When the three travellers had gone a few
steps through a very narrow path a most surprising spectacle suddenly
unfolded itself to Mademoiselle de Verneuil's eyes, and made her
understand the obstinacy of her Chouan guide.
A semi-circular basin of granite blocks formed an ampitheatre, on the
rough tiers of which rose tall black pines and yellowing chestnuts,
one above the other, like a vast circus, where the wintry sun shed its
pale colors rather than poured its light, and autumn had spread her
tawny carpet of fallen leaves. About the middle of this hall, which
seemed to have had the deluge for its architect, stood three enormous
Druid stones,--a vast altar, on which was raised an old church-banner.
About a hundred men, kneeling with bared heads, were praying fervently
in this natural enclosure, where a priest, assisted by two other
ecclesiastics, was saying mass. The poverty of the sacerdotal
vestments, the feeble voice of the priest, which echoed like a murmur
through the open space, the praying men filled with conviction and
united by one and the same sentiment, the bare cross, the wild and
barren temple, the dawning day, gave the primitive character of the
earlier times of Christianity to the scene. Mademoiselle de Verneuil
was struck with admiration. This mass said in the depths of the woods,
this worship driven back by persecution to its sources, the poesy of
ancient times revived in the midst of this weird and romantic nature,
these armed and unarmed Chouans, cruel and praying, men yet children,
all these things resembled nothing that she had ever seen or yet
imagined.
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