feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/The Red and the Black/section_17_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Red and the Black.part 1.chapter 18
feat_summary_id: part 1, chapter 18
feat_summary: {"name": "Part 1, Chapter 18", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20200920104425/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/red-and-the-black/summary/part-1-chapter-18", "summary": "Word spreads through Verrieres that a foreign king is going to visit the city in a week. The town decides to assemble a group of its best and brightest to be the king's official \"Honor Guard.\" The mayor chooses a political ally to be the leader of the guard, even though the man can't ride a horse properly. Decorators start pouring into the de Renal house in preparation to host the king. Julien is sad to see that Madame de Renal becomes too obsessed with decorating to think about their affair. The mayor has to crawl back to Father Chelan to ask him to participate in the visit. He does this because Chelan has a powerful friend in Paris named Marquis de La Mole who will redirect the king's visit to Father Chelan's house if the mayor doesn't include the old priest. When the day of the king's visit arrives, peasants pour into Verrieres from the surrounding mountains. When the Honor Guard rides through town, people are outraged to see Julien Sorel, a carpenter's son, riding among them. He's just a peasant, and there are lots of qualified high society folks who didn't make it into the Honor Guard. This was the mayor's decision, though. Julien feels like a hero in Napoleon's army as he rides around on his horse. The king's parade reaches a church where the king wishes to visit a holy statue. Julien runs inside, throws on some priestly robes, and joins Father Chelan in welcoming the man. The bishop is late in entering the church, so Julien zigzags through a bunch of doorways until he finds the dude. The reason the guy is so late is because he's really young and doesn't quite know what he's supposed to say at the religious ceremony he's about to lead. Julien is impressed by the authority wielded by the bishop at such a young age. He starts thinking about joining the clergy again instead of the military. Julien follows the king's procession into an inner chapel, where a statue of Saint Clement is housed. That night, the Marquis de La Mole distributes ten thousand bottles of wine among the peasants of the area to mark the festivities.", "analysis": ""}
text: CHAPTER XVIII
  
  A KING AT VERRIERES
  
  
      Do you not deserve to be thrown aside like a plebeian
      corpse which has no soul and whose blood flows no
      longer in its veins.
                     _Sermon of the Bishop at the Chapel of Saint Clement_.
  
  
  On the 3rd of September at ten o'clock in the evening, a gendarme woke
  up the whole of Verrieres by galloping up the main street. He brought
  the news that His Majesty the King of ---- would arrive the following
  Sunday, and it was already Tuesday. The prefect authorised, that is to
  say, demanded the forming of a guard of honour. They were to exhibit
  all possible pomp. An express messenger was sent to Vergy. M. de Renal
  arrived during the night and found the town in a commotion. Each
  individual had his own pretensions; those who were less busy hired
  balconies to see the King.
  
  Who was to command the Guard of Honour? M. de Renal at once realised
  how essential it was in the interests of the houses liable to have
  their frontage put back that M. de Moirod should have the command.
  That might entitle him to the post of first deputy-mayor. There was
  nothing to say against the devoutness of M. de Moirod. It brooked
  no comparison, but he had never sat on a horse. He was a man of
  thirty-six, timid in every way, and equally frightened of falling and
  of looking ridiculous. The mayor had summoned him as early as five
  o'clock in the morning.
  
  "You see, monsieur, I ask your advice, as though you already occupy
  that post to which all the people on the right side want to carry you.
  In this unhappy town, manufacturers are prospering, the Liberal party
  is becoming possessed of millions, it aspires to power; it will manage
  to exploit everything to its own ends. Let us consult the interests of
  the king, the interest of the monarchy, and above all, the interest of
  our holy religion. Who do you think, monsieur, could be entrusted with
  the command of the guard of honour?"
  
  In spite of the terrible fear with which horses inspired him, M. de
  Moirod finished by accepting this honour like a martyr. "I shall know
  how to take the right tone," he said to the mayor. There was scarcely
  time enough to get ready the uniforms which had served seven years ago
  on the occasion of the passage of a prince of the blood.
  
  At seven o'clock, Madame de Renal arrived at Vergy with Julien and
  the children. She found her drawing room filled with Liberal ladies
  who preached the union of all parties and had come to beg her to urge
  her husband to grant a place to theirs in the guard of honour. One of
  them actually asserted that if her husband was not chosen he would go
  bankrupt out of chagrin. Madame de Renal quickly got rid of all these
  people. She seemed very engrossed.
  
  Julien was astonished, and what was more, angry that she should make
  a mystery of what was disturbing her, "I had anticipated it," he said
  bitterly to himself. "Her love is being over-shadowed by the happiness
  of receiving a King in her house. All this hubbub overcomes her. She
  will love me once more when the ideas of her caste no longer trouble
  her brain."
  
  An astonishing fact, he only loved her the more.
  
  The decorators began to fill the house. He watched a long time for the
  opportunity to exchange a few words. He eventually found her as she was
  coming out of his own room, carrying one of his suits. They were alone.
  He tried to speak to her. She ran away, refusing to listen to him. "I
  am an absolute fool to love a woman like that, whose ambition renders
  her as mad as her husband."
  
  She was madder. One of her great wishes which she had never confessed
  to Julien for fear of shocking him, was to see him leave off, if only
  for one day, his gloomy black suit. With an adroitness which was truly
  admirable in so ingenuous a woman, she secured first from M. de Moirod,
  and subsequently, from M. the sub-perfect de Maugiron, an assurance
  that Julien should be nominated a guard of honour in preference to five
  or six young people, the sons of very well-off manufacturers, of whom
  two at least, were models of piety. M. de Valenod, who reckoned on
  lending his carriage to the prettiest women in the town, and on showing
  off his fine Norman steeds, consented to let Julien (the being he hated
  most in the whole world) have one of his horses. But all the guards of
  honour, either possessed or had borrowed, one of those pretty sky-blue
  uniforms, with two silver colonel epaulettes, which had shone seven
  years ago. Madame de Renal wanted a new uniform, and she only had four
  days in which to send to Besancon and get from there the uniform, the
  arms, the hat, etc., everything necessary for a Guard of Honour. The
  most delightful part of it was that she thought it imprudent to get
  Julien's uniform made at Verrieres. She wanted to surprise both him and
  the town.
  
  Having settled the questions of the guards of honour, and of the public
  welcome finished, the mayor had now to organise a great religious
  ceremony. The King of ---- did not wish to pass through Verrieres
  without visiting the famous relic of St. Clement, which is kept at
  Bray-le-Haut barely a league from the town. The authorities wanted
  to have a numerous attendance of the clergy, but this matter was the
  most difficult to arrange. M. Maslon, the new cure, wanted to avoid at
  any price the presence of M. Chelan. It was in vain that M. de Renal
  tried to represent to him that it would be imprudent to do so. M. the
  Marquis de La Mole whose ancestors had been governors of the province
  for so many generations, had been chosen to accompany the King of ----.
  He had known the abbe Chelan for thirty years. He would certainly ask
  news of him when he arrived at Verrieres, and if he found him disgraced
  he was the very man to go and route him out in the little house to
  which he had retired, accompanied by all the escort that he had at his
  disposition. What a rebuff that would be?
  
  "I shall be disgraced both here and at Besancon," answered the abbe
  Maslon, "if he appears among my clergy. A Jansenist, by the Lord."
  
  "Whatever you can say, my dear abbe," replied M. de Renal, "I'll never
  expose the administration of Verrieres to receiving such an affront
  from M. de la Mole. You do not know him. He is orthodox enough at
  Court, but here in the provinces, he is a satirical wit and cynic,
  whose only object is to make people uncomfortable. He is capable of
  covering us with ridicule in the eyes of the Liberals, simply in order
  to amuse himself."
  
  It was only on the night between the Saturday and the Sunday, after
  three whole days of negotiations that the pride of the abbe Maslon bent
  before the fear of the mayor, which was now changing into courage. It
  was necessary to write a honeyed letter to the abbe Chelan, begging
  him to be present at the ceremony in connection with the relic of
  Bray-le-Haut, if of course, his great age and his infirmity allowed him
  to do so. M. Chelan asked for and obtained a letter of invitation for
  Julien, who was to accompany him as his sub-deacon.
  
  From the beginning of the Sunday morning, thousands of peasants began
  to arrive from the neighbouring mountains, and to inundate the streets
  of Verrieres. It was the finest sunshine. Finally, about three o'clock,
  a thrill swept through all this crowd. A great fire had been perceived
  on a rock two leagues from Verrieres. This signal announced that the
  king had just entered the territory of the department. At the same
  time, the sound of all the bells and the repeated volleys from an old
  Spanish cannon which belonged to the town, testified to its joy at
  this great event. Half the population climbed on to the roofs. All the
  women were on the balconies. The guard of honour started to march, The
  brilliant uniforms were universally admired; everybody recognised a
  relative or a friend. They made fun of the timidity of M. de Moirod,
  whose prudent hand was ready every single minute to catch hold of his
  saddle-bow. But one remark resulted in all the others being forgotten;
  the first cavalier in the ninth line was a very pretty, slim boy, who
  was not recognised at first. He soon created a general sensation, as
  some uttered a cry of indignation, and others were dumbfounded with
  astonishment. They recognised in this young man, who was sitting one
  of the Norman horses of M. Valenod, little Sorel, the carpenter's son.
  There was a unanimous out-cry against the mayor, above all on the part
  of the Liberals. What, because this little labourer, who masqueraded as
  an abbe, was tutor to his brats, he had the audacity to nominate him
  guard of honour to the prejudice of rich manufacturers like so-and-so
  and so-and-so! "Those gentlemen," said a banker's wife, "ought to put
  that insolent gutter-boy in his proper place."
  
  "He is cunning and carries a sabre," answered her neighbour. "He would
  be dastardly enough to slash them in the face."
  
  The conversation of aristocratic society was more dangerous. The ladies
  began to ask each other if the mayor alone was responsible for this
  grave impropriety. Speaking generally, they did justice to his contempt
  for lack of birth.
  
  Julien was the happiest of men, while he was the subject of so much
  conversation. Bold by nature, he sat a horse better than the majority
  of the young men of this mountain town. He saw that, in the eyes of the
  women, he was the topic of interest.
  
  His epaulettes were more brilliant than those of the others, because
  they were new. His horse pranced at every moment. He reached the zenith
  of joy.
  
  His happiness was unbounded when, as they passed by the old rampart,
  the noise of the little cannon made his horse prance outside the line.
  By a great piece of luck he did not fall; from that moment he felt
  himself a hero. He was one of Napoleon's officers of artillery, and was
  charging a battery.
  
  One person was happier than he. She had first seen him pass from one
  of the folding windows in the Hotel de Ville. Then taking her carriage
  and rapidly making a long detour, she arrived in time to shudder when
  his horse took him outside the line. Finally she put her carriage to
  the gallop, left by another gate of the town, succeeded in rejoining
  the route by which the King was to pass, and was able to follow the
  Guard of Honour at twenty paces distance in the midst of a noble dust.
  Six thousand peasants cried "Long live the King," when the mayor had
  the honour to harangue his Majesty. An hour afterwards, when all the
  speeches had been listened to, and the King was going to enter the
  town, the little cannon began again to discharge its spasmodic volleys.
  But an accident ensued, the victim being, not one of the cannoneers who
  had proved their mettle at Leipsic and at Montreuil, but the future
  deputy-mayor, M. de Moirod. His horse gently laid him in the one heap
  of mud on the high road, a somewhat scandalous circumstance, inasmuch
  as it was necessary to extricate him to allow the King to pass. His
  Majesty alighted at the fine new church, which was decked out to-day
  with all its crimson curtains. The King was due to dine, and then
  afterwards take his carriage again and go and pay his respects to the
  celebrated relic of Saint Clement. Scarcely was the King in the church
  than Julien galloped towards the house of M. de Renal. Once there
  he doffed with a sigh his fine sky-blue uniform, his sabre and his
  epaulettes, to put on again his shabby little black suit. He mounted
  his horse again, and in a few moments was at Bray-le-Haut, which was
  on the summit of a very pretty hill. "Enthusiasm is responsible for
  these numbers of peasants," thought Julien. It was impossible to move
  a step at Verrieres, and here there were more than ten thousand round
  this ancient abbey. Half ruined by the vandalism of the Revolution,
  it had been magnificently restored since the Restoration, and people
  were already beginning to talk of miracles. Julien rejoined the abbe
  Chelan, who scolded him roundly and gave him a cassock and a surplice.
  He dressed quickly and followed M. Chelan, who was going to pay a call
  on the young bishop of Agde. He was a nephew of M. de la Mole, who had
  been recently nominated, and had been charged with the duty of showing
  the relic to the King. But the bishop was not to be found.
  
  The clergy began to get impatient. It was awaiting its chief in the
  sombre Gothic cloister of the ancient abbey. Twenty-four cures had
  been brought together so as to represent the ancient chapter of
  Bray-le-Haut, which before 1789 consisted of twenty-four canons. The
  cures, having deplored the bishop's youth for three-quarters of an
  hour, thought it fitting for their senior to visit Monseigneur to
  apprise him that the King was on the point of arriving, and that it was
  time to betake himself to the choir. The great age of M. Chelan gave
  him the seniority. In spite of the bad temper which he was manifesting
  to Julien, he signed him to follow. Julien was wearing his surplice
  with distinction. By means of some trick or other of ecclesiastical
  dress, he had made his fine curling hair very flat, but by a
  forgetfulness, which redoubled the anger of M. Chelan, the spurs of the
  Guard of Honour could be seen below the long folds of his cassock.
  
  When they arrived at the bishop's apartment, the tall lackeys with
  their lace-frills scarcely deigned to answer the old cure to the effect
  that Monseigneur was not receiving. They made fun of him when he tried
  to explain that in his capacity of senior member of the chapter of
  Bray-le-Haut, he had the privilege of being admitted at any time to the
  officiating bishop.
  
  Julien's haughty temper was shocked by the lackeys' insolence. He
  started to traverse the corridors of the ancient abbey, and to shake
  all the doors which he found. A very small one yielded to his efforts,
  and he found himself in a cell in the midst of Monseigneur's valets,
  who were dressed in black suits with chains on their necks. His hurried
  manner made these gentlemen think that he had been sent by the bishop,
  and they let him pass. He went some steps further on, and found himself
  in an immense Gothic hall, which was extremely dark, and completely
  wainscotted in black oak. The ogive windows had all been walled in
  with brick except one. There was nothing to disguise the coarseness
  of this masonry, which offered a melancholy contrast to the ancient
  magnificence of the woodwork. The two great sides of this hall, so
  celebrated among Burgundian antiquaries, and built by the Duke, Charles
  the Bold, about 1470 in expiation of some sin, were adorned with richly
  sculptured wooden stalls. All the mysteries of the Apocalypse were to
  be seen portrayed in wood of different colours.
  
  This melancholy magnificence, debased as it was by the sight of the
  bare bricks and the plaster (which was still quite white) affected
  Julien. He stopped in silence. He saw at the other extremity of the
  hall, near the one window which let in the daylight, a movable mahogany
  mirror. A young man in a violet robe and a lace surplice, but with his
  head bare, was standing still three paces from the glass. This piece
  of furniture seemed strange in a place like this, and had doubtless
  been only brought there on the previous day. Julien thought that the
  young man had the appearance of being irritated. He was solemnly giving
  benedictions with his right hand close to the mirror.
  
  "What can this mean," he thought. "Is this young priest performing some
  preliminary ceremony? Perhaps he is the bishop's secretary. He will be
  as insolent as the lackeys. Never mind though! Let us try." He advanced
  and traversed somewhat slowly the length of the hall, with his gaze
  fixed all the time on the one window, and looking at the young man who
  continued without any intermission bestowing slowly an infinite number
  of blessings.
  
  The nearer he approached the better he could distinguish his angry
  manner. The richness of the lace surplice stopped Julien in spite of
  himself some paces in front of the mirror. "It is my duty to speak," he
  said to himself at last. But the beauty of the hall had moved him, and
  he was already upset by the harsh words he anticipated.
  
  The young man saw him in the mirror, turned round, and suddenly
  discarding his angry manner, said to him in the gentlest tone,
  
  "Well, Monsieur, has it been arranged at last?"
  
  Julien was dumbfounded. As the young man began to turn towards him,
  Julien saw the pectoral cross on his breast. It was the bishop of Agde.
  "As young as that," thought Julien. "At most six or eight years older
  than I am!"
  
  He was ashamed of his spurs.
  
  "Monseigneur," he said at last, "I am sent by M. Chelan, the senior of
  the chapter."
  
  "Ah, he has been well recommended to me," said the bishop in a polished
  tone which doubled Julien's delight, "But I beg your pardon, Monsieur,
  I mistook you for the person who was to bring me my mitre. It was badly
  packed at Paris. The silver cloth towards the top has been terribly
  spoiled. It will look awful," ended the young bishop sadly, "And
  besides, I am being kept waiting."
  
  "Monseigneur, I will go and fetch the mitre if your grace will let me."
  
  Julien's fine eyes did their work.
  
  "Go, Monsieur," answered the bishop, with charming politeness. "I need
  it immediately. I am grieved to keep the gentlemen of the chapter
  waiting."
  
  When Julien reached the centre of the hall, he turned round towards the
  bishop, and saw that he had again commenced giving benedictions.
  
  "What can it be?" Julien asked himself. "No doubt it is a necessary
  ecclesiastical preliminary for the ceremony which is to take place."
  When he reached the cell in which the valets were congregated, he
  saw the mitre in their hands. These gentlemen succumbed in spite of
  themselves to his imperious look, and gave him Monseigneur's mitre.
  
  He felt proud to carry it. As he crossed the hall he walked slowly. He
  held it with reverence. He found the bishop seated before the glass,
  but from time to time, his right hand, although fatigued, still gave a
  blessing. Julien helped him to adjust his mitre. The bishop shook his
  head.
  
  "Ah! it will keep on," he said to Julien with an air of satisfaction.
  "Do you mind going a little way off?"
  
  Then the bishop went very quickly to the centre of the room, then
  approached the mirror, again resumed his angry manner, and gravely
  began to give blessings.
  
  Julien was motionless with astonishment. He was tempted to understand,
  but did not dare. The bishop stopped, and suddenly abandoning his grave
  manner looked at him and said:
  
  "What do you think of my mitre, monsieur, is it on right?"
  
  "Quite right, Monseigneur."
  
  "It is not too far back? That would look a little silly, but I mustn't
  on the other hand wear it down over the eyes like an officer's shako."
  
  "It seems to me to be on quite right."
  
  "The King of ---- is accustomed to a venerable clergy who are doubtless
  very solemn. I should not like to appear lacking in dignity, especially
  by reason of my youth."
  
  And the bishop started again to walk about and give benedictions.
  
  "It is quite clear," said Julien, daring to understand at last, "He is
  practising giving his benediction."
  
  "I am ready," the bishop said after a few moments. "Go, Monsieur, and
  advise the senior and the gentlemen of the chapter."
  
  Soon M. Chelan, followed by the two oldest cures, entered by a big
  magnificently sculptured door, which Julien had not previously noticed.
  But this time he remained in his place quite at the back, and was only
  able to see the bishop over the shoulders of ecclesiastics who were
  pressing at the door in crowds.
  
  The bishop began slowly to traverse the hall. When he reached the
  threshold, the cures formed themselves into a procession. After a short
  moment of confusion, the procession began to march intoning the psalm.
  The bishop, who was between M. Chelan and a very old cure, was the last
  to advance. Julien being in attendance on the abbe Chelan managed to
  get quite near Monseigneur. They followed the long corridors of the
  abbey of Bray-le-Haut. In spite of the brilliant sun they were dark and
  damp. They arrived finally at the portico of the cloister. Julien was
  dumbfounded with admiration for so fine a ceremony. His emotions were
  divided between thoughts of his own ambition which had been reawakened
  by the bishop's youth and thoughts of the latter's refinement and
  exquisite politeness. This politeness was quite different to that of M.
  de Renal, even on his good days. "The higher you lift yourself towards
  the first rank of society," said Julien to himself, "the more charming
  manners you find."
  
  They entered the church by a side door; suddenly an awful noise made
  the ancient walls echo. Julien thought they were going to crumble. It
  was the little piece of artillery again. It had been drawn at a gallop
  by eight horses and had just arrived. Immediately on its arrival it had
  been run out by the Leipsic cannoneers and fired five shots a minute as
  though the Prussians had been the target.
  
  But this admirable noise no longer produced any effect on Julien. He no
  longer thought of Napoleon and military glory. "To be bishop of Agde so
  young," he thought. "But where is Agde? How much does it bring in? Two
  or three hundred thousand francs, perhaps."
  
  Monseigneur's lackeys appeared with a magnificent canopy. M. Chelan
  took one of the poles, but as a matter of fact it was Julien who
  carried it. The bishop took his place underneath. He had really
  succeeded in looking old; and our hero's admiration was now quite
  unbounded. "What can't one accomplish with skill," he thought.
  
  The king entered. Julien had the good fortune to see him at close
  quarters. The bishop began to harangue him with unction, without
  forgetting a little nuance of very polite anxiety for his Majesty.
  We will not repeat a description of the ceremony of Bray-le-Haut.
  They filled all the columns of the journals of the department for a
  fortnight on end. Julien learnt from the bishop that the king was
  descended from Charles the Bold.
  
  At a later date, it was one of Julien's duties to check the accounts
  of the cost of this ceremony. M. de la Mole, who had succeeded in
  procuring a bishopric for his nephew, had wished to do him the favour
  of being himself responsible for all the expenses. The ceremony alone
  of Bray-le-Haute cost three thousand eight hundred francs.
  
  After the speech of the bishop, and the answer of the king, his
  Majesty took up a position underneath the canopy, and then knelt very
  devoutly on a cushion near the altar. The choir was surrounded by
  stalls, and the stalls were raised two steps from the pavement. It
  was at the bottom of these steps that Julien sat at the feet of M.
  de Chelan almost like a train-bearer sitting next to his cardinal in
  the Sixtine chapel at Rome. There was a _Te Deum_, floods of incense,
  innumerable volleys of musketry and artillery; the peasants were drunk
  with happiness and piety. A day like this undoes the work of a hundred
  numbers of the Jacobin papers.
  
  Julien was six paces from the king, who was really praying with
  devotion. He noticed for the first time a little man with a witty
  expression, who wore an almost plain suit. But he had a sky-blue ribbon
  over this very simple suit. He was nearer the king than many other
  lords, whose clothes were embroidered with gold to such an extent that,
  to use Julien's expression, it was impossible to see the cloth. He
  learnt some minutes later that it was Monsieur de la Mole. He thought
  he looked haughty, and even insolent.
  
  "I'm sure this marquis is not so polite as my pretty bishop," he
  thought. "Ah, the ecclesiastical calling makes men mild and good. But
  the king has come to venerate the relic, and I don't see a trace of the
  relic. Where has Saint Clement got to?"
  
  A little priest who sat next to him informed him that the venerable
  relic was at the top of the building in a _chapelle ardente_.
  
  "What is a _chapelle ardente_," said Julien to himself.
  
  But he was reluctant to ask the meaning of this word. He redoubled his
  attention.
  
  The etiquette on the occasion of a visit of a sovereign prince is
  that the canons do not accompany the bishop. But, as he started on
  his march to the _chapelle ardente_, my lord bishop of Agde called
  the abbe Chelan. Julien dared to follow him. Having climbed up a long
  staircase, they reached an extremely small door whose Gothic frame
  was magnificently gilded. This work looked as though it had been
  constructed the day before.
  
  Twenty-four young girls belonging to the most distinguished families in
  Verrieres were assembled in front of the door. The bishop knelt down
  in the midst of these pretty maidens before he opened the door. While
  he was praying aloud, they seemed unable to exhaust their admiration
  for his fine lace, his gracious mien, and his young and gentle face.
  This spectacle deprived our hero of his last remnants of reason. At
  this moment he would have fought for the Inquisition, and with a good
  conscience. The door suddenly opened. The little chapel was blazing
  with light. More than a thousand candles could be seen before the
  altar, divided into eight lines and separated from each other by
  bouquets of flowers. The suave odour of the purest incense eddied
  out from the door of the sanctuary. The chapel, which had been newly
  gilded, was extremely small but very high. Julien noticed that there
  were candles more than fifteen feet high upon the altar. The young
  girls could not restrain a cry of admiration. Only the twenty-four
  young girls, the two cures and Julien had been admitted into the little
  vestibule of the chapel. Soon the king arrived, followed by Monsieur
  de la Mole and his great Chamberlain. The guards themselves remained
  outside kneeling and presenting arms.
  
  His Majesty precipitated, rather than threw himself, on to the stool.
  It was only then that Julien, who was keeping close to the gilded
  door, perceived over the bare arm of a young girl, the charming statue
  of St. Clement. It was hidden under the altar, and bore the dress of
  a young Roman soldier. It had a large wound on its neck, from which
  the blood seemed to flow. The artist had surpassed himself. The eyes,
  which though dying were full of grace, were half closed. A budding
  moustache adored that charming mouth which, though half closed, seemed
  notwithstanding to be praying. The young girl next to Julien wept warm
  tears at the sight. One of her tears fell on Julien's hand.
  
  After a moment of prayer in the profoundest silence, that was only
  broken by the distant sound of the bells of all the villages within a
  radius of ten leagues, the bishop of Agde asked the king's permission
  to speak. He finished a short but very touching speech with a passage,
  the very simplicity of which assured its effectiveness:
  
  "Never forget, young Christian women, that you have seen one of the
  greatest kings of the world on his knees before the servants of
  this Almighty and terrible God. These servants, feeble, persecuted,
  assassinated as they were on earth, as you can see by the still
  bleeding wounds of Saint Clement, will triumph in Heaven. You will
  remember them, my young Christian women, will you not, this day for
  ever, and will detest the infidel. You will be for ever faithful to
  this God who is so great, so terrible, but so good?"
  
  With these words the bishop rose authoritatively.
  
  "You promise me?" he said, lifting up his arm with an inspired air.
  
  "We promise," said the young girls melting into tears.
  
  "I accept your promise in the name of the terrible God," added the
  bishop in a thunderous voice, and the ceremony was at an end.
  
  The king himself was crying. It was only a long time afterwards that
  Julien had sufficient self-possession to enquire "where were the bones
  of the Saint that had been sent from Rome to Philip the Good, Duke of
  Burgundy?" He was told that they were hidden in the charming waxen
  figure.
  
  His Majesty deigned to allow the young ladies who had accompanied him
  into the chapel to wear a red ribbon on which were embroidered these
  words, "HATE OF THE INFIDEL. PERPETUAL ADORATION."
  
  Monsieur de la Mole had ten thousand bottles of wine distributed among
  the peasants. In the evening at Verrieres, the Liberals made a point of
  having illuminations which were a hundred times better than those of
  the Royalists. Before leaving, the king paid a visit to M. de Moirod.
  
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Part 1, Chapter 18
target: Word spreads through Verrieres that a foreign king is going to visit the city in a week. The town decides to assemble a group of its best and brightest to be the king's official "Honor Guard." The mayor chooses a political ally to be the leader of the guard, even though the man can't ride a horse properly. Decorators start pouring into the de Renal house in preparation to host the king. Julien is sad to see that Madame de Renal becomes too obsessed with decorating to think about their affair. The mayor has to crawl back to Father Chelan to ask him to participate in the visit. He does this because Chelan has a powerful friend in Paris named Marquis de La Mole who will redirect the king's visit to Father Chelan's house if the mayor doesn't include the old priest. When the day of the king's visit arrives, peasants pour into Verrieres from the surrounding mountains. When the Honor Guard rides through town, people are outraged to see Julien Sorel, a carpenter's son, riding among them. He's just a peasant, and there are lots of qualified high society folks who didn't make it into the Honor Guard. This was the mayor's decision, though. Julien feels like a hero in Napoleon's army as he rides around on his horse. The king's parade reaches a church where the king wishes to visit a holy statue. Julien runs inside, throws on some priestly robes, and joins Father Chelan in welcoming the man. The bishop is late in entering the church, so Julien zigzags through a bunch of doorways until he finds the dude. The reason the guy is so late is because he's really young and doesn't quite know what he's supposed to say at the religious ceremony he's about to lead. Julien is impressed by the authority wielded by the bishop at such a young age. He starts thinking about joining the clergy again instead of the military. Julien follows the king's procession into an inner chapel, where a statue of Saint Clement is housed. That night, the Marquis de La Mole distributes ten thousand bottles of wine among the peasants of the area to mark the festivities.