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But the inside of the Cathedral's like a rabbit-warren, and whoever threw the man through that doorway no doubt knew how to slip away unobserved. Now, you'll have to remove the body to the mortuary, of course but just let me fetch Dr. Ransford first. I'd like some other medical man than myself to see him before he's moved I'll have him here in five minutes."
It's the Cathedral." "Please let me pass," said Ronder. "I haven't any time just now to spare." "Ah, that hurts your pride. You like to think it's you who's been the mighty fine fellow all this time. Well, it isn't you at all. It's the Cathedral. The Cathedral's jealous, you know don't like its servants taking all the credit to themselves. Pride's dangerous, Canon Ronder.
The façade is attached to the immense, unbroken wall of the old episcopal Palace, and the majesty, which is a Cathedral's by very virtue of its height alone, is entirely destroyed by a seemingly interminable breadth of wall. Reversing the natural order of things, the finest view is that of the apse.
The cathedral's outline was traced: a Roman cruciform Gothic structure of five aisles and a bold transept; two flanking towers, of which only the northern has been constructed, the other having been substituted by a cupola of decided Byzantine or Oriental taste, and a noble western façade of three immense doors surmounted by a circular rosace thirty feet wide.
Then the land again rose sheer on gray curtains of masonry, splashed red with October ivy, lifting city on city. A cathedral's beginnings, looking a ruin, now cut sharply against the sky, neighboring a hospital with the facade of a chateau.
The same care is no longer taken to repair fallen bits of carved stone; pigeon-lamps that burn little oil replace the huge bronze lamps of other days, and no new additions are being made. The cathedral's apogee has been reached; from now on it will either remain intact for centuries, or else it will gradually crumble away.
Florence was half hidden by the great yellow bulk of the Pitti palace, but Olive could see the slender, exquisite white and rose tower of Giotto, and the mellowed red of the cathedral's dome against the faint purple of the hills beyond Fiesole, and she looked at them in preference to the contorted river gods and exuberant nymphs of the fountain in the royal courtyard close by.
The display of box work and crystal is sufficiently gorgeous to do honor to the famous old cathedral of France, the ceiling especially being a masterpiece of the builder's and decorator's arts; but the grandest portion, which a visitor recently returned from foreign travel called The Russian Castle, on account of the magnificence of the large box work and pearly crystal masses, should rather be known as the great cathedral's crowning glory, The Altar.
Yet these are the people we must know if we are to have a right conception of the Cathedral's place in the living interest of the Middle Ages. For the Bishop's church was in every sense a popular church. The Abbey was built primarily for its monks, and the Abbey-church for their meditation and worship.
The sound of the organ roared over the marshes, but the song and prayers of the people streamed up from the cathedral's highest tower like thin gold chains, and reached to Paradise, and up and down them went the angels from Paradise to the people, and from the people to Paradise again.
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