From the west door, a flight of fifteen steps leads down into the nave, so that on entering, the appearance of the church is almost that of a magnificent crypt. On the 15th of August, in the afternoon, the church presented an imposing spectacle. Eight parishes had united to visit the shrine, and supplicate the protection of the Blessed Virgin. The day had been hitherto very fine, and the sight enjoyed from the churchyard of the processions arriving from different quarters, in the bright sunshine, had been singularly beautiful. Each parish procession was headed by its banner; the clergy, by crucifix and candles. Various confraternities, with their insignia, united to give picturesqueness to the scene. From the interior of the church the effect was striking, as the line,--endless it seemed,--rippled down the flight of western steps, with tapers twinkling and coloured banners waving; whilst the organ thundered, and the people shouted the refrain of a penitential litany. The illumined figures in the yard contrasted with those in shadow, as they flowed through the portal: this was especially noticeable when a band of girls in white, with white veils, and lighted taper in hand, preceded by their white banner emblazoned with a representation of the Assumption, moved through the doorway. The leading ribbons of this banner were held by two maidens in white; one of these was Gabrielle, and her appearance in this pure garb was most beautiful. A wreath of white roses encircled her head, and clasped the muslin veil to her temples. As the shadow of the arch fell upon her, a slight puff of wind extinguished her candle, but on reaching the foot of the steps a taper was held towards her, and she was about to re-light hers at the flame, when, raising her eyes, she encountered those of M. Berthier, who, with a smirk, proffered her his burning candle. She shrank away, and kindled her light at the candle of a girl who followed her. M. Berthier was in company with an old gentleman, very thin, with a hatchet face, white hair, and black eyes active and brilliant. He was dressed in an old brown riding-coat, with high collar, over which protruded a short wiry pig-tail, fastened with a large bow. He took snuff, at intervals of a few minutes, from a large gold box; and he took it in a peculiar manner, not from his fingers but from the palm of his hand, into which he shook the tobacco dust, and from which he drew it into his nostrils by applying the palm to his face. This method of snuffing might be economical, but it was ungainly and dirty, for it left crumbs of tobacco upon the lips, nose, and cheeks of the old man. ‘That is the wench,’ said Berthier, after he had politely returned the taper, which he had unceremoniously snatched from the hand of a peasant, that he might offer it to Gabrielle. ‘A pretty little darling,’ the old man replied. ‘Is this the third flame this year, and we only in August? Bah! my lad, you are positively shocking.’