In the Greek
church every one stands, no matter how long the service. In fact, you
cannot sit down unless you sit on the floor, for there are no seats.
By degrees we worked our way towards the space reserved for the
Diplomatic Corps, where we were invited to enter. Our wraps were taken
and chairs were given to us. We found ourselves on the platform with
the priest, just back of the choir. What heavenly voices! What
wonderful voices! The bass holds on to the last note, and the rumble
and echo of it rolls through those vaulted domes like the tones of an
organ. The long-haired priest, too, had a wonderful resonant voice for
intoning. He passed directly by us in his gorgeous cloth of gold
vestments, as he went out.
The instant he had finished, the little choir boys began to pinch each
other and thrust their tapers in each other's faces, and behaved quite
like ordinary boys. The great crowd scattered and huge ladders were
brought in to put out the hundreds of candles in the enormous
chandeliers. Religion was over, and the world began again.
The other art which is maintained at the government expense is the
ballet.
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