Now, so intently did the three men keep their eyes fixed upon the star, and so eagerly did they follow in the direction where it seemed to lead, that it was only after a considerable time they discovered that they had become separated from each other, and that their paths were getting farther and farther apart.  Yet, there before each of them was the star, shining with its soft, opalescent light, and still ringing in their ears were the words of Balthazar—­“we must follow the star.”

[Sidenote:  The Star Stands Still]

So each followed the star, each by himself alone.  Gaspard’s path wound along near the shore of the gulfs and bays of the Mediterranean, until at last the the star turned southward and drew him nearer and nearer to a great city, and finally stood still over the dome of a vast cathedral.  “It must be,” thought Gaspard, “that I have come to the end of my search.  This must be the capital and palace of the eternal king.”

[Sidenote:  Marbled Aisle’s Magnificence]

The square in front of the cathedral was thronged with people; multitudes were pouring in through the great portals.  Gaspard joined the throngs, and at last found himself under the mighty dome, which seemed to him as far away as the sky itself.  Everything in this wonderful place appealed to his imagination.  There were great rows of massive columns, symbol of a strength eternal, and they seemed like wide-open arms holding out a welcome to the human race.  There were statues and paintings by great masters in art.  The light of the sun poured in through many-colored windows, on which were blazoned the deeds of heroes and saints.  Strains of music from the great organ in the distance floated out upon the air.  Touched and thrilled by all he saw, Gaspard exclaimed to himself:  “The place on which I stand is holy ground.”

[Sidenote:  Kyrie Eleison]

Soon, however, he perceived that the throngs of people were not lingering, like himself, in awe and wonder over the great columns and the dome, and the statues, and the paintings, and the windows.  Their eyes were fixed intently upon something that was going on in the far end of the cathedral.  An altar was there, and priests in white robes passing up and down before it, and tall tapers burning around it.  Near the altar was the image of a man hanging from a cross; his hands and feet were pierced with nails, and a cruel wound was in his side.  The people were gazing at this altar, and at the image, and at what the white-robed priests were doing.  The strains of solemn music from the organ blended with the voices of priests chanting the service.  Clouds of incense rose from censers, swung with solemn motion by the altar-boys, and the fragrance of the incense was wafted down the long aisles.  At last, the tinkling of a bell.  The organ became silent for an instant, as though it felt within its heart the awful solemnity of the moment; and then it burst forth into new rapture, and the people began pouring out through the great doors.