he murmured, 'you are fruitful and kind; you shelter
the birds, you nurture the cattle, you have many
deep streams at which all may drink. And at evening
your mountains are heavy with rest, and at dawn
your mountains are the first to praise God ... to
praise . . . .' His voice faltered and died away;
then he raised his hand as though he were blessing.
A bell sounded. He saw the town of Saint Loup
with the sea lying placid and azure beyond it, saw
the dark, rugged, unclothed peaks of the Maures,
saw the ancient church with its open belfry and heard
the three rhythmic strokes of the bell that proclaimed
the lifting up of the Lord at the evening service of
Benediction.

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