The Dawn of All

by Robert Hugh Benson

  (V)

  The three priests stood together that evening on the high roof ofa Carmelite priory, on the other side of the river, half a mileaway, yet opposite the grotto, as the German girl came down tomake her thanksgiving.

  From where they stood it was impossible to make out a singledetail of that at which they looked. The priory stood on highground, itself towering above the crowded roofs that lay betweenthem and the river; and opposite rose up the masses of the hillat the foot of which was the sacred place itself.

  It resembled to-night a picture all of fire. The churches on theleft were outlined in light, up to the last high line of roofagainst the dark starlit sky; and upon the spaces in between laythe soft glow from the tens of thousands of torches that thecrowds carried beneath. Above the grotto the precipitous face ofthe cliff showed black and sombre, except where the zigzag pathsshone out in liquid wandering lines, where the folks stood packedtogether, unseeing, yet content to be present. In front, at thefoot, over the lake of fire where the main body of worshippersstood, glowed softly the cavern where Mary's feet had oncerested, and where her power had lived now far beyond the memoryof the oldest man present.

  From this distance few sounds could be heard except the steadymurmur of voices of those countless thousands. It was as thesteady roll of far-off wheels or of the tide coming in over arocky beach; and even the sudden roar of welcome and triumph thatannounced that the little procession had left the Place was softand harmonious. There followed a long pause.

  Then, on a sudden, trumpets rang out, clear as silver,sharpened and reverberated by the rocks from which theysounded, and like the voice of a dreaming giant, came the greatwords, articulate and distinct:--

  "Magnificat anima mea Dominum."

  * * * * * * * *

  "And you, Monsignor," asked Dom Adrian, as they stood half anhour later, still watching the lines of light writhe this way andthat as the crowds went home, "you have asked Our Lady to giveyou back your memory?"

  "I was at the grotto this afternoon," he said. "It is not for me."

  "Then there will be something better instead," smiled the young monk.

  CHAPTER VIII