Though 'twas midnight, the great church was filled with
a throng of worshippers, who knelt and rose and knelt again as mass
proceeded. From the altar rose clouds of incense from censers swung by
acolytes; now and then could be heard the tinkle of a silver bell at the
Elevation of the Host and the voice of the priest, monotonous and
indistinct, in that vast edifice. Lights twinkled, the air grew heavy
with incense, and great bursts of music rolled from the organ-loft.
'Twas a magnificent ceremonial, and Mr. Morris and Calvert came away
thrilled and awed. They made their way out by the old rue St. Louis and
the Quai des Orfevres, and, keeping still to the left bank of the Seine,
did not cross until they came to the Pont Royal. From the bridge they
could see far down the river and the lights of Paris on both sides of
the water. A feathery sprinkling of snow, which had fallen in the
afternoon, lay over everything; but the rack of clouds which had brought
it had blown away, and the night was frosty and starlit. A tremulous
excitement and unrest seemed to be in the keen air.
"Tis a doomed city, I think, and we are better away," said Mr.
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