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〃There； there； you are a handsome fine one。 They always sacrifice those such as you right away。 You're too strong； too fine of limb and face。 Look at you； and the Lady Ursula dreaming of you and weeping for you。 They took her away。〃
〃Ah； but I was dreaming too。。。〃 I said。 Was I talking to this monstrous attendant as though he and I were friends？ Where was the great magnificent web of my dreams； the immense and luminous majesty？
〃You can talk to me； why not？〃 he said。 〃You will die in rapture； my pretty young Lord；〃 he said。 〃And you'll see the church all alight； and the Mass； you'll be the sacrifice。〃
〃No； I dreamed of the meadow；〃 I said。 〃I saw something in the meadow。 No； it wasn't Ursula。〃 I was talking to myself； to my own sick bedeviled mind； talking to my wits to make them listen。 〃I saw someone in the meadow； someone so。。。 I can't。。。〃
〃You make things so painful for yourself；〃 said the demon soothingly。 〃Here； I have all your buttons and buckles right。 What a fine Lord you must have been。〃
Must have been； must have been； must have been。。。 〃You hear that？〃 he asked。
〃I hear nothing。〃
〃It's the clock； striking the third quarter of the hour。 It's almost time for the Mass。 Don't pay attention to the noise。 It's the others who'll be sacrificed。 Don't let it unnerve you。 Just so much mon weeping。〃
8
REQUIEM； OR THE HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS AS I HAD NEVER SEEN IT
HAD ever a chapel been more beautiful？ Had ever white marble been used to such an advantage； and from which a fount of eternal gold had e these glorious curlicues and serpentine adornments； these high…pointed windows； illuminated from without by fierce fires that brought into the perfection of jewels their tiny thick facets of tinted glass to form their solemn narrow and seemingly sacred pictures？ But they were not sacred pictures。
I stood in the choir loft； high above the vestibule； looking down over the great nave and at the altar at the far end。 Once again I was flanked by ominous and regal Lords； who seemed now to be absolutely fervent in their duty as they held me firm and standing by the arms。
My mind had cleared； but only somewhat。 The wet cloth was once again pressed to my eyes and forehead。 The water was as if from a mountain stream of flowing melted snow。 In my sickness； in my fever； I saw everything。
I saw the demons fashioned in the glittering windows； as artfully put together of red and gold and blue glass as any angels or saints。 I saw their leering faces as they peered down； these monsters with their webbed wings and clawlike hands； upon the congregation。
Below； allowing a broad central aisle； was gathered in its ruby dark finery the great Court on either side； standing to face the long heavily carved and broad munion Rail and the high altar behind it。
Paintings covered the cove behind the altar。 Demons dancing in Hell； graceful among the flames as though they bathed in a wele radiance； and strung above them on loose and unfurling banners the golden letters from St。 Augustine's words； so familiar to my study； that these flames were not the flames of real fire but only the absence from God； but the word 〃absence〃 had been replaced by the Latin word for 〃freedom。〃
〃Freedom〃 was the word in Latin worked into the high white marble walls； in a frieze that ran beneath the balconies on either side of the church； on the same level as this； my place； in which more of the Court beheld the spectacle。
Light rose to flood the high…groined arches of the roof。 And what was this spectacle？
The high altar was draped in crimson trimmed in gilt fringe； its abundant cloths short enough to reveal the tableau in white carving of figures prancing in Hell； though from this great distance my eyes might have deceived me as to their levity。
What I did see with perfection were the thick candlesticks before not a crucifix but a huge carved stone replica of Lucifer； the fallen angel； long locks aflame； and garments too a torrent of rising fire； frozen in marble； and in his upraised hands the symbols of death … in the right the scythe of the grim reaper … and in the other the sword of the executioner。
I gasped when I beheld the image！ Monstrous； it was positioned precisely where I wanted so to see my Crucified Christ； and yet in a moment of delirium and agitation； I felt my lips curl in a smile； and I heard my own mind tell me cunningly that there was nothing less grotesque about the Crucified God if He Himself had been there。 My guards held me firm。 Had I tottered？
From the assemblage around me and behind me； from those whom I had not even regarded； there came suddenly the muted roll of drums； ominous and slow； mournful and beautiful in their own muffled simplicity。
At once there followed a deep…throated chorus of horns； in lovely weaving song and effortless sweet intermingling； playing not the repetitious chord music of the night before； but a strong plaintive and imploring polyphony of melodies so sad that they flooded my heart with sadness； stroked my heart and made the tears nearly spring to my eyes。 Oh； what is this？ What is this blended and rich 155 music； surrounding me and pouring forth into the nave to echo off the satiny marble and rebound gently and with perfect modulation to the place where I stood； staring； rapt at the distant figure of Lucifer？
At his feet； all flowers laid out in vessels of silver and gold were red； the red of roses and carnations； the red of the iris； the red of wildflowers I could not name； an altar alive and decked and crawling with all those things which were high color； his glorious tint； the one color left to him that might rise from his inevitable and unredeemable darkness。
I heard the dusty； sonorous songs of the reed shawm； the small oboe and the reed dulcian； and other small reed organs played by mouth； and then the more ringing tone of the brass sackbut horn； and perhaps even the light singing of the hammers striking the taut strings of the dulcimer。
This music alone might have engaged me； filled my soul； its threads of melody interweaving； overlapping； harmonizing and then drifting apart。 It left me no breath to speak or eyes for other things。 Yet I beheld the statues of the demons who ran from right to left … so like the Lords and Ladies of the Courtly table of last night … from the imposing figure of their Devil。
Were they blood drinkers all； these terrible gaunt saints of Hell； carved from hardwood with its own reddish mahogany glint； in their stark stylized garments； cleaving to thin bodies； their eyes half…lidded； their mouths open； and against each lower lip two white fangs； as if made from tiny bits of snow…white ivory to mark the purpose of each individual monster。
Oh； Cathedral of horrors。 I tried to turn my head； to close my eyes； and yet the monstrosity of it enthralled me。 Pathetic unformed thoughts never reached my lips。
The horns died around me； and the reedy woodland instruments died away。 Oh； don't go； sweet music。 Don't leave me here。
But what came was a chorus of the sweetest softest tenor voices； they called out the Latin words that I could not follow； an anthem for the dead； an anthem on the mutability of all things； and at once came a full lustrous harmonizing chorus of sopranos male and female； of basses and baritones； singing heartily in splendid polyphony in answer to these lone tenors：
〃I go now to the Lord； for He has allowed these Creatures of Darkness to answer my supplications。。。〃 What nightmarish words were these？
Once again there came the rich thick chorus of many voices to underscore the tenors：
〃The instruments of death await me in their warm and devout kiss； and into their bodies； by the will of God； they shall take my life's blood； my rapture； my soul's ascent through their own； so as better to know both Heaven and Hell in their Dark Service。〃 The reed organ played its solemn song。 Into the Sanctuary of the church； there proceeded now； to the fullest most lustrous strength of the polyphony yet； a stream of priestly figures。
I saw the Lord Florian in a rich red chasuble as if he were the bishop of Florence himself； only this garment bore the Cross of Christ impudently upside down in honor of the Damned One； and on his untonsured head of dark blond hair he wore a gilded jeweled crown as if he were both Prankish monarch and servant of the Dark Lord。
The strong piercing notes of the horns dominated the song。 A march had begun。 The drums rumbled beneath； hushed and steady。
Florian had taken his place before the altar with his face to the congregation； and on one side of him stood the fragile Ursula； her hair full and loose and down on her shoulders； though shrouded like a Mary Magdalene in a scarlet veil which hung to the very edge of the hem of her tapering gown。
Her upturned face was directed to me； and I could see even from this great airy span that her hands； shaped as a steeple； with fingers pressed together； trembled。
On the other side of this high priest Florian stood his bald Elder； in his own chasuble and thick embroidered lace sleeves； another priestly assistant。
Acolytes came from either side； tallish young demons with faces of the usual chiseled ivory； and the simple surplices of t