Already people are standing on their seats looking down on the rapidly filling church.

In press the less favoured thousands from the Piazza, through the Atrium and the Eastern door--great sea of human life spreading over the illimitable nave behind the two lines of Swiss and Papal Guards, in quick never-ending waves that bewilder and dazzle the eye.
Lucy found the three hours' wait but a moment.

The passing and re-passing of the splendid officials in their Tudor or Valois dress; the great names, 'Colonna,' 'Barberini,' 'Savelli,' 'Borghese' that sound about her, as Mrs.
Burgoyne who knows everybody, at least by sight, laughs and points and chats with her neighbour, Mr.Neal; the constant welling up of processions from behind,--the Canons and Monsignori in their fur and lace tippets, the red Cardinals with their suites; the entry of the Guardia Nobile, splendid, incredible, in their winged Achillean helmets above their Empire uniforms--half Greek, half French, half gods, half dandies, the costliest foolishest plaything that any court can show; and finally as the time draws on, the sudden thrills and murmurs that run through the church, announcing the great moment which still, after all, delays: these things chase the minutes, blot out, the sense of time.
Meanwhile, again and again, Lucy, the sedate, the self-controlled, cannot prevent herself from obeying a common impulse with those about her--from leaping on her chair--straining her white throat--her eyes.

Then a handsome chamberlain would come by, lifting a hand in gentle protest, motioning to the ladies--'De grace, mesdames--mesdames, de _grace_!--' Or angry murmurs would rise from those few who had not the courage or the agility to mount--'_Giu! giu!_--Descendez, mesdames!--qu'est-ce que c'est done que ces manieres ?'--and Lucy, crimson and abashed, would descend in haste, only to find a kind Irish priest behind smiling at her,--prompting her,--'Never mind them!--take no notice!--who is it you're harmin' ?'--And her excitement would take him at his word--for who should know if not a priest?
And from these risky heights she looked down sometimes on Manisty--wondering where was emotion, sympathy.

Not a trace of them! Of all their party he alone was obviously and hideously bored by the long wait.