nd arches, while
above, the numbers of little columns grew smaller and smaller as they
burst forth among the broken arches of the ogives, like an inexpressible
declaration of faith and love which seemed to come from the lights.
In the centre, under the roof, along the ribs of the nave, there was
a yellow cloud, a thick colour of wax, from the multitude of little
tapers.

But now, above the sound of feet and the moving of chairs, one heard
again the falling of the chains of the censers. Then the organ pealed
forth majestically, a glorious burst of music that filled to overflowing
the highest arches as if with the rumbling of thunder. It was at this
instant that Monseigneur arrived on the Place du Cloitre. The statue of
Saint Agnes had reached the apse, still borne by the surpliced clerks,
and her face looked very calm under the light, as if she were more than
happy to return to her dreams of four centuries. At last, preceded by
the crosier, and followed by the mitre, Monseigneur entered with his
deacons under the canopy, still having his two hands covered with a
white scarf, and holding the Blessed Sacrament in the same position
as at first. The canopy, which was borne down the central aisle, was
stopped at the railing of the choir, and there, on account of a certain
unavoidable confusion, the Bishop was for a moment made to approach the
persons who formed his suite. Since Felicien had reappeared, Angelique
had looked at him constantly. It so happened that on account of the
pressure he was placed a little at the right of the canopy, and at that
moment she saw very near together the white head of Monseigneur and the
blonde head of the young man. That glance was a revelation; a sudden
light came to her eyes; she joined her hands together as she said aloud:

"Oh! Monseigneur, the son of Monseigneur!"

Her secret escaped her. It was an involuntary cry, the certainty which
revealed itself in this sudden fact of their resemblance. Perhaps, in
the depths of her mind, she already knew it, but she would never have
dared to have said so; whilst now it was self-evident, a fact of which
there could be no denial. From everything around her, from her own
soul, from inanimate objects, from past recollections, her cry seemed
repeated.

Hubertine, quite overcome, said in a whisper, "This young man is the son
of Monseigneur?"

Around these two the crowd had gradually accumulated. They were well
known and were greatly admired; the mo