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The women, especially the old ones, fixed their eyes on an iconsurrounded with candies and made the sign of the cross, firmlypressing their folded fingers to the kerchief on their foreheads,to their shoulders, and their stomachs, and, whisperingsomething, stooped or knelt down. The children, imitating thegrown-up people, prayed earnestly when they knew that they werebeing observed. The gilt case containing the icon glittered,illuminated on all sides by tall candles ornamented with goldenspirals. The candelabra was filled with tapers, and from thechoir sounded most merry tunes sung by amateur choristers, withbellowing bass and shrill boys' voices among them.

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Nekhludoff passed up to the front. In the middle of the churchstood the aristocracy of the place: a landed proprietor, with hiswife and son (the latter dressed in a sailor's suit), the policeofficer, the telegraph clerk, a tradesman in top-boots, and thevillage elder, with a medal on his breast; and to the right ofthe ambo, just behind the landed proprietor's wife, stood MatronaPavlovna in a lilac dress and fringed shawl and Katusha in awhite dress with a tucked bodice, blue sash, and red bow in herblack hair. human hair wigs kansas city

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Everything seemed festive, solemn, bright, and beautiful: thepriest in his silver cloth vestments with gold crosses; thedeacon, the clerk and chanter in their silver and gold surplices;the amateur choristers in their best clothes, with theirwell-oiled hair; the merry tunes of the holiday hymns thatsounded like dance music; and the continual blessing of thepeople by the priests, who held candles decorated with flowers,and repeated the cry of "Christ is risen!" "Christ is risen!" Allwas beautiful; but, above all, Katusha, in her white dress, bluesash, and the red bow on her black head, her eyes beaming withrapture. human hair wigs lace cap

Nekhludoff knew that she felt his presence without looking athim. He noticed this as he passed her, walking up to the altar.He had nothing to tell her, but he invented something to say andwhispered as he passed her: "Aunt told me that she would breakher fast after the late mass." The young blood rushed up toKatusha's sweet face, as it always did when she looked at him.The black eyes, laughing and full of joy, gazed naively up andremained fixed on Nekhludoff.

"I know," she said, with a smile.

At this moment the clerk was going out with a copper coffee-pot[coffee-pots are often used for holding holy water in Russia] ofholy water in his hand, and, not noticing Katusha, brushed herwith his surplice. Evidently he brushed against Katusha throughwishing to pass Nekhludoff at a respectful distance, andNekhludoff was surprised that he, the clerk, did not understandthat everything here, yes, and in all the world, only existed forKatusha, and that everything else might remain unheeded, only notshe, because she was the centre of all. For her the goldglittered round the icons; for her all these candles incandelabra and candlesticks were alight; for her were sung thesejoyful hymns, "Behold the Passover of the Lord" "Rejoice, O yepeople!" All,all that was good in the world was for her. And itseemed to him that Katusha was aware that it was all for her whenhe looked at her well-shaped figure, the tucked white dress, thewrapt, joyous expression of her face, by which he knew that justexactly the same that was singing in his own soul was alsosinging in hers.

In the interval between the early and the late mass Nekhludoffleft the church. The people stood aside to let him pass, andbowed. Some knew him; others asked who he was.

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