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Then came the municipal band
in uniform, playing the cheeriest of tunes, and escorted by the
Nepenthe militia whose old-fashioned costume of silver and scarlet was
most effective. The authorities of the island trod on their heels--grave
gentlemen in black clothes, some of them adorned with ribbons and
decorations. The Mephistophelean judge, the freethinker, was among
them; he limped along, expectorating every ten yards or so, presumably
to mark his displeasure at being obliged, as official, to attend a
religious function. The Commissioner, too, was in the ranks. He
appeared just the same as yesterday; very informal in his
knickerbockers, and decidedly pink about the gills.
There followed a long train of priests, clad in lace and silken
garments of every hue. They looked like a perambulating flower-garden.
Plump, jovial fellows--chanting blithely, and occasionally exchanging a
few words with one another. Don Francesco glittered in crimson
vestments; he recognized Mr. Heard, and gave him a broad smile combined
with something which might have been mistaken for a wink.


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