The bells of Belgian churches differed markedly from those of churches in France. With the archbishop's permission, Georgiana tried operating the carillon. It was not as difficult to handle as she had imagined; a light pull made it ring. It was quite interesting, but if an amateur meddled with a musical bell, it would produce noise and disturb the public. So after trying it twice, she left the device alone.
Even though St. Rumbold's Cathedral was far larger than Mechelen's other churches, after wandering around for so long, they had seen nearly everything except the tower. Georgiana and the archbishop looked at each other. What were they supposed to do next?
"Has the choir arrived today?" Grégoire asked then.
"Oh, yes, they have, they have," the archbishop said hastily. Immediately afterward, a member of the clergy turned to make preparations.
"I want to hear a symphony," Georgiana said.
Everyone looked at her.
"I heard one in a church in Venice. You should try it," Georgiana said.
"This is not Venice," the archbishop said with a smile.
Georgiana did not answer at once.
Even though Belgium had already been stripped nearly bare by the Austrians, it still possessed abundant Church property. The people of France had taken the golden candlesticks today—what would they take tomorrow?
In fourteenth-century Florence, people had placed their household property in churches and monasteries for the sake of security. The Church was the last place where order remained. If even it was plundered, it meant utter chaos. Even fortifications built at home could not stop those bent on setting fires and looting amid the disorder.
After Napoleon went to Venice, he plundered many works of art. There were still many famous paintings hanging openly in the churches of the Netherlands, unlike in secular places, where scarcely any