The round pillars of the choir are double, as at Canterbury and Senlis. The apsis is half a duodecagon. The pointed windows above are in two lancet divisions, surmounted by a trefoil; but the dividing masonry is not a mullion: it is the unperforated part of the wall. This perhaps is arabesque. There is a second arch within, which is really divided by a mullion or small pillar. A curious leaf projects above. Some of the painted glass is in the oldest style: dispersed patterns in a black outline, on a grey ground. In a side-chapel are painted tiles, brown and yellow as usual, displaying knots and armorial bearings. In the same chapel are fresco paintings: many more are on the east side of the wall that divides the last choir-aisle from the south transept. They represent St. Michael and the Devil, the Deity between angels, &c. In all of them, the outline is formed by a thick black line." PLATE XCV. AND XCVI. MOUNT ST. MICHAEL. [Illustration: Plate 95. MOUNT ST. MICHAEL. _On the approach from Pontorson._] Religion, history, poetry, and painting, have all united in giving celebrity to St. Michael's Mount. The extraordinary sanctity of its monastery, the striking peculiarities of its form and situation, and the importance acquired by the many sieges it supported, or the almost endless pilgrimages it received, have so endeared it to the man of taste and the philosopher, that scarcely a spot is to be found in Europe, more generally known, or more universally interesting. The legendary mist with which St. Michael's Mount is now densely involved, has continued, from a period of remote antiquity, to float around its summit. Tradition delights in relating how, in times prior to the Christian æra, it was devoted to the worship of the great luminary of heaven, under his Gallic name of Belenus,[213] a title probably derived from the Hebrew Baal, and the Assyrian Belus. The same tradition recounts how, at a more recent epoch, it reared its majestic head, embosomed in a spacious tract of woods and thickets, while the hermits who had fixed themselves upon its summits, received their daily bread from the charity of the priest of the neighboring parish of Beauvoir; an ass spontaneously undertaking the office of conveying it to them, till on the road he fell a prey to a wolf, who was then constrained by Providence to devote himself to the same pious labor.