The choir was surrounded by stalls, and the stalls were raised two steps from the pavement.
It was at the bottom of these steps that Julien sat at the feet of M. de Chelan almost like a train-bearer sitting next to his cardinal in the Sixtine chapel at Rome.
There was a Te Deum, floods of incense, innumerable volleys of musketry and artillery; the peasants were drunk with happiness and piety.
A day like this undoes the work of a hundred numbers of the Jacobin papers.
Julien was six paces from the king, who was really praying with devotion.
He noticed for the first time a little man with a witty expression, who wore an almost plain suit.
But he had a sky-blue ribbon over this very simple suit.
He was nearer the king than many other lords, whose clothes were embroidered with gold to such an extent that, to use Julien's expression, it was impossible to see the cloth.
He learnt some minutes later that it was Monsieur de la Mole.
He thought he looked haughty, and even insolent.
"I'm sure this marquis is not so polite as my pretty bishop," he thought.
"Ah, the ecclesiastical calling makes men mild and good.
But the king has come to venerate the relic, and I don't see a trace of the relic.
Where has Saint Clement got to?"
A little priest who sat next to him informed him that the venerable relic was at the top of the building in a chapelle ardente.
"What is a chapelle ardente," said Julien to himself.
But he was reluctant to ask the meaning of this word.
He redoubled his attention.
The etiquette on the occasion of a visit of a sovereign prince is that the canons do not accompany the bishop.
But, as he started on his march to the chapelle ardente, my lord bishop of Agde called the abbe Chelan. Julien dared to follow him.
Having climbed up a long staircase, they reached an extremely small door whose Gothic frame was magnificently gilded.
This work looked as though it had been constructed the day before.
Twenty-four young girls belonging to the most distinguished families in Verrieres were assembled in front of the door.
The bishop knelt down in the midst of these pretty maidens before he opened the door.
While he was praying aloud, they seemed unable to exhaust their admiration for his fine lace, his gracious mien, and his young and gentle face.
This spectacle deprived our hero of his last remnants of reason.
At this moment he would have fought for the Inquisition, and with a good conscience.
The door suddenly opened. The little chapel was blazing with light.
More than a thousand candles could be seen before the altar, divided into eight lines and separated from each other by bouquets of flowers.
The suave odour of the purest incense eddied out from the door of the sanctuary.
The chapel, which had been newly gilded, was extremely small but very high. Julien noticed that there were candles more than fifteen feet high upon the altar.
The young girls could not restrain a cry of admiration.
Only the twenty-four young girls, the two cures and Julien had been admitted into the little vestibule of the chapel.
Soon the king arrived, followed by Monsieur de la Mole and his great Chamberlain.
The guards themselves remained outside kneeling and presenting arms.
His Majesty precipitated, rather than threw himself, on to the stool.
It was only then that Julien, who was keeping close to the gilded door, perceived over the bare arm of a young girl, the charming statue of St. Clement.
It was hidden under the altar, and bore the dress of a young Roman soldier.
It had a large wound on its neck, from which the blood seemed to flow.
The artist had surpassed himself. The eyes, which though dying were full of grace, were half closed. A budding moustache adored that charming mouth which, though half closed, seemed notwithstanding to be praying.
The young girl next to Julien wept warm tears at the sight.
One of her tears fell on Julien's hand.
After a moment of prayer in the profoundest silence, that was only broken by the distant sound of the bells of all the villages within a radius of ten leagues, the bishop of Agde asked the king's permission to speak.
He finished a short but very touching speech with a passage, the very simplicity of which assured its effectiveness:
"Never forget, young Christian women, that you have seen one of the greatest kings of the world on his knees before the servants of this Almighty and terrible God.
These servants, feeble, persecuted, assassinated as they were on earth, as you can see by the still bleeding wounds of Saint Clement, will triumph in Heaven.
You will remember them, my young Christian women, will you not, this day for ever, and will detest the infidel.
You will be for ever faithful to this God who is so great, so terrible, but so good?"
With these words the bishop rose authoritatively.
"You promise me?" he said, lifting up his arm with an inspired air.