And others who had beds awaiting them lingered there for the
joy of passing a whole night in that divine abode, so full of beautiful
dreams. Until daylight the concourse and promiscuity were extraordinary;
every row of benches was occupied, sleeping persons were scattered in
every corner and behind every pillar; men, women, children were leaning
against each other, their heads on one another's shoulders, their breath
mingling in calm unconsciousness. It was the break-up of a religious
gathering overwhelmed by sleep, a church transformed into a chance
hospital, its doors wide open to the lovely August night, giving access
to all who were wandering in the darkness, the good and the bad, the
weary and the lost. And all over the place, from each of the fifteen
altars, the bells announcing the elevation of the Host incessantly
sounded, whilst from among the mob of sleepers bands of believers now and
again arose, went and received the sacrament, and then returned to mingle
once more with the nameless, shepherdless flock which the semi-obscurity
enveloped like a veil.
With an air of restless indecision, Pierre was still wandering through
the shadowy groups, when an old priest, seated on the step of an altar,
beckoned to him. For two hours he had been waiting there, and now that
his turn was at length arriving he felt so faint that he feared he might
not have strength to say the whole of his mass, and preferred, therefore,
to surrender his place to another.
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