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Strindberg, August, 1849-1912

"Historical Miniatures"

A cold sweat of anxiety
dropped from many brows, knees which had gone to sleep caused pain,
or were numb, and felt as though they had been amputated.
Then the clock suddenly ceased ticking.
Had the works run down? Was it an omen? Was everything going to
stand still, time to be at an end, and eternity begin? From the
congregation rose some stifled cries, and, lifeless with terror,
some bodies dropped on the stone pavement.
Then the clock began to strike--One, Two, Three, Four.... The
twelfth stroke sounded, and the echoes died away. A fresh death-like
silence ensued.
Then Silvester turned round, and, with the proud smile of a victor,
he extended his hands in blessing. At the same moment all the bells
in the tower rang out joyfully, and from the organ-loft a choir of
voices began to sing, somewhat unsteadily at first, but soon firmly
and clearly, "Te Deum Laudamus!"
The congregation joined in, but it was some time before they could
straighten their stiffened backs, and recover from the spectacle of
those who had died of fright. When the hymn was over, the people
fell in each other's arms, weeping and laughing like lunatics, as
they gave each other the kiss of peace.
So ended the first Millennium after the birth of Christ.
In the little castle Paterno on Mount Soracte, the Emperor had spent
the Christmas week and New Year's Eve in the strictest fast and
penance.


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