lidly enclosed
by its massive walls. Here in Gothic bays, are found those rounded,
longitudinal arches which belong to the Romanesque and to some structure
whose identity is buried in the mysterious past. The choir, with its
long, narrow windows, and clusters of columnettes, is very pleasing, and
its seven sides, foreign to Provence, remind one of Italian and Spanish
constructive forms and take one's memory on strange jaunts, to the
far-away Frari in Venice and the colder Abbey of London. From the choir
of Saint-Sauveur two chapels open; and one of them is a charming bit of
architecture, a replica in miniature of the mother-apse itself. The
paintings of this mother-apse are neutral, its glass has no claim to
sumptuousness, and the stalls are very unpretending; but above them hang
tapestries ascribed to Matsys, splendid hangings of the Flemish school
that were once in old Saint Paul's.

With these beautiful details the rich treasure-trove of the interior is
exhausted, and one passes out to study the details of the exterior. The
Cathedral's single tower, which rises behind the facade line, was one of
the parts that was longest neglected,--perhaps because a tower is less
essential to the ritual than any other portion of an ecclesiastical
building. Begun in 1323, the work dragged along with many periods of
absolute idleness, until 1880, when a balustrade with pinnacles at each
angle was added to the upper octagonal stage, and the building of the
tower was thus ended. The octagon with its narrow windows rests on a
plain, square base that is massively buttressed. It is a pleasant,
rather than a remarkable tower, and one's eye wanders to the more
beautiful facade. Here, encased by severely plain supports, is one of
the most charming portals of Provencal Gothic. Decorated buttresses
stand on either side of a large, shallow recess which has a high and
pointed arch, and in the centre, a slim pier divides the entrance-way
into two parts, pre-figuring the final division of the Just and the
Unjust. A multitude of finely sculptured statues were formerly hidden in
niches, under graceful canopies, and in the hundred little nooks and
corners which lurk about true Gothic portals. Standing Apostles and
seated Patriarchs, baby cherubs peering out, and the more dramatic
composition of the tympanum--the Transfiguration,--all lent a dignity
and wealth to Saint-Sauveur. Unfortunately many of these sculptures were
torn from their crannies in th