The Argosy — page 123: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Tex Aumosy.) Christinas Eve in Rome. TO9Q In the crowd were, indeed, veritable shepherds. Wild wondering eyes gazed into the light and the incense: uncouth forms, clothed in sheep skins, shouldered through the iron gates of the chapel and stood immoveable, transfixed. And the strange singing went on, rather un- couth, too, to a sensitive ear, but with strange fascination in it, height- ened by the weird tones of the soprano voices. Aunt Lucy and I looked and listened together. The chapel was full when we arrived, and we found the crowd rather rough to stand amongst. Now, a brown-robed monk pushed his way through, or an English gentleman made forcible egress for wife or daughter, or a shaggy shepherd planted himself, as on a post of observation, just in front of us, and swayed to and fro in bewildered amazement, uncomfortably unconscious of his neighbours ! I was looking intently at an old canon, who had fallen asleep in his niche, and was being recalled to his duties by a sharp-visaged ecclesiastic next him, when there was a sudden movement in the crowd ; a lady had fainted, and was being supported out of the chapel. There was a rush and tumult, and I was forced away from aunt Lucy’s side and impelled out into the church. The instant I could, I went back to the place where I had left her; she was gone! In vain I pushed my way from one point to another; I could see her face nowhere. I wandered out into the church, and sought for her familiar figure in the shadowy aisles, and up and down the great nave. I felt frightened and confused. Everything had lost its charm. The strange crowd hornfied me, and I thought every one stared at me ; I was afraid of the hight, and still more of the darkness. I wandered up to the shrine under the great dome, and the vastness of the dim height was a terror to me. Some one passed and looked, came back quickly, and said, in a low, clear voice, ‘“‘ Pardon me; but if I can give you assistance, will you allow me?” It was the “stranger Englishman” of the morning. His voice was such a comfort to me, I believe I uttered a little cry of joy ; and, as if he had been a friend, I told him my troubles. It never seemed to occur to me that he was a nameless stranger. He had seen my face in the chapel, he said, and had noticed I was with another lady, which must be his excuse for speaking to’ me when he saw me after- wards alone : he had thought it hkely I had lost my companion. “It was such a comfort to hear your voice,” I said simply, just as we were crossing the stream of light from the choir chapel. He tumed his face and looked at me, and that brilliant smile shone out again with a flash that made my head drop, I knew not why. He led me out of the church, which seemed grand and beautiful again now, and we came out upon the broad steps, and found daylight breaking, gray and cold and chill, over the Piazza. I remembered the name of our coachman, but we inquired vainly for him and his carnage. At last a sleepy driver of a “legno” said he thought Giorgio Petn had driven off the Piazza as ECOMicoOolkxs.cO©