What makes the Mussulman pilgrimage essentially different to any other, is the absence of those innumerable chapels, whose narrow arches imprison souls, hampering them as they soar towards the Creator and holding them back on earth at the mercy of the clergy. Here are no fetishes, such as statuettes or miraculous icons, surrounded by their procession of votive offerings; nor that multitude of saints, their worship taking the place of that of the "Eternal," generally neglected on these occasions. There are also none of those monks clad in varied gowns, all jealous of each other; quarrelling over pilgrims and religious resorts for the greater glory of their sect or order. At Makkah, prayers are said in the vast quadrangular courtyard surrounding the Ka'bah; the ethereal vault of heaven takes the place of the masonry work of chapel roofs and, purified from all its mists, it opens to souls thirsting for ideal good, its lapis-lazuli depths, more vertiginous here than in any other part of the world. At Makkah, nothing is worshipped except Allah, the Chosen One, and pilgrims seek the remembrance of Abraham and Mohammad for no other reason than to strengthen the fervour of their faith by following the Prophet's example. They never pray to these Prophets in the same way as Christians adore their saints; on the contrary, Moslems pray to Allah for their prophets. The gates of the Ka'bah enclosure are open day and night. The pilgrim hurries there as soon as he gets to Makkah. At the sight of the temple draped in black, the object of his unceasing thoughts during the severe ordeals of the journey, in the midst of sandstorms or tempest-tossed, he is overtaken by such emotion that in this moment of superhuman ecstasy, he wishes his soul to be snatched away. Sobbing, his breast heaving fitfully, under the influence of remorse, his face convulsed by shame, he approaches the Black Stone to kiss it, exclaiming: 'O Allah! pardon me my sins; free my being from their burden and purify my heart, O Thou, the most Merciful among the Compassionate!' When the hour of prayer is called by the Muazzin, the spacious quadrangle is invaded by a veritable sea of Believers; their hurrying waves scarcely leaving in the serried ranks the needful space for prostration. Following one of the "Takbirs" of the Imam, said after him in an immense sigh escaping simultaneously from every breast, a great swell passes over all the Faithful, causing every head to be bowed, like billows breaking.