His desire had been gratified. The people carried him in their arms to the
organ-loft. The mass began.

Twelve struck on the cathedral clock.

The introit came, then the Gospel, then the offertory, and the moment
arrived when the priest, after consecrating the sacred wafer, took it in
his hands and began to elevate it. A cloud of incense filled the church in
bluish undulations. The little bells rang out in vibrating peals, and
Maese Perez placed his aged fingers upon the organ keys.

The multitudinous voices of the metal tubes gave forth a prolonged and
majestic chord, which died away little by little, as if a gentle breeze
had borne away its last echoes.

To this opening burst, which seemed like a voice lifted up to heaven from
earth, responded a sweet and distant note, which went on swelling and
swelling in volume until it became a torrent of overpowering harmony. It
was the voice of the angels, traversing space, and reaching the world.

Then distant hymns began to be heard, intoned by the hierarchies of
seraphim; a thousand hymns at once, mingling to form a single one, though
this one was only an accompaniment to a strange melody which seemed to
float above that ocean of mysterious echoes, as a strip of fog above the
waves of the sea.

One song after another died away. The movement grew simpler. Now only two
voices were heard, whose echoes blended. Then but one remained, and alone
sustained a note as brilliant as a thread of light. The priest bowed his