reaching the chapel that he recognised an
organ peal. The sunlight here filtered through red curtains drawn before
the windows, and thus the chapel glowed like a furnace whilst resounding
with the grave music. But in that huge pile all became so slight, so
weak, that at sixty paces neither voice nor organ could be distinguished.

On entering the basilica Pierre had fancied that it was quite empty and
lifeless. There were, however, some people there, but so few and far
between that their presence was not noticed. A few tourists wandered
about wearily, guide-book in hand. In the grand nave a painter with his
easel was taking a view, as in a public gallery. Then a French seminary
went by, conducted by a prelate who named and explained the tombs. But in
all that space these fifty or a hundred people looked merely like a few
black ants who had lost themselves and were vainly seeking their way. And
Pierre pictured himself in some gigantic gala hall or tremendous
vestibule in an immeasurable palace of reception. The broad sheets of
sunlight streaming through the lofty square windows of plain white glass
illumined the church with blending radiance. There was not a single stool
or chair: nothing but the superb, bare pavement, such as you might find
in a museum, shining mirror-like under the dancing shower of sunrays. Nor
was there a single corner for solitary reflection, a nook of gloom and
mystery, where one might kneel and pray. In lieu thereof the sumptuous,
sovereign dazzlement of broad daylight prevailed upon every side. And, on
thus suddenly finding himself in this deserted opera-house, all aglow
with flaring gold and purple, Pierre could but remember the quivering
gloom of the Gothic cathedrals of France, where dim crowds sob and
supplicate amidst a forest of pillars. In presence of all this ceremonial
majesty--this huge, empty pomp, which was all Body--he recalled with a
pang the emaciate architecture and statuary of the middle ages, which
were all Soul. He vainly sought for some poor, kneeling woman, some
creature swayed by faith or suffering, yielding in a modest half-light to
thoughts of the unknown, and with closed lips holding communion with the
invisible. These he found not: there was but the weary wandering of the
tourists, and the bustle of the prelates conducting the young priests to
the obligatory stations; while the vesper service continued in the
left-hand chapel, nought of it reaching the ears of the visitors