from writings of the
time, it may be fairly inferred that Saint-Pierre was a Cathedral of the
type of Avignon and Cavaillon and the old Marseillaise Church of La
Majeure, and that, architecturally considered, it was a far more
important structure than Saint-Siffrein. With this depressing knowledge
in mind the traveller was confronted with a sight as depressing--the
present Cathedral itself.

Fortunately, churches of a period antedating the XVII century are seldom
so uninteresting. Nothing more meagre nor dreary can be conceived than
the facade with its three, poor, characterless portals. They open on a
large vaulted hall, with chapels in its six bays and a small and narrow
choir. The principal charm of the interior is negative; its dim misty
light, by concealing a mass of tasteless decorations and the poverty and
bareness of the whole architectural scheme, gives to the generous height
and size of the room an atmosphere of subdued and mysterious
spaciousness. The south door is the one bit of this Gothic which passes
the commonplace. Set in a poor, plain wall, the portal has a graceful
symmetry of design; and its few carved details, probably limited by the
artistic power of its builder, are so simple and chaste that they do not
inevitably suggest poverty of conception. The tympanum holds an exotic
detail, a defaced and insignificant fresco of the Coronation of the
Virgin; and on the pier which divides the door-way stands a very
charming statue of Our Lady of Snows, blessing those who enter beneath
her outstretched hands.

This simple portal, and indeed the whole church, is a significant
example of Provencal Gothic, a style so foreign to the genius of the
province that it could produce only feeble and attenuated examples of
the art. Compared with its northern prototypes, it is surprisingly
tentative; and awkward, unaccustomed hands seem to have built it after
most primitive conceptions.

[Sidenote: Digne.]

Well outside the Alpine city of Digne, and almost surrounded by graves,
stands a small and ancient church which is seldom opened except for the
celebration of Masses for the Dead. Coffin-rests stand always before the
altar, and enough chairs for the few that mourn. There are old
candlesticks for the tapers of the church's poor, and hidden in the
shadows of the doors, a few broken crosses that once marked graves,
placed, tenderly perhaps, above those who were alive some years ago and
who now rest forgotten; on bat