stood upon tiptoe to make himself even slighter than he was and thus to
widen the way, and the Wanderer found himself, after repeated efforts,
as much as two steps distant from his former position. He was still
trying to divide the crowd when the music suddenly ceased, and the
tones of the organ died away far up under the western window. It was the
moment of the Elevation, and the first silvery tinkling of the bell,
the people swayed a little, all those who were able kneeling, and those
whose movements were impeded by the press of worshippers bending towards
the altar as a field of grain before the gale. The Wanderer turned again
and bowed himself with the rest, devoutly and humbly, with half-closed
eyes, as he strove to collect and control his thoughts in the presence
of the chief mystery of his Faith. Three times the tiny bell was rung, a
pause followed, and thrice again the clear jingle of the metal broke the
solemn stillness. Then once more the people stirred, and the soft sound
of their simultaneous motion was like a mighty sigh breathed up from the
secret vaults and the deep foundations of the ancient church; again the
pedal note of the organ boomed through the nave and aisles, and again
the thousands of human voices took up the strain of song.

The Wanderer glanced about him, measuring the distance he must traverse
to reach the monument of the Danish astronomer and confronting it with
the short time which now remained before the end of the Mass. He saw
that in such a throng he would have no chance of gaining the position he
wished to occupy in less than half an hour, and he had not but a
scant ten minutes at his disposal. He gave up the attempt therefore,
determining that when the celebration should be over he would move
forward with the crowd, trusting to his superior stature and energy
to keep him within sight of the woman he sought, until both he and she
could meet, either just within or just without the narrow entrance of
the church.