upon the kneeling figure, forming a halo of glory round it. But she
did not heed, she did not see. She was as one in a trance,
insensible to outward vision. Once and again her lips moved, but we
heard no word proceed from them, only the rapt look upon her face
increased in intensity, and once I thought (for I could not turn my
gaze away) that I saw the gleam of tears in her eyes.

The bell ceased as we stood thus motionless, and as the last note
vibrated through the still air, a change came over the Maid. Her
head drooped, she hid her face in her hands, and thus she knelt as
one absorbed in an intensity of prayer. Even as this happened, the
peculiar glory of the sunlight seemed to change. It shone still,
but without such wonderful glow, and our horses at the same time
ceased their trembling and their rigid stillness of pose. They
shook their heads and jingled their bits, as though striving to
throw off some terrifying impression.

"Let us withdraw from her sight," whispered Bertrand touching my
arm, and very willingly I acceded to this suggestion, and we
silently pressed into the shadow of some great oaks, which stood
hard by, the trunks of which hid us well from view. It seemed
almost like a species of sacrilege to stand there watching the Maid
at her prayers, and yet I vow, that until the bell ceased we had no
more power to move than our horses. Why we were holden by this
strange spell I know not. I can only speak the truth. We saw
nothing and we heard nothing of any miraculous kind, and yet we
were like men in a dream, bound hand and foot by invisible bonds, a
witness of something unseen to ourselves, which we saw was visible
to another.