There were the laymen, the schools, the associations, the fraternities, whose banners, like sails, wavered for an instant, then suddenly vanished in the shade.
One saw again the pale "daughters of Mary," who, as they entered, still sang with their voices like those of seraphim.
The Cathedral had room for all.

The nave was slowly filled, the men being at the right and the women at the left.

But night had come.

The whole place outside was dotted with bright points, hundreds of moving lights, and soon it was the turn for the clergy, the tapers that were held outside the ranks making a double yellow cord as they passed through the door.

The tapers seemed endless as they succeeded each other and multiplied themselves; the great seminary, the parishes, and the Cathedral; the choristers still singing the anthem, and the canons in their white pluvials.