Everything in this
wonderful place appealed to his imagination. There were great rows of
massive columns, symbol of a strength eternal, and they seemed like
wide-open arms holding out a welcome to the human race. There were
statues and paintings by great masters in art. The light of the sun
poured in through many-colored windows, on which were blazoned the
deeds of heroes and saints. Strains of music from the great organ in
the distance floated out upon the air. Touched and thrilled by all he
saw, Gaspard exclaimed to himself: "The place on which I stand is
holy ground."
[Sidenote: Kyrie Eleison]
Soon, however, he perceived that the throngs of people were not
lingering, like himself, in awe and wonder over the great columns and
the dome, and the statues, and the paintings, and the windows. Their
eyes were fixed intently upon something that was going on in the far
end of the cathedral. An altar was there, and priests in white robes
passing up and down before it, and tall tapers burning around it. Near
the altar was the image of a man hanging from a cross; his hands and
feet were pierced with nails, and a cruel wound was in his side. The
people were gazing at this altar, and at the image, and at what the
white-robed priests were doing. The strains of solemn music from the
organ blended with the voices of priests chanting the service.
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