Ned knew that in great Catholic cathedrals, like the one of Mexico,
there were always side doors or little wickets used by priests or other
high officials of the church, and he was hoping to find one that he
could open. He passed half way around the building, feeling cautiously
along the cold stone. Once he saw a watchman with sombrero, heavy cloak
and lantern. He pressed into a niche, and the watchman went on his
automatic way, little thinking that anyone was near.
The boy continued his circuit and presently he found a wooden door,
which he could not force. A little further and he came to a second which
opened to his pressure. It was so small an entrance that he stooped as
he passed in. He shut it carefully behind him, and stood in what was
almost total darkness, until his eyes grew used to the gloom.
Then he saw that he was in a vast interior, Doric in architecture,
severe and simple. It was in the form of a Latin cross, with fluted
columns dividing the aisles from the nave. Above him rose a noble dome.
He could make out nothing more for the present. It was very still, very
imposing, and at another time he would have been awed, but now he had
found sanctuary. The cold and the snow were shut out and a grateful
warmth took their place.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50