She remembered admiring in her childhood the pomps of the
Roman church so pleasing to the senses; but she knew nothing of God
/alone/, his cross on the altar, his altar the earth. In place of the
carved foliage of a Gothic cathedral, the autumnal trees upheld the
sky; instead of a thousand colors thrown through stained glass
windows, the sun could barely slide its ruddy rays and dull
reflections on altar, priest, and people. The men present were a fact,
a reality, and not a system,--it was a prayer, not a religion. But
human passions, the momentary repression of which gave harmony to the
picture, soon reappeared on this mysterious scene and gave it powerful
vitality.
As Mademoiselle de Verneuil reached the spot the reading of the gospel
was just over. She recognized in the officiating priest, not without
fear, the Abbe Gudin, and she hastily slipped behind a granite block,
drawing Francine after her. She was, however, unable to move
Galope-Chopine from the place he had chosen, and from which he intended
to share in the benefits of the ceremony; but she noticed the nature of
the ground around her, and hoped to be able to evade the danger by
getting away, when the service was over, before the priests. Through a
large fissure of the rock that hid her, she saw the Abbe Gudin
mounting a block of granite which served him as a pulpit, where he
began his sermon with the words,--
"/In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti/.
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