Burlesques William Makepeace Thackeray

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As they passed out, the two pictures over the wall, of a gentleman and lady, tripped lightly
out of their frames, skipped noiselessly down to the ground, and making the retreating
couple a profound curtsy and bow, took the places which they had left at the table.
Meanwhile the young couple passed on towards the chapel, threading innumerable
passages, and passing through chambers of great extent. As they came along, all the
portraits on the wall stepped out of their frames to follow them. One ancestor, of whom
there was only a bust, frowned in the greatest rage, because, having no legs, his pedestal
would not move; and several sticking-plaster profiles of the former Lords of Windeck
looked quite black at being, for similar reasons, compelled to keep their places. However,
there was a goodly procession formed behind Wolfgang and his bride; and by the time they
reached the church, they had near a hundred followers.
The church was splendidly illuminated; the old banners of the old knights glittered as they
do at Drury Lane. The organ set up of itself to play the "Bridesmaid's Chorus." The choirchairs
were filled with people in black.
"Come, love," said the pale lady.
"I don't see the parson," exclaimed Wolfgang, spite of himself rather alarmed.
"Oh, the parson! that's the easiest thing in the world! I say, bishop!" said the lady, stooping
down.
Stooping down—and to what? Why, upon my word and honor, to a great brass plate on the
floor, over which they were passing, and on which was engraven the figure of a bishop—
and a very ugly bishop, too—with crosier and mitre, and lifted finger, on which sparkled
the episcopal ring. "Do, my dear lord, come and marry us," said the lady, with a levity
which shocked the feelings of her bridegroom.
The bishop got up; and directly he rose, a dean, who was sleeping under a large slate near
him, came bowing and cringing up to him; while a canon of the cathedral (whose name was
Schidnischmidt) began grinning and making fun at the pair. The ceremony was begun, and .
. . .
As the clock struck twelve, young Otto bounded up, and remarked the absence of his
companion Wolfgang. The idea he had had, that his friend disappeared in company with a
white-robed female, struck him more and more. "I will follow them," said he; and, calling
to the next on the watch (old Snozo, who was right unwilling to forego his sleep), he rushed
away by the door through which he had seen Wolfgang and his temptress take their way.