"With these words he unlocked a wicket and conducted us toward the altar, close to which stands a small painted statue of Jeanne d'Arc. The east end of Notre Dame had up to this period suffered but little, and although some of the windows were damaged they were not lost beyond repair. The light still shone through in rays of dark blue and red, broken here and there by streaks of pure light. "Then our guide conducted us to the great cold stone body of the cathedral, where the Gothic pillars rise in sombre majesty, relieved by no ornamentation[32] until they hold aloft the blue masterpieces of the unknown artist. Here one of the strangest of spectacles met the eye. The whole of this vast vault was covered with dust half an inch thick, with chipped-off masonry, pieces of lead piping from the shattered windows, and with countless fragments of varied coloured glass. In the centre lay an ancient candelabrum which had hung for centuries from the roof suspended by a steel chain. That morning a fragment of shell had cut the chain in half and dropped its ancient burden to the hard stone floor beneath, where it lay bent and crumpled. "A great wave of sunshine lit up a sombre picture of carnage and suffering at the western end near the main entrance. Here on piles of straw lay the wounded Germans in all stages of suffering--their round shaven heads, thin cheeks, and bluish-grey uniforms contrasting strangely with the sombre black of the silent priests attending them, while in the background the red trousers of the French soldiers were just visible on the steps outside. Most of the wounded had dragged their straw behind the great Gothic pillars as if seeking shelter from their own shells. The priest conducted us to one of the aisles beneath the window where the shell had entered that morning. A great pool of blood lay there, staining the column just as the blood of Thomas à Becket must have stained the altar of Canterbury seven centuries before.