“Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.  Amen.”

He said this without looking at the man and woman who stood before him, the man on the right hand and the woman on the left, but when he lifted his hand to sprinkle them with holy water he could not forbear glancing at them, and he saw Domini as a shining radiance, but Androvsky as a thing of stone.  With a movement that seemed to the priest sinister in its oppressed deliberation, Androvsky placed gold and silver upon the book and the marriage ring.

The priest spoke again, slowly, in the uproar of the wind, after blessing the ring: 

“Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domini.”

After the reply the “Domine, exaudi orationem meam,” the “Et clamor,” the “Dominus vobiscum,” and the “Et cum spiritu tuo,” the “Oremus,” and the prayer following, he sprinkled the ring with holy water in the form of a cross and gave it to Androvsky to give with gold and silver to Domini.  Androvsky took the ring, repeated the formula, “With this ring,” etc., then still, as it seemed to the priest, with the same sinister deliberation, placed it on the thumb of the bride’s uncovered hand, saying, “In the name of the Father,” then on her second finger, saying, “Of the Son,” then on her third finger, saying, “Of the Holy Ghost,” then on her fourth finger.  But at this moment, when he should have said “Amen,” there was a long pause of silence.  During it—­why he did not know—­the priest found himself thinking of the saying of St. Isidore of Seville that the ring of marriage is left on the fourth finger of the bride’s hand because that finger contains a vein directly connected with the heart.

“Amen.”

Androvsky had spoken.  The priest started, and went on with the “Confirma, hoc, Deus.”  And from this point until the “Per Christum Dominum nostrum, Amen,” which, since there was no Mass, closed the ceremony, he felt more master of himself and his emotions than at any time previously during this day.  A sensation of finality, of the irrevocable, came to him.  He said within himself, “This matter has passed out of my hands into the hands of God.”  And in the midst of the violence of the storm a calm stole upon his spirit.  “God knows best!” he said within himself.  “God knows best!”

Those words and the state of feeling that was linked with them were and had always been to him as mighty protecting arms that uplifted him above the beating waves of the sea of life.  The Wedding March sounded when the priest bade good-bye to the husband and wife whom he had made one.  He was able to do it tranquilly.  He even pressed Androvsky’s hand.

“Be good to her,” he said.  “She is—­she is a good woman.”

To his surprise Androvsky suddenly wrung his hand almost passionately, and the priest saw that there were tears in his eyes.