or lower chapel, where many people are kneeling before the sacred
images, the gloom, the silence, the bent figures dimly seen in the
faint yellow light of a few tapers, make up a weird scene all the
morning till about nine o'clock, when the relic, in its 'châsse,'
or tabernacle, is carried to the Cathedral of St. Sauveur, and
placed on the high altar, while a pontifical Mass is celebrated
by one of the Bishops. When that is done, the procession starts
on its march along the chief thoroughfares of the town. The houses
are decorated with flags, and candles burn in almost every window.
Through the narrow streets, between crowds of people standing on
the pavements or looking down from the windows, while the church
bells ring and wreaths of incense fill the air, bands of music,
squadrons of cavalry, crucifixes, shrines, images, the banners
of the parishes and the guilds, heralds in their varied dresses,
bareheaded pilgrims from England, France, and other countries,
pages, maidens in white, bearing palms, or crowns of thorn, or
garlands, priests with relics, acolytes and chanting choristers,
pass slowly along. The buffoonery of the Middle Ages, when giants,
ballet-dancers, and mythological characters figured in the scene,
has been abandoned; but Abraham and Isaac, King David and King
Solomon, Joseph and the Virgin Mary, the Magi, and many saints
and martyrs, walk in the long procession, which is closed by the
Bishops and clergy accompanying the gorgeous shrine containing
the small tube of something red like blood, before which all the
people sink to the ground, and remain kneeling till it has passed.

The proceedings of the day end with a benediction at an altar erected
in front of the Hôtel de Ville. The Bourg is filled from side to side
with those who have taken part in the procession, and by thousands
of spectators who have followed them from all parts of the town to