There seemed to be none now,
but perhaps "they withered all" when the town died. I should not wonder
if this were so, for shells must certainly have dropped in the moat, and
in so doing must have disturbed them at the very roots. Crossing the
moat by the bridge, we went to the _Place_, once bordered by one of
the greatest and most magnificent examples of civic mediaeval
architecture the world had to show--the Cloth Hall of Ypres. Its walls
now only stand some 20 or 30 feet high. The remains of the towers of the
Cathedral are a little higher, and one of the pinnacles of the Cloth
Hall points like a gaunt grey finger to the sky. I wandered alone into
the Institute of St. Vincent de Paul, which stands to the north of the
_Place_ and is only partially ruined. The fa?ade, a pleasant
example of Louis XIV work, is still standing, and there are also pieces
of the roof intact. One enters by the church or chapel door. I passed
through this, with its desecrated altars and its ruined ecclesiastical
finery, into the sacristies and other rooms behind, including one lofty
room lined entirely with blue-and-white tiles. While there, I heard, to
my surprise, a faint and very distant sound of a sweeping broom.
Pages:
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503