Now, one morning, during the Christmas
holydays, he heard, before day, the tinkle of one of his bells
announcing a Mass. He rose immediately and ran to the window. The snow-
covered roofs enabled him to see objects so distinctly that he thought
the day was beginning to dawn. He hastened to put on his clothes and go
to the church. The total solitude and silence reigning all around him
made him understand that he was mistaken and that day was not yet
breaking. He tried to go into the church, however, but the door was
closed.
How, then, could he have heard the bell? If robbers had got in, they
would certainly have taken good care not to touch the bell. He listens;
not the slightest noise in the holy place. Should he return home? Not
so, for having heard the bell, he must go in.
He opens a little door leading into the sacristy; he passes through
that, and advances towards the choir.
By the light of the small lamp burning before the tabernacle and that
of a taper already lighted, he perceives, at the foot of the altar, a
priest robed in a chasuble, and in the attitude of a celebrant about to
commence Mass. All is prepared for the Holy Sacrifice. He stops in
dismay. The priest, a stranger to him, is extremely pale; his hands are
as white as his alb; his eyes shine like the glow-worm, the light going
forth, as it were, from the very centre of the orbits.
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