Епоха невинності

           ForamomentArcherstoodwithhiseyesfixedonMedora’sfantasticfigure,strainingtoseewhocamebehindher;butthelittleprocessionwasatanend,forallthelessermembersofthefamilyhadtakentheirseats,andtheeighttallushers,gatheringthemselvestogetherlikebirdsorinsectspreparingforsomemigratorymanoeuvre,werealreadyslippingthroughthesidedoorsintothelobby."Newland—Isay:SHE’SHERE!"thebestmanwhispered.Archerrousedhimselfwithastart.Alongtimehadapparentlypassedsincehishearthadstoppedbeating,forthewhiteandrosyprocessionwasinfacthalfwayupthenave,theBishop,theRectorandtwowhite-wingedassistantswerehoveringabouttheflower-bankedaltar,andthefirstchordsoftheSpohrsymphonywerestrewingtheirflower-likenotesbeforethebride.Archeropenedhiseyes(butcouldtheyreallyhavebeenshut,asheimagined?),andfelthisheartbeginningtoresumeitsusualtask.Themusic,thescentoftheliliesonthealtar,thevisionofthecloudoftulleandorange-blossomsfloatingnearerandnearer,thesightofMrs.Archer’sfacesuddenlyconvulsedwithhappysobs,thelowbenedictorymurmuroftheRector’svoice,theorderedevolutionsoftheeightpinkbridesmaidsandtheeightblackushers:allthesesights,soundsandsensations,sofamiliarinthemselves,sounutterablystrangeandmeaninglessinhisnewrelationtothem,wereconfusedlymingledinhisbrain."MyGod,"hethought,"HAVEIgotthering?"—andoncemorehewentthroughthebridegroom’sconvulsivegesture.