“Satan, begone!” he thundered; “in the name of this cross, and of St. Ursula, begone!”
“Thou hast foiled me,” said the old man, his eyes glowing in the darkness like fire. “But I will have my revenge. Your church shall never be completed, and your name shall never be known in the future to mankind.”
“The Cathedral of Cologne is unfinished, and its architect’s name is unknown. It may harm the story, but it is but just to say that many of the old cathedrals of Europe are in these respects like that of Cologne.
“We were impatient to visit the cathedral on our arrival at Cologne. The structure stood as it were over the city, like its presiding genius; and so it was. Wherever we went the great roofs loomed above us in the air.
“The interior did not disappoint us, even after all we had seen in other cathedral towns. It was like a forest: the columns were like tree stems of a vast open woodland, the groined arches appearing like interweaving boughs. The gorgeous windows were like a sunset through the trees. The air was dusky in the arches, but near the lofty windows vivid with color.
“It was Sunday. The service had begun. It was like a pageant, an opera. The organ was pouring a solemn chant through the far arches, like fall winds among the trees. There was a flute-like gush of music, far off and mysterious, like birds. It came from the boy-choristers. Priests in glittering garments were kneeling before the cupola-crowned altar; there rose a cloud of incense from silver censers, and the organ thundered again, like the storm gathering over the woods. At the side of the altar stood the archiepiscopal throne, half in shadow amid the tall lights, red and gold; amid the piles of barbaric splendor, canopies, carvings, emblems.
“We visited the chapels on the following day. In one of them a Latin inscription tells the visitor,—
“‘Here repose the three bodies of the holy magi.’
“The guide said,—
“‘This is the tomb of the Three Kings of Cologne.’