It was the sequel [76] to that
earlier stage-play of the Return from the East in which Denys had
been the central figure. The old forgotten player saw his part
before him, and, as if mechanically, fell again into the chief place,
monk's dress and all. It might restore his popularity: who could
tell? Hastily he donned the ashen-grey mantle, the rough haircloth
about the throat, and went through the preliminary matter. And it
happened that a point of the haircloth scratched his lip deeply, with
a long trickling of blood upon the chin. It was as if the sight of
blood transported the spectators with a kind of mad rage, and
suddenly revealed to them the truth. The pretended hunting of the
unholy creature became a real one, which brought out, in rapid
increase, men's evil passions. The soul of Denys was already at
rest, as his body, now borne along in front of the crowd, was tossed
hither and thither, torn at last limb from limb. The men stuck
little shreds of his flesh, or, failing that, of his torn raiment,
into their caps; the women lending their long hairpins for the
purpose. The monk Hermes sought in vain next day for any remains of
the body of his friend. Only, at nightfall, the heart of Denys was
brought to him by a stranger, still entire. It must long since have
mouldered into dust under the stone, marked with a cross, where he
buried it in a dark corner of the cathedral aisle.
So the figure in the stained glass explained [77] itself.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81