and the white shadow, motionless, erect, within it, amid a court of cardinals and diplomats.

As for the mass that followed, it had its moments of beauty for the girl's wondering or shrinking curiosity, but also its moments of weariness and disillusion.

From the latticed choir-gallery, placed against one of the great piers of the dome, came unaccompanied music--fine, pliant, expressive--like a single voice moving freely in the vast space; and at the High Altar, Cardinals and Bishops crossed and recrossed, knelt and rose, offered and put off the mitre; amid wreaths of incense, long silences, a few chanted words; sustained, enfolded all the while by the swelling tide of _Gloria_, or _Sanctus_.
At last--the elevation!--and at the bell the whole long double line of soldiers, from the Pope's chair at the western end to the eastern door, with a rattle of arms that ran from end to end of the church, dropped on one knee--saluted.

Then, crac!--and as they had dropped, they rose, the stiff white breeches and towering helmets of the Guardia Nobile, the red and yellow of the Swiss, the red and blue of the Papal guards--all motionless as before.

It was like the movement of some gigantic toy.