A multitude of the faithful was gathered there, kneeling on the
flags in front of the choir, which was screened by ironwork as delicate
as lace, and covered with admirably carved wood. The pulpit, the regal
present of a great lady, was a marvel of art cut in massive oak. The
baptismal fonts had been hewn out of hard stone by an artist of great
talent. Pictures by masters ornamented the walls. Crosses, pyxes,
precious monstrances, sacred vestments, similar to suns, were piled up in
the vestry cupboards. And what a dream it was to be the pontiff of such a
temple, to reign there after having erected it with passion, to bless the
crowds who hastened to it from the entire earth, while the flying peals
from the steeple told the Grotto and Basilica that they had over there,
in old Lourdes, a rival, a victorious sister, in whose great nave God
triumphed also!
After following the Rue Saint Pierre for a moment, Doctor Chassaigne and
his companion turned into the little Rue de Langelle.
"We are coming to it," said the doctor.
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