There was nothing about her of the idealism of the Virgin painted by Christian artists; she was much more like an Indian idol covered with jewels.

The embroidered dress and mantle stood out with the stiffness of stone folds, and over the head-dress sparkled a crown as large as a helmet, diminishing the face.

Gold, pearls and diamonds shone on every part of her vestments, and she wore pendants and bracelets of immense value.
Gabriel smiled at the religious simplicity which dressed heavenly heroes according to the fashions of the earth.
The faint twilight glimmering through the windows and the wavering flame of the tapers animated the face of the image as if she were speaking.
"Even as I am!" said Gabriel to himself.

"If a holy person were in my place he would think the Virgin was laughing one moment and crying the next; with a little imagination and faith, behold here is a miracle! These flickerings of light have been an inexhaustible mine for the priests, even the Venus' of former times changed the expression of their faces at the pleasure of the faithful, just like a Christian image." He thought a long time about miracles, the invention of all religions, and as old as human ignorance and credulity.
It was now quite dark.

After supping frugally, Gabriel opened a book that he carried in his basket and began to read by the light of his lantern.