on, who held their breath, for fear of losing a single movement of bride or bridegroom, and who replied absent-mindedly to the jokes or idle remarks of the men, often not even hearing them,
"Why is she so troubled? Are they marrying her against her will?"
"Against her will? to such a handsome man? Is he a prince?"
"Is that her sister in white satin? There! Just hear the deacon howl, 'Let her fear her husband'!"
"Are the singers from Chudof?"[1]
"No; from the synod."
"I have asked the servant about it. He says that her husband is going to take her away to his estate. Awfully rich, they say. That is why she is marrying him."
"They make a handsome pair."
"And you pretend to say, Marya Vasilievna, that they don't wear crinolines[2] any longer. Just look at that one in a puce-colored dress! You would say she was an ambassador's wife by the way she is dressed. Do you see now?"
"What a sweet little creature the bride is!—like a lamb for the slaughter. You may say what you please, I can't help pitying her."
Such were the remarks of the spectators who had succeeded in getting past the door of the church.
CHAPTER VI
As the service of espousal was coming to an end, one of the officiating priests spread a piece of rose-colored silk in front of the lectern, in the center of the church, the choir chanted an artistic and complicated psalm, in which the tenor and bass sang responsively, and the priest, turning to the young couple, attracted their attention to the piece of rose-colored fabric.
