You could not see the Grotto, the entrance of which was on the left, at the base of the rock.

Beyond the Basilica, the only buildings which caught the eye were the heavy square pile where the Fathers of the Immaculate Conception had their abode, and the episcopal palace, standing much farther away, in a spreading, wooded valley.

And the three churches were flaming in the morning glow, and the rain of gold scattered by the sun rays was sweeping the whole countryside, whilst the flying peals of the bells seemed to be the very vibration of the light, the musical awakening of the lovely day that was now beginning.
Whilst crossing the Place du Rosaire, Pierre and Marie glanced at the Esplanade, the public walk with its long central lawn skirted by broad parallel paths and extending as far as the new bridge.

Here, with face turned towards the Basilica, was the great crowned statue of the Virgin.
All the sufferers crossed themselves as they went by.

And still passionately chanting its canticle, the fearful _cortege_ rolled on, through nature in festive array.