who is now known to us chiefly, alas! as 'Le Mourant', was a
faithful servant of our Blessed Lord, why then it is as well with
him as with any of the holy martyrs. May his soul rest in peace!"

Stopping an instant at the next sculptural wonder in his way--the
elaborately designed tomb of Cardinal Amboise, concerning the
eternal fate of which "brother in Christ" the good Felix had no
scruples or fears whatever, he stepped softly down from the choir-
chapel where he had been wandering to and fro for some time in
solitary musings, and went towards the great central nave. It was
quite empty,--not even a weary silk-weaver, escaped from one of the
ever-working looms of the city, had crept in to tell her beads.
Broad, vacant, vast, and suggestive of a sublime desolation, the
grand length and width of the Latin Cross which shapes the holy
precincts, stretched into vague distance, one or two lamps were
burning dimly at little shrines set in misty dark recesses,--a few
votive candles, some lit, some smouldered out, leaned against each
other crookedly in their ricketty brass stand, fronting a battered
statue of the Virgin. The Angelus had ceased ringing some ten
minutes since,--and now one solemn bell, swinging high up in the
Cathedral towers, tolled forth the hour of six, slowly and with a
strong pulsating sound which seemed to shake the building down to
its very vaults and deep foundations. As the last stroke shivered
and thundered through the air, a strain of music, commencing softly,
then swelling into fuller melody, came floating from aloft,
following the great bell's vibration. Half way down the nave, just
as he was advancing slowly towards the door of egress, this music
overtook the Cardinal like an arresting angel, bringing him to a
sudden pause.