IF CHAPTER III. F St. Amable, who had such a sensitive nose that he struck a woman dead, says the legend, for burning bad oil in her lamp,—if St. Amable had entered Le Puy on this particular marketday, or on any other day of the year, his olfactory nerves would have received a shock which he might have taken a very unsaintly method of resenting. This old cathedral-town, breathed upon on every side by the breezy mountain air, with every facility of drainage that a good fall could bestow, was then, as now, only one of the many illustrations that God made the country and man made the town ; God put within reach of the inhabitants everything that was needful for ventilation, and sweetness, and wholesomeness; and man chose to neglect, pervert, and abuse the same, to that extent, that the senses of the inhabitants be coming deadened and depraved by the constant nuisances among which they drew their daily breath, had grown absolutely indifferent to the abominable odours they inhaled in their pent-up streets. These streets, or alleys, were paved with great, irregular blocks of lava, over which horses, bullocks, and smaller quadrupeds stumbled and slipped with sore discomfort till they reached the market-place-"La Place de Breuil." Both streets and square were filled to overflowing with townsfolk and market-people; women mounted astride on great, heavy farm horses laden with panniers, or driving mules and asses bearing poultry-coops, their sun-burnt, lively faces enclosed in snowy frilled caps, and overtopped by jaunty little flat beaver hats, with nodding plumes and gold sprays or buckles, their shrilly voices screaming to their companions from one end of the street to the other; men, lugging at their horses' mouths, or pricking on their cattle with goads, jostling, hallooing, swearing; children crying, singing, beating drums, blowing horns and whistles; vendors of cakes, fruit, and vegetables crying their commodities; sellers of relics, rosa ries, crucifixes, and pictures, carrying on a brisk competition in booths and stalls, on steps and in corners of churches and houses; pedlars, jugglers, and peep-show men; begging friars; church-bells clanging, the heavy cathedral clock striking; ballad-singers and guitar-players; these and many more contributors to the general hubbub and confusion, caused poor Michel to look completely stupified, and even Colette to feel bewildered. As they advanced up the precipitous alleys, their party gradually lessened and broke up. Bertrand gratefully bade them farewell, saying he should spend some time in the town and probably meet them again: Grégoire and his son proceeded to the market, after leaving their baggage in safeguard at a small hostelry where they were known; Christophe followed their example; and Gabrielle, remaining with the household stuff, cheerfully bade Colette farewell, saying she should look about for winter quarters without delay, and soon let Colette know where they were to be found. Colette then proceeded with Michel on foot towards the upper part of the town, which is too steep to be ever invaded by sound of wheel or hoof, and the deathlike stillness of which presents a singular contrast to the life and uproar below. Michel clung fast to her hand, looking alarmed at being jostled and shoved about by the townspeople, till, at the upper end of the alley, they suddenly came out upon the venerable cathedral, when he uttered a cry of joy and surprise, and drew Colette back to look at it. She led him up the long flights of stone steps, disfigured by booths and stalls covered with medallions, pictures, and images of the famous "black Virgin," to the vast vaulted porch, beneath which they stood and reverently looked in at the inner door, supported on noble columns of porphyry. A rich odour of incense was stealing forth, and the faint sounds of sacred music issued from the choir. Colette reverently crossed herself as she thought how this cathedral was said to have been consecrated by the angels themselves; and how, when the bishop and his train first entered it, they heard celestial hymnings, from unseen psalmodists, pouring from the choir, and perceived the air to be perfumed with heavenly incense. Michel would fain have entered, but she softly D said, "Another time," and led him away. As they departed, an ecclesiastic passed her, who stared at her so rudely that she thought "that man is not worthy of his office," and felt pained to have her chain of devout thoughts so broken. The relic-vendors importuned her noisily as she passed : "Buy a chaplet, my pretty maiden! Buy this image of our blessed Lady, the fac-simile, in little, of that holy image made by the prophet Jeremiah, and presented to our cathedral by King Dagobert." "Not by Dagobert, you ignoramus!” cried an opposition vendor, "but by Haroun al Raschid !" 66 'By neither," shouted a third, lower down the steps, "but by Louis the Young!" You are all out," cried a fourth; "it was Philip Augustus !" It was none of them," shouted a fifth; "it was St. Louis!" At this moment, the clatter of horse-shoes on the rough pavement was immediately succeeded by the apparition of a wild-looking little man with a bushy red beard, mounted on a superb charger, from which he threw himself and flung the reins |