aware that the trees around me were losing their color, and turning
by imperceptible degrees into stone. In nothing was their form
or position altered; only a cold, grey hue overspread them, and
the intervening spaces between their stems became filled up, as
though by a cloud which gradually grew substantial. Presently I
raised my eyes, and lo! overhead were the arches of a vast cathedral,
spanning the sky and hiding it from my sight. The tree stems had
become tall columns of grey stone; and their plumed tops, the carven
architraves and branching spines of Gothic sculpture. The incense
rolled in great dense clouds to their outstretching arms, and,
breaking against them, hung in floating, fragrant wreaths about
their carven sprays. Looking downwards to the altar, I found it
covered with flowers and plants and garlands, in the midst of which
stood a great golden crucifix, and I turned to my guide wishing
to question him, but he had disappeared, and I could not find him.
Then a vast crowd of worshipers surrounded me, a priest before the
altar raised the pyx and the patten in his hands. The people fell
on their knees, and bent their heads, as a great field of corn over
which a strong wind passes. I knelt with the rest, and adored with
them in silence.

--Paris, July 1877





VIII. The Enchanted Woman*