A sense of intolerable calamity fell upon me. I said to myself:

"That was Man! And the other was God! And they have parted!"

Then the multitude of bells hidden in the lace-work of the high
tower began to sound. It was not the aerial fluttering music of
the carillon that I remembered hearing long ago from the belfries
of the Low Countries. This was a confused and strident ringing,
jangled and broken, full of sudden tumults and discords, as if the
tower were shaken and the bells gave out their notes at hazard, in
surprise and trepidation.

It stopped as suddenly as it began. The great bell of the hours
struck twelve. The windows of the cathedral glowed faintly with a
light from within.

"It is New Year's Eve," I thought--although I knew perfectly well
that the time was late summer. I had seen that though the leaves
on the trees of the square were no longer fresh, they had not yet
fallen.

I was certain that I must go into the cathedral. The western
entrance was shut. I hurried to the south side. The dark, low door
of the transept was open. I went in. The building was dimly lighted
by huge candles which flickered and smoked like torches. I noticed
that one of them, fastened against a pillar, was burning crooked,
and the tallow ran down its side in thick white tears.

The nave of the church was packed with a vast throng of people,
all standing, closely crowded together, like the undergrowth in