st of the first ages of the Church, who
in His humility put on the vilest aspect. In that case Mary would have
conceived Her Son in Her own image; She too had chosen to be ugly and
obscure, out of humility and loving-kindness, that She might the better
console the disfigured and despised creatures whose image She had
borrowed."

And Durtal went on:--

"What a crypt is this where, in the course of so many centuries, kings
and queens have come to worship!

"Philip Augustus and Isabella of Hainault, Blanche of Castille and Saint
Louis, Philippe de Valois, Jean le Bon, Charles V., Charles VI., Charles
VII., Charles VIII. and Anne de Bretagne; then Francois I., Henri III.
and Louise de Vaudemont, Catherine de' Medici; Henri IV., who was
crowned in this Cathedral, Anne of Austria, Louis XIV., Maria Leczinska,
and so many others--all the nobility of France; and Ferdinand of Spain,
and Leon de Lusignan, the last King of Armenia, and Pierre de Courtenay,
Emperor of Constantinople--all kneeling like the poor folks of to-day,
and like them beseeching Notre Dame de Sous-Terre."

And what was more interesting still was that the Virgin had wrought many
miracles on this spot. She had saved children who had fallen into the
well of the Strong Saints, had preserved the guardians who had charge of
the relic of Her garment when the edifice was blazing above them, and
had cured crowds, half maddened by the Burning plague in the Middle
Ages, shedding Her benefits with a lavish hand.

Times were changed indeed, but fervent worshippers had knelt before the
Image, had relinked the bonds broken in the course of years, had, so to
speak, recaptured the Virgin in a net of prayer; and so, instead of
departing, as She had done elsewhere, She had remained at Chartres.

By some incredible effect of clemency She had endured the insult of the
tenth-day festivals and the outrage of seeing the Goddess of Reason
installed in her place on the altar, had suffered the infamous liturgy
of obscene canticles rising with the thundering incense of gunpowder.
And She had forgiven it all, no doubt for the sake of the love shown Her
by preceding generations, and the awed, but real affection of the humble
believers who had come back to Her when the storm was over.

This cavern was crowded with memories. The coating of those walls had
been formed of the vapours of the soul, of the exhalations of
accumulated desires and regrets, even more than of the smoke of tape