The Maidens of Walsingham - стр. 4
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Christine lay embracing her knees and wept silently: her soul could not bear the poverty that surrounded her, and all the men who asked her to marry her were poor like herself. She cried that here, in this rotten place, her beauty would fade in vain, and her life would remain the life of a poor pastor's daughter. In her heart she thought, sharp as a needle, why should Cassie want such beauty, with her sick mind? She hated her poor sister for it.
Cassie, on the other hand, had no idea that they were poor, no idea how hard food and clothes were to get, no idea that she was sick. She lived the joyful life of a child and was happy just to exist. Cassie slept the sound sleep of a child, in the arms of Catherine, whom she loved as much as children love their mother.
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In the morning the church was full of people: everyone came, even the sick and heavy-lifting old people (their sons and sons-in-law brought them in their arms). Everyone was curious to see the new Landlord of Walsingham: they even made a new pew for him and put it in the front row on the left (for this purpose they had to move the other pews closer to the exit). But the Sunday mass had already begun, and the pew was still empty: the lord was not coming, and the peasants began to lose hope of his appearance. Some of them begged the pastor to postpone the service until the Lord arrived, but the pastor refused, saying that no one had the right to keep God waiting. The service continued. A chorus of voices rose to the roof, skewed by time and the heavy snows that covered it every winter.
Suddenly one of the belated parishioners came hurriedly into the church: he whispered something in the ear of a near neighbour, the latter became agitated and whispered in the ear of another, and soon a whisper ran through the church: "He's coming, he's coming!" The Glowfords were excited too, but not Cassie for she was asleep with her head resting on the back of the pew.
The peasants' eyes centred on the church door, and soon indeed the one they had been waiting for so eagerly appeared, but he was not alone: there were two gentlemen, and the peasants were wondering which of them was the landlord of Walsingham.
The gentlemen entered the church at a leisurely walk, and stopping at the very back of the pews, almost touching the wall, took the vacant seats, and began to look cautiously, leisurely at the modest decoration of the church. Two country lads immediately brought the gentlemen a pew made for them: the lords smiled, thanked them, and moved to it, inviting the obliging little ones to sit down beside them. The gentlemen seemed unwilling to draw attention to themselves and behaved quietly and modestly.
Both gentlemen were dressed in fine, expensive travelling suits, which made them an incredible curiosity in the eyes of the unpretentious, old rags clad Walsinghamians. The lords were quite young (Pastor Glowford, a judge of such things, gave them no more than thirty-five years of age), handsome and dapperly dressed. The peasants gazed at them with rapt attention and whispered, but the pastor called them loudly to return to the service and to sing a hymn of praise to the Lord.
The congregation, as one, rose from their pews. The lords who had arrived did likewise. The poor people had realised that it was unseemly to gaze at the noble lords and now carefully averted their curious glances, but the girls continued to sneak glances at the gentlemen. The three old women looked at the lords shamelessly and frowned, thinking that this must be the way the rich birds dressed, which, of course, they had never seen before.