The mind of Gaston, for one, was touched by the
sense of some remote and delicate beauty in these things, like
magicians' work, like an effect of magic as being extorted from
unsuspected sources.
What winter really brought however, was the danger and vexation of a
great siege. The householders of catholic Chartres had watched the
forces of their Huguenot enemies gathering from this side and that;
and at last the dreaded circle was complete. They were prisoners
like [46] the rest, Gaston and the grandparents, shut up in their
little hotel; and Gaston, face to face with it, understood at last
what war really means. After all, it took them by surprise. It was
early in the day. A crowd of worshippers filled the church of
Sainte-Foy, built partly upon the ramparts; and at the conclusion of
the mass, the Sacrament was to be carried to a sick person. Touched
by unusual devotion at this perilous time, the whole assembly rose to
escort the procession on its way, passing out slowly, group after
group, as if by mechanical instinct, the more reluctant led on by the
general consent.
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