own the low hum of
the chanting. Every head is uncovered--many, specially women, are
prostrate on the stones.

Arrived at the basilica of San Frediano, the procession halts under
the Byzantine mosaic on a gold ground, over the entrance. The entire
chapter is assembled before the open doors. They kneel before the
archbishop carrying the Host. Again there is a halt before the snowy
facade of the church of San Michele, pillared to the summit with
slender columns of Carrara marble--on the topmost pinnacle a colossal
statue of the archangel, in golden bronze, the outstretched wings
glistening against the turquoise sky. Here the same ceremonies are
repeated as at the church of San Frediano. The archbishop halts, the
chanting ceases, the Host is elevated, the assembled priests adore it,
kneeling without the portal.

It is one o'clock before the archbishop is enthroned within the
cathedral. The chapter, robed in red and purple, are ranged behind him
in the tribune at the back of the high altar, the grand old frescoes
hovering over them. The secular dignitaries are seated on benches
below the altar-steps. _Palchi_ (boxes), on either side of the
nave, are filled with Lucchese ladies, dark-haired, dark-eyed,
olive-skinned, backed by the crimson draperies with which the nave is
dressed.

A soft fluttering of fans agitates feathers, lace, and ribbons. Fumes
of incense mix with the scent of strong perfumes. Not the smallest
attention is paid by the ladies to the mass which is celebrating at
the high altar and the altar of the Holy Countenance. Their jeweled
hands hold no missal, their knees are unbent, their lips utter no
prayer. Instead, there are bright glances from lustrous eyes, and
whispered words to favored golden youths (without religion, of
course--what has a golden youth to do with religion?) who have
insinuated themselves within the ladies seats, or lean over, gazing at
them with upturned faces.

Peal after peal of musical thunder rolls from the double organs. It
is caught up by the two orchestras placed in gilt galleries on either
side of the nave. A vocal chorus on this side responds to exquisite
voices on that. Now a flute warbles a luscious solo, then a flageolet.
A grand barytone bursts forth, followed by a tenor soft as the notes
of a nightingale, accompanied by a boy on the violin. Then there is
the crash of many hundred voices, with the muffled roar of two organs.
It is the _Gloria in Excelsis_. As the music r