followed his
example, such power was there in his simple and persuasive words. At this
moment, a singular incident added to the grandeur of the scene. We have
said that a few seconds before the quarryman and his band entered the
body of the church, several persons had fled from it. Two of these had
taken refuge in the organ-loft, from which retreat they had viewed the
preceding scene, themselves remaining invisible. One of these persons was
a young man charged with the care of the organ, and quite musician enough
to play on it. Deeply moved by the unexpected turn of an event which at
first appeared so tragical, and yielding to an artistical inspiration,
this young man, at the moment when he saw the people kneeling with
Gabriel, could not forbear striking the notes. Then a sort of harmonious
sigh, at first almost insensible, seemed to rise from the midst of this
immense cathedral, like a divine aspiration. As soft and aerial as the
balmy vapor of incense, it mounted and spread through the lofty arches.
Little by little the faint, sweet sounds, though still as it were
covered, changed to an exquisite melody, religious, melancholy, and
affectionate, which rose to heaven like a song of ineffable gratitude and
love. And the notes were at first so faint, so covered, that the kneeling
multitude had scarcely felt surprise, and had yielded insensibly to the
irresistible influence of that enchanting harmony.

Then many an eye, until now dry and ferocious, became wet with
tears--many hard hearts beat gently, as they remembered the words
pronounced by Gabriel with so tender an accent: "Love ye one another!" It
was at this moment that Father d'Aigrigny came to himself--and opened his
eyes. He thought himself under the influence of a dream. He had lost his
senses in sight of a furious populace, who, with insult and blasphemy on
their lips, pursued him with cries of death even to the sanctuary of the
temple. He opened his eyes--and, by the pale light of the sacred lamps,
to the solemn music of the organ, he saw that crowd, just now so menacing
and implacable, kneeling in mute and reverential emotion, and humbly
bowing their heads before the majesty of the shrine.

Some minutes after, Gabriel, carried almost in triumph on the shoulders
of the crowd, entered the coach, in which Father d'Aigrigny, who by
degrees had completely recovered his senses, was already reclining. By
the order of the Jesuit, the coach stopped before the door of a