The Amethyst Ring. Anatole France
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the table, took off his glasses and murmured:
“How very annoying!”
“A ciborium, a beautiful ciborium,” said the Abbé.
“When I used to sing in the choir as a boy,” said the General, “I always heard the Fathers call it a custodial.”
“Yes, you can call it either a custodial or a ciborium,” replied the Abbé. “These are the names given to the receptacles which hold the reserved Eucharist. But the custodial is formed like a cylinder and has a conical cover.”
With frowning brow M. de Brécé stood wrapped in thought; then with a deep sigh he said:
“Why should Madame de Bonmont, who is a Jewess, give a ciborium to Notre-Dame-des-Belles-Feuilles? Why have these people a mania for forcing themselves into our churches?”
The Abbé Guitrel, with his fingers thrust into the sleeves of his coat, moistened his lips and said gently:
“Allow me to point out, Monsieur, that Madame Jules de Bonmont is a Catholic.”
“Nonsense!” cried the Duke. “She is an Austrian Jewess, and her maiden name was Wallstein. The real name of her late husband, the Baron de Bonmont, was Gutenberg.”
“Allow me, Monsieur,” said the Abbé. “I do not deny that the Baronne de Bonmont is of Jewish descent. What I mean is that she has been converted and baptized, and is therefore a Christian. She is a good Christian, I might add, and gives largely to our charities, in fact, she is an example to——”
“I am acquainted with your ideas,” interrupted the Duke, “and I respect them as I respect your cloth. But to me a converted Jew remains a Jew; I cannot make any distinction between the two.”
“Neither can I,” said Madame de Brécé.
“To a certain extent your feelings are legitimate, Madame la Duchesse,” replied the Abbé. “But you cannot be unaware of the teaching of the Church, that the curse pronounced against the Jews was inspired by their crime, and not their race, and that therefore the attendant results cannot affect them if——”
“It is heavy,” said the Duke, lifting the ciborium from its case, and holding it out.
“I am most annoyed,” said the Duchess.
“It is very heavy!” repeated the Duke.
“And, what is more,” added the Abbé, “it is a beautiful piece of work, and possesses the refined characteristics which are, so to speak, the seal and stamp of the work of Rondonneau the younger. None but the Archbishop’s goldsmith could have displayed such judgment in the selection of a model from traditional Christian art, or have reproduced the shape and decoration with such skill and fidelity. This ciborium is a work of the highest merit, and is in the style of the thirteenth century.”
“The bowl and cover are in solid gold,” said M. de Brécé.
“According to liturgical regulations the bowl of the ciborium must be of gold, or, at any rate, of silver, gilded inside,” said the Abbé.
M. de Brécé, who was holding it upside down, remarked:
“The foot is hollow.”
“That’s a good thing!” cried the Duchess.
The Abbé Guitrel looked lovingly at the work of Rondonneau the younger.
“There is no doubt about it,” he said, “it is thirteenth century, and a better period could not have been selected. The thirteenth century is the golden age of this particular kind of work. At that epoch the ciborium was made in the beautiful shape of a pomegranate, which you recognize in this delicious example. The firm, strong foot is further enriched with enamels and inset with precious stones.”
“Mercy upon us! precious stones!” cried the Duchess.
“Figures of angels and prophets are finely chased on the lozenge-shaped panels, giving the most delightful effect to the whole.”
“That Bonmont was a rogue,” said Madame de Courtrai suddenly. “He was a thief; and his widow has not yet made restitution.”
“You see that she is beginning to do so, however,” said the Duke, pointing to the shining ciborium.
“What shall we do?” asked the Duchess.
“We cannot return her gift,” said the Duke.
“Why not?” asked his mother.
“Well, mother, because it is impossible.”
“Then we’ve got to keep it?” asked the Duchess.
“Well—yes, I suppose so.”
“And thank her?”
“What else can we do?”
“Don’t you agree with me, General?”
“It would have been fitter,” said the General, “if this lady, who is a stranger to you, had refrained from making you a present. But there is no reason to respond to her civility with an insult.”
Taking the ciborium in his venerable hands, the Abbé Guitrel said:
“Notre-Dame-des-Belles-Feuilles will, I feel sure, look with kindness upon this gift, presented by a pious soul to the tabernacle of her altar.”
“But, hang it all,” put in the Duke, “I am Notre-Dame-des-Belles-Feuilles in this case. If Madame de Bonmont and young Bonmont want to be invited to my house—and they certainly will want to—I shall be obliged to receive them now.”
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