But in the middle of this first and inspired sermon, the girl had looked up to see the light pouring in through the window in such a way that it insinuated itself under the whitewash that covered the popish painting of the saints upon the wall, so that the saints themselves seemed to have stepped out of the whiteness and were looking directly down upon her, insignificant as she was, a mere flea to them, and their faces were glowing with such sorrow, such radiant love, that a godly feeling rushed over her skin, first, then deeper into the meat inside.
