"In short, this church is the finest expression of art bequeathed to us by the Middle Ages. The great front has neither the awful majesty of that of Reims, pierced as it is with tracery, nor the dull melancholy of Notre Dame de Paris, nor the gigantic grace of Amiens, nor the massive solemnity of Bourges; but it is full of imposing simplicity, a lightness, a spring, which no other cathedral has attained to. "The nave of Amiens alone grows beautifully less as it rises with as eager a spring from the earth; but the body of the Amiens church is light and uncomforting, and that of Chartres is mysterious and hushed; of all cathedrals it is that which best suggests the idea of a delicate, saintly woman, emaciated by prayer, and almost transparent by fasting. "And then its windows are matchless, superior even to those of Bourges, where, again, the sanctuary blossoms with glorious clumps of holy persons. And finally, the sculpture of the west front, the Royal Portal, is the most beautiful, the most superterrestrial statuary ever wrought by the hand of man. "And it is almost unique in having none of the woeful and threatening solemnity of its noble sisters. Scarce a demon is to be seen watching and grinning on its walls to torture souls; in a few small figures it shows indeed the variety of penance, but that is all; and within, the Virgin is above all else the Mother of Bethlehem. Jesus, too, is more or less Her Child; He yields to Her when she entreats Him. "It proclaims the plenitude of Her patience and charity by the length of the crypt and the breadth of the nave, which are greater than those of other churches. "In fact, it is the mystical cathedral--that where the Madonna is most graciously ready to receive the sinner. "Now," said Durtal, looking at his watch, "the Abbe Gevresin must have finished his breakfast. It is time to take leave of him before joining the Abbe Plomb at the station." He crossed the forecourt of the palace and rang at the priest's door. "So you are sure you are going!" said Madame Bavoil, who opened the door, and admitted him to her master. "Well, yes--" "I envy you," sighed the Abbe, "for you will be present at wonderful services and hear admirable music." "I hope so. And if only that could relieve the tension, could release me a little from this incoherent frame of mind in which I wander, and allow me to feel at home once more in my own soul and not in a strange place open to all the winds!--" "Ah, your soul wants locks and latches," said Madame Bavoil, laughing. "It is a public mart where every distraction meets to chatter. I am constantly driven out, and when I want to go home again they are in possession." "Oh, I quite understand that. You know the proverb, 'Who goes hunting loses his seat by the hearth.'" "That is all very well to say, but--"