air one realised that all civil life was suspended, as
if God had left His house, and everyone was awaiting His return before
resuming their daily occupations. Opposite them the blue draperies of
the silversmith, and the red curtains of the wax-chandler, still barred
the interior of their shops and hid the contents from view. The streets
seemed empty; there was no reverberation from one to the other, except
that of the slow march of the clergy, whose progress could easily be
realised from every corner of the town.

"Mother! mother! I assure you that now they are at the corner of the Rue
Magloire. They will soon come up the hill."

She was mistaken, for it was only half-past six, and the procession
never came back before a quarter-past seven. She should have known well,
had she not been over-impatient, that the canopy must be only at the
lower wharf of the Ligneul. But she was too excited to think.

"Oh! mother dear! _do_ hurry, or we may not find any places."

"Come, make haste then, little one," at last Hubertine said, smiling in
spite of herself. "We shall certainly be obliged to wait a great while,
but never mind."

"As for me, I will remain at home," said Hubert. "I can take down and
put away the embroidered panels, and then I will set the table for
dinner."

The church seemed empty to them, as the Blessed Sacrament was no longer
there. All the doors were wide open, like those of a house in complete
disorder, where one is awaiting the return of the master. Very few
persons came in; the great altar alone, a sarcophagus of severe
Romanesque style, glittered as if burning at the end of the nave,
covered as it was with stars from the flame of many candles; all
the rest of the enormous building--the aisles, the chapels, and the
arches--seemed filled with shadow under the coming-on of the evening
darkness.

Slowly, in order to gain a little patience, Angelique and Hubertine
walked round the edifice. Low down, it seemed as if crushed, thickset
columns supported the semicircular arches of the side-aisles. They
walked the whole length of the dark chapels, which were buried almost
as if they were crypts. Then, when they crossed over, before the great
entrance portal, under the triforium of the organ, they had a feeling of
deliverance as they raised their eyes towards the high, Gothic windows
of the nave, which shot up so gracefully above the heavy Romanesque
coursed work. But they continued by the southern side-aisle