up with the clouds of incense that had begun
to cast thin bluish veils over the fanciful marvels of the
architecture, and the aisles were filled with splendor and
perfume and light and melody. Even at the moment when that music
of love and thanksgiving soared up to the altar, Don Juan, too
well bred not to express his acknowledgments, too witty not to
understand how to take a jest, bridled up in his reliquary, and
responded with an appalling burst of laughter. Then the Devil
having put him in mind of the risk he was running of being taken
for an ordinary man, a saint, a Boniface, a Pantaleone, he
interrupted the melody of love by a yell, the thousand voices of
hell joined in it. Earth blessed, Heaven banned. The church was
shaken to its ancient foundations.

Te Deum laudamus! cried the many voices.

"Go to the devil, brute beasts that you are! Dios! Dios! Garajos
demonios! Idiots! What fools you are with your dotard God!" and a
torrent of imprecations poured forth like a stream of red-hot
lava from the mouth of Vesuvius.
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« Reply #35 on: October 19, 2009, 12:57:51 am »

"Deus Sabaoth! . . . Sabaoth!" cried the believers.

"You are insulting the majesty of Hell," shouted Don Juan,
gnashing his teeth. In another moment the living arm struggled
out of the reliquary, and was brandished over the assembly in
mockery and despair.

"The saint is blessing us," cried the old women, children,
lovers, and the credulous among the crowd.

And note how often we are deceived in the homage we pay; the
great man scoffs at those who praise him, and pays compliments
now and again to those whom he laughs at in the depths of his
heart.

Just as the Abbot, prostrate before the altar, was chanting
"Sancte Johannes, ora pro noblis!" he heard a voice exclaim
sufficiently distinctly: "O coglione!"

"What can be going on up there?" cried the Sub-prior, as he saw
the reliquary move.
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« Reply #36 on: October 19, 2009, 12:58:14 am »

"The saint is playing the devil," replied the Abbot.

Even as he spoke the living head tore itself away from the
lifeless body, and dropped upon the sallow cranium of the
officiating priest.

"Remember Dona Elvira!" cried the thing, with its teeth set fast
in the Abbot's head.

The Abbot's horror-stricken shriek disturbed the ceremony; all
the ecclesiastics hurried up and crowded about their chief.

"Idiot, tell us now if there is a God!" the voice cried, as the
Abbot, bitten through the brain, drew his last breath.

http://www.classichorrorstories.com/texts/elixir.txt
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