After gazing for the last time at her pure loveliness, Paschal closed the sarcophagus with a marble slab, and then, with no less love and reverence, placed the bodies of her three heroes—Valerianus, Tiburtius, and Maximus—in another sarcophagus, “all together, but each wrapped in a separate winding sheet.” For St. Urban a third marble coffin was made, but—a little touch of human nature that brings a smile and a tear—Paschal feared he “might be lonely” in it, and brought the body of one of his martyred successors, Lucius, to lie beside him, though he is careful to tell us that they too had each “a separate winding sheet!” The three sarcophagi were placed below the High Altar in the Church now called St. Cecilia in Trastevere; a marble tablet, inscribed with a cross, the martyrs’ names, and the account of their sepulture in this spot, was duly placed near them, and then a strong circular wall was built all around and closed up, so that none could enter the tomb. But just above it, in the pavement of the Church, a small grating opened on a long funnel-like aperture through which, according to ancient custom, the Faithful could lower strips of linen to rest for a moment on the marble coffins, and then be withdrawn and carried away as precious souvenirs of the holy ones lying therein. The Church is one of the most interesting in Rome to the Catholic Pilgrim; as a well-known Protestant writer[19] says: “The traveller who tries to overlook Catholicity in his sightseeing in Rome, misses all that is most interesting to see.” Paschal lavished splendid gifts on the Church he so dearly loved. The chroniclers have left us minute descriptions of the gold and the silver, the marvellously embroidered vestments and hangings that he provided for it, and his successors adorned it with lovely paintings and mosaics as time went on, but the best offering of all was Paschal’s own. That Cecilia’s last wish might be carried out and “the praises of the Lord sound there forever,” he built and endowed a monastery close by and established there a choir of monks, who sang those praises night and day from that time forth. Then he passed away, to be greeted in Heaven by those whom he had so loved to honour upon earth. There had been many martyrs—so many that only the Angels could count them—but none greater, more glorious, more dear to God and beloved of men, than Cecilia.