ned but here
and there on the silent, grass-grown streets gray, ancient palaces with
barred and shuttered windows. The very names of those who once dwelt
there could be found only in the musty archives in Bruges or Brussels. A
small _estaminet_ across the bridge bore the sign "In den Pape Gaei,"
and to this I fared and wrote my notes, while the crippled girl carrying
the baby seated herself where she could watch me, and then lapsed into a
sort of trance, with wide open eyes which evidently saw not.

In company with a large, black, savage-looking dog which traveled
side-ways regarding me threateningly, I thought, and gloweringly refused
my offers of friendship, I crossed the Grand' Place to the Hotel de
Ville, or Town Hall, the door of which stood open. Inside, no living
soul responded to my knock. The rooms were rather bare of furniture,
many of them of noble proportions, and a few desks and chairs showed
that they were used by the town officers, wherever they were.

St. Martin's was closed, and I skirted its walls, hoping to find
somewhere a door unfastened that I might enter and see the great _Jube_
or altar screen. In a small, evil-smelling alley-way, where there was a
patch of green grass, I saw low down in the wall a grated window, which
I fancied must be at the back of the altar. I got down on my knees and,
parting the grass which grew there rankly, I put my face in against the
iron bars that closed it. For a moment I could see nothing, then when my
eyes became accustomed to the light I saw a tall candle burning on an
iron ring on the wall; then a heavy black cross beside it, and finally a
figure in some sort of heavy dark robe kneeling prostrate before it,
only the tightly clasped white hands gleaming in the dim candle light;
almost holding my breath I withdrew my head, feeling that I was almost
committing sacrilege. Unfortunately for me, I dislodged some loose
mortar, and I heard this rattle noisily into the chamber below. Then I
fled as rapidly as I could down the dim alley-way to the silent sunlit
Grand' Place. Here I found the verger, and he admitted me to the great
old church, in return for a one-franc piece, and brought me a
rush-bottom chair to a choice spot before the wondrous _Jube_, where I
made my drawing.

[Illustration: The Great Jube, or Altar Screen: Dixmude]

In the silence of the great gray old church I labored over the exquisite
Gothic detail, all unmindful of the passing time, when all at on