THE THREE CITIES

 LOURDES

 BY

 EMILE ZOLA

 Volume 2. 

 TRANSLATED BY ERNEST A. VIZETELLY

 THE SECOND DAY

I

THE TRAIN ARRIVES

IT was twenty minutes past three by the clock of the Lourdes railwaystation, the dial of which was illumined by a reflector. Under theslanting roof sheltering the platform, a hundred yards or so in length, some shadowy forms went to and fro, resignedly waiting. Only a red signallight peeped out of the black countryside, far away. 

Two of the promenaders suddenly halted. The taller of them, a Father ofthe Assumption, none other indeed than the Reverend Father Fourcade, director of the national pilgrimage, who had reached Lourdes on theprevious day, was a man of sixty, looking superb in his black cloak withits large hood. His fine head, with its clear, domineering eyes and thickgrizzly beard, was the head of a general whom an intelligentdetermination to conquer inflames. In consequence, however, of a suddenattack of gout he slightly dragged one of his legs, and was leaning onthe shoulder of his companion, Dr. Bonamy, the practitioner attached tothe Miracle Verification Office, a short, thick-set man, with asquare-shaped, clean-shaven face, which had dull, blurred eyes and atranquil cast of features. 

Father Fourcade had stopped to question the station-master whom heperceived running out of his office. "Will the white train be very late, monsieur?" he asked. 

"No, your reverence. It hasn't lost more than ten minutes; it will behere at the half-hour. It's the Bayonne train which worries me; it oughtto have passed through already. "

So saying, he ran off to give an order; but soon came back again, hisslim, nervous figure displaying marked signs of agitation. He lived, indeed, in a state of high fever throughout the period of the greatpilgrimages. Apart from the usual service, he that day expected eighteentrains, containing more than fifteen thousand passengers. The grey andthe blue trains which had started from Paris the first had alreadyarrived at the regulation hour. But the delay in the arrival of the whitetrain was very troublesome, the more so as the Bayonne express--whichpassed over the same rails--had not yet been signalled. It was easy tounderstand, therefore, what incessant watchfulness was necessary, not asecond passing without the entire staff of the station being called uponto exercise its vigilance. 

"In ten minutes, then?" repeated Father Fourcade. 

"Yes, in ten minutes, unless I'm obliged to close the line!" cried thestation-master as he hastened into the telegraph office. 

Father Fourcade and the doctor slowly resumed their promenade. The thingwhich astonished them was that no serious accident had ever happened inthe midst of such a fearful scramble. In past times, especially, the mostterrible disorder had prevailed. Father Fourcade complacently recalledthe first pilgrimage which he had organised and led, in 1875; theterrible endless journey without pillows or mattresses, the patientsexhausted, half dead, with no means of reviving them at hand; and thenthe arrival at Lourdes, the train evacuated in confusion, no /materiel/in readiness, no straps, nor stretchers, nor carts. But now there was apowerful organisation; a hospital awaited the sick, who were no longerreduced to lying upon straw in sheds. What a shock for those unhappyones! What force of will in the man of faith who led them to the scene ofmiracles! The reverend Father smiled gently at the thought of the workwhich he had accomplished. 

Then, still leaning on the doctor's shoulder, he began to question him:"How many pilgrims did you have last year?" he asked. 

"About two hundred thousand. That is still the average. In the year ofthe Coronation of the Virgin the figure rose to five hundred thousand. But to bring that about an exceptional occasion was needed with a greateffort of propaganda. Such vast masses cannot be collected together everyday. "

A pause followed, and then Father Fourcade murmured: "No doubt. Still theblessing of Heaven attends our endeavours; our work thrives more andmore. We have collected more than two hundred thousand francs indonations for this journey, and God will be with us, there will be manycures for you to proclaim to-morrow, I am sure of it. " Then, breakingoff, he inquired: "Has not Father Dargeles come here?"

Dr. Bonamy waved his hand as though to say that he did not know. FatherDargeles was the editor of the "Journal de la Grotte. " He belonged to theOrder of the Fathers of the Immaculate Conception whom the Bishop hadinstalled at Lourdes and who were the absolute masters there; though, when the Fathers of the Assumption came to the town with the nationalpilgrimage from Paris, which crowds of faithful Catholics from Cambrai, Arras, Chartres, Troyes, Rheims, Sens, Orleans, Blois, and Poitiersjoined, they evinced a kind of affectation in disappearing from thescene. Their omnipotence was no longer felt either at the Grotto or atthe Basilica; they seemed to surrender every key together with everyresponsibility. Their superior, Father Capdebarthe, a tall, peasant-likeman, with a knotty frame, a big head which looked as if it had beenfashioned with a bill-hook, and a worn face which retained a ruddymournful reflection of the soil, did not even show himself. Of the wholecommunity you only saw little, insinuating Father Dargeles; but he wasmet everywhere, incessantly on the look-out for paragraphs for hisnewspaper. At the same time, however, although the Fathers of theImmaculate Conception disappeared in this fashion, it could be divinedthat they were behind the vast stage, like a hidden sovereign power, coining money and toiling without a pause to increase the triumphantprosperity of their business. Indeed, they turned even their humility toaccount. 

"It's true that we have had to get up early--two in the morning, " resumedFather Fourcade gaily. "But I wished to be here. What would my poorchildren have said, indeed, if I had not come?"

He was alluding to the sick pilgrims, those who were so much flesh formiracle-working; and it was a fact that he had never missed coming to thestation, no matter what the hour, to meet that woeful white train, thattrain which brought such grievous suffering with it. 

"Five-and-twenty minutes past three--only another five minutes now, "exclaimed Dr. Bonamy repressing a yawn as he glanced at the clock; for, despite his obsequious air, he was at bottom very much annoyed at havinghad to get out of bed so early. However, he continued his slow promenadewith Father Fourcade along that platform which resembled a covered walk, pacing up and down in the dense night which the gas jets here and thereillumined with patches of yellow light. Little parties, dimly outlined, composed of priests and gentlemen in frock-coats, with a solitary officerof dragoons, went to and fro incessantly, talking together the while indiscreet murmuring tones. Other people, seated on benches, ranged alongthe station wall, were also chatting or putting their patience to proofwith their glances wandering away into the black stretch of countrybefore them. The doorways of the offices and waiting-rooms, which werebrilliantly lighted, looked like great holes in the darkness, and all wasflaring in the refreshment-room, where you could see the marble tablesand the counter laden with bottles and glasses and baskets of bread andfruit. 

On the right hand, beyond the roofing of the platform, there was aconfused swarming of people. There was here a goods gate, by which thesick were taken out of the station, and a mass of stretchers, litters, and hand-carts, with piles of pillows and mattresses, obstructed thebroad walk. Three parties of bearers were also assembled here, persons ofwell-nigh every class, but more particularly young men of good society, all wearing red, orange-tipped crosses and straps of yellow leather. Manyof them, too, had adopted the Bearnese cap, the convenient head-gear ofthe region; and a few, clad as though they were bound on some distantexpedition, displayed wonderful gaiters reaching to their knees. Somewere smoking, whilst others, installed in their little vehicles, slept orread newspapers by the light of the neighbouring gas jets. One group, standing apart, were discussing some service question. 

Suddenly, however, one and all began to salute. A paternal-looking man, with a heavy but good-natured face, lighted by large blue eyes, likethose of a credulous child, was approaching. It was Baron Suire, thePresident of the Hospitality of Our Lady of Salvation. He possessed agreat fortune and occupied a high position at Toulouse. 

"Where is Berthaud?" he inquired of one bearer after another, with a busyair. "Where is Berthaud? I must speak to him. "

The others answered, volunteering contradictory information. Berthaud wastheir superintendent, and whilst some said that they had seen him withthe Reverend Father Fourcade, others affirmed that he must be in thecourtyard of the station inspecting the ambulance vehicles. And theythereupon offered to go and fetch him. 

"No, no, thank you, " replied the Baron. "I shall manage to find himmyself. "

Whilst this was happening, Berthaud, who had just seated himself on abench at the other end of the station, was talking with his young friend, Gerard de Peyrelongue, by way of occupation pending the arrival of thetrain. The superintendent of the bearers was a man of forty, with abroad, regular-featured, handsome face and carefully trimmed whiskers ofa lawyer-like pattern. Belonging to a militant Legitimist family andholding extremely reactionary opinions, he had been Procureur de laRepublique (public prosecutor) in a town of the south of France from thetime of the parliamentary revolution of the twenty-fourth of May* untilthat of the decree of the Religious Communities, ** when he had resignedhis post in a blusterous fashion, by addressing an insulting letter tothe Minister of Justice. And he had never since laid down his arms, buthad joined the Hospitality of Our Lady of Salvation as a sort of protest, repairing year after year to Lourdes in order to "demonstrate"; convincedas he was that the pilgrimages were both disagreeable and hurtful to theRepublic, and that God alone could re-establish the Monarchy by one ofthose miracles which He worked so lavishly at the Grotto. Despite allthis, however, Berthaud possessed no small amount of good sense, andbeing of a gay disposition, displayed a kind of jovial charity towardsthe poor sufferers whose transport he had to provide for during the threedays that the national pilgrimage remained at Lourdes. 

 * The parliamentary revolution of May, 1873, by which M. Thiers was overthrown and Marshal MacMahon installed in his place with the object of restoring the Monarchy in France. --Trans. 

 ** M. Grevy's decree by which the Jesuits were expelled. --Trans. 

"And so, my dear Gerard, " he said to the young man seated beside him, "your marriage is really to come off this year?"

"Why yes, if I can find such a wife as I want, " replied the other. "Come, cousin, give me some good advice. "

Gerard de Peyrelongue, a short, thin, carroty young man, with apronounced nose and prominent cheek-bones, belonged to Tarbes, where hisfather and mother had lately died, leaving him at the utmost some sevenor eight thousand francs a year. Extremely ambitious, he had been unableto find such a wife as he desired in his native province--awell-connected young woman capable of helping him to push both forwardand upward in the world; and so he had joined the Hospitality, and betookhimself every summer to Lourdes, in the vague hope that amidst the massof believers, the torrent of devout mammas and daughters which flowedthither, he might find the family whose help he needed to enable him tomake his way in this terrestrial sphere. However, he remained inperplexity, for if, on the one hand, he already had several young ladiesin view, on the other, none of them completely satisfied him. 

"Eh, cousin? You will advise me, won't you?" he said to Berthaud. "Youare a man of experience. There is Mademoiselle Lemercier who comes herewith her aunt. She is very rich; according to what is said she has over amillion francs. But she doesn't belong to our set, and besides I thinkher a bit of a madcap. "

Berthaud nodded. "I told you so; if I were you I should choose littleRaymonde, Mademoiselle de Jonquiere. "

"But she hasn't a copper!"

"That's true--she has barely enough to pay for her board. But she isfairly good-looking, she has been well brought up, and she has noextravagant tastes. That is the really important point, for what is theuse of marrying a rich girl if she squanders the dowry she brings you?Besides, I know Madame and Mademoiselle de Jonquiere very well, I meetthem all through the winter in the most influential drawing-rooms ofParis. And, finally, don't forget the girl's uncle, the diplomatist, whohas had the painful courage to remain in the service of the Republic. Hewill be able to do whatever he pleases for his niece's husband. "

For a moment Gerard seemed shaken, and then he relapsed into perplexity. "But she hasn't a copper, " he said, "no, not a copper. It's too stiff. Iam quite willing to think it over, but it really frightens me too much. "

This time Berthaud burst into a frank laugh. "Come, you are ambitious, soyou must be daring. I tell you that it means the secretaryship of anembassy before two years are over. By the way, Madame and Mademoiselle deJonquiere are in the white train which we are waiting for. Make up yourmind and pay your court at once. "

"No, no! Later on. I want to think it over. "

At this moment they were interrupted, for Baron Suire, who had alreadyonce gone by without perceiving them, so completely did the darknessenshroud them in that retired corner, had just recognised the ex-publicprosecutor's good-natured laugh. And, thereupon, with the volubility of aman whose head is easily unhinged, he gave him several orders respectingthe vehicles and the transport service, deploring the circumstance thatit would be impossible to conduct the patients to the Grotto immediatelyon their arrival, as it was yet so extremely early. It had therefore beendecided that they should in the first instance be taken to the Hospitalof Our Lady of Dolours, where they would be able to rest awhile aftertheir trying journey. 

Whilst the Baron and the superintendent were thus settling what measuresshould be adopted, Gerard shook hands with a priest who had sat downbeside him. This was the Abbe des Hermoises, who was barelyeight-and-thirty years of age and had a superb head--such a head as onemight expect to find on the shoulders of a worldly priest. With his hairwell combed, and his person perfumed, he was not unnaturally a greatfavourite among women. Very amiable and distinguished in his manners, hedid not come to Lourdes in any official capacity, but simply for hispleasure, as so many other people did; and the bright, sparkling smile ofa sceptic above all idolatry gleamed in the depths of his fine eyes. Hecertainly believed, and bowed to superior decisions; but the Church--theHoly See--had not pronounced itself with regard to the miracles; and heseemed quite ready to dispute their authenticity. Having lived at Tarbeshe was already acquainted with Gerard. 

"Ah!" he said to him, "how impressive it is--isn't it?--this waiting forthe trains in the middle of the night! I have come to meet a lady--one ofmy former Paris penitents--but I don't know what train she will come by. Still, as you see, I stop on, for it all interests me so much. "

Then another priest, an old country priest, having come to sit down onthe same bench, the Abbe considerately began talking to him, speaking ofthe beauty of the Lourdes district and of the theatrical effect whichwould take place by-and-by when the sun rose and the mountains appeared. 

However, there was again a sudden alert, and the station-master ran alongshouting orders. Removing his hand from Dr. Bonamy's shoulder, FatherFourcade, despite his gouty leg, hastily drew near. 

"Oh! it's that Bayonne express which is so late, " answered thestation-master in reply to the questions addressed to him. "I should likesome information about it; I'm not at ease. "

At this moment the telegraph bells rang out and a porter rushed away intothe darkness swinging a lantern, whilst a distant signal began to work. Thereupon the station-master resumed: "Ah! this time it's the whitetrain. Let us hope we shall have time to get the sick people out beforethe express passes. "

He started off once more and disappeared. Berthaud meanwhile called toGerard, who was at the head of a squad of bearers, and they both madehaste to join their men, into whom Baron Suire was already instillingactivity. The bearers flocked to the spot from all sides, and settingthemselves in motion began dragging their little vehicles across thelines to the platform at which the white train would come in--an unroofedplatform plunged in darkness. A mass of pillows, mattresses, stretchers, and litters was soon waiting there, whilst Father Fourcade, Dr. Bonamy, the priests, the gentlemen, and the officer of dragoons in their turncrossed over in order to witness the removal of the ailing pilgrims. Allthat they could as yet see, far away in the depths of the black country, was the lantern in front of the engine, looking like a red star whichgrew larger and larger. Strident whistles pierced the night, thensuddenly ceased, and you only heard the panting of the steam and the dullroar of the wheels gradually slackening their speed. Then the canticlebecame distinctly audible, the song of Bernadette with the ever-recurring"Aves" of its refrain, which the whole train was chanting in chorus. Andat last this train of suffering and faith, this moaning, singing train, thus making its entry into Lourdes, drew up in the station. 

The carriage doors were at once opened, the whole throng of healthypilgrims, and of ailing ones able to walk, alighted, and streamed overthe platform. The few gas lamps cast but a feeble light on the crowd ofpoverty-stricken beings clad in faded garments, and encumbered with allsorts of parcels, baskets, valises, and boxes. And amidst all thejostling of this scared flock, which did not know in which direction toturn to find its way out of the station, loud exclamations were heard, the shouts of people calling relatives whom they had lost, mingled withthe embraces of others whom relatives or friends had come to meet. Onewoman declared with beatifical satisfaction, "I have slept well. " Apriest went off carrying his travelling-bag, after wishing a crippledlady "good luck!" Most of them had the bewildered, weary, yet joyousappearance of people whom an excursion train sets down at some unknownstation. And such became the scramble and the confusion in the darkness, that they did not hear the railway /employes/ who grew quite hoarsethrough shouting, "This way! this way!" in their eagerness to clear theplatform as soon as possible. 

Sister Hyacinthe had nimbly alighted from her compartment, leaving thedead man in the charge of Sister Claire des Anges; and, losing her headsomewhat, she ran off to the cantine van in the idea that Ferrand wouldbe able to help her. Fortunately she found Father Fourcade in front ofthe van and acquainted him with the fatality in a low voice. Repressing agesture of annoyance, he thereupon called Baron Suire, who was passing, and began whispering in his ear. The muttering lasted for a few seconds, and then the Baron rushed off, and clove his way through the crowd withtwo bearers carrying a covered litter. In this the man was removed fromthe carriage as though he were a patient who had simply fainted, the mobof pilgrims paying no further attention to him amidst all the emotion oftheir arrival. Preceded by the Baron, the bearers carried the corpse intoa goods office, where they provisionally lodged it behind some barrels;one of them, a fair-haired little fellow, a general's son, remaining towatch over it. 

Meanwhile, after begging Ferrand and Sister Saint-Francois to go and waitfor her in the courtyard of the station, near the reserved vehicle whichwas to take them to the Hospital of Our Lady of Dolours, Sister Hyacinthereturned to the railway carriage and talked of helping her patients toalight before going away. But Marie would not let her touch her. "No, no!" said the girl, "do not trouble about me, Sister. I shall remain herethe last. My father and Abbe Froment have gone to the van to fetch thewheels; I am waiting for their return; they know how to fix them, andthey will take me away all right, you may be sure of it. "

In the same way M. Sabathier and Brother Isidore did not desire to bemoved until the crowd had decreased. Madame de Jonquiere, who had takencharge of La Grivotte, also promised to see to Madame Vetu's removal inan ambulance vehicle. And thereupon Sister Hyacinthe decided that shewould go off at once so as to get everything ready at the hospital. Moreover, she took with her both little Sophie Couteau and Elise Rouquet, whose face she very carefully wrapped up. Madame Maze preceded them, while Madame Vincent, carrying her little girl, who was unconscious andquite white, struggled through the crowd, possessed by the fixed idea ofrunning off as soon as possible and depositing the child in the Grotto atthe feet of the Blessed Virgin. 

The mob was now pressing towards the doorway by which passengers left thestation, and to facilitate the egress of all these people it at lastbecame necessary to open the luggage gates. The /employes/, at a loss howto take the tickets, held out their caps, which a downpour of the littlecards speedily filled. And in the courtyard, a large square courtyard, skirted on three sides by the low buildings of the station, the mostextraordinary uproar prevailed amongst all the vehicles of divers kindswhich were there jumbled together. The hotel omnibuses, backed againstthe curb of the footway, displayed the most sacred names on their largeboards--Jesus and Mary, St. Michel, the Rosary, and the Sacred Heart. Then there were ambulance vehicles, landaus, cabriolets, brakes, andlittle donkey carts, all entangled together, with their drivers shouting, swearing, and cracking their whips--the tumult being apparently increasedby the obscurity in which the lanterns set brilliant patches of light. 

Rain had fallen heavily a few hours previously. Liquid mud splashed upunder the hoofs of the horses; the foot passengers sank into it to theirankles. M. Vigneron, whom Madame Vigneron and Madame Chaise werefollowing in a state of distraction, raised Gustave, in order to placehim in the omnibus from the Hotel of the Apparitions, after which hehimself and the ladies climbed into the vehicle. Madame Maze, shudderingslightly, like a delicate tabby who fears to dirty the tips of her paws, made a sign to the driver of an old brougham, got into it, and quicklydrove away, after giving as address the Convent of the Blue Sisters. Andat last Sister Hyacinthe was able to install herself with Elise Rouquetand Sophie Couteau in a large /char-a-bancs/, in which Ferrand andSisters Saint-Francois and Claire des Anges were already seated. Thedrivers whipped up their spirited little horses, and the vehicles wentoff at a breakneck pace, amidst the shouts of those left behind, and thesplashing of the mire. 

In presence of that rushing torrent, Madame Vincent, with her dear littleburden in her arms, hesitated to cross over. Bursts of laughter rang outaround her every now and then. Oh! what a filthy mess! And at sight ofall the mud, the women caught up their skirts before attempting to passthrough it. At last, when the courtyard had somewhat emptied, MadameVincent herself ventured on her way, all terror lest the mire should makeher fall in that black darkness. Then, on reaching a downhill road, shenoticed there a number of women of the locality who were on the watch, offering furnished rooms, bed and board, according to the state of thepilgrim's purse. 

"Which is the way to the Grotto, madame, if you please?" asked MadameVincent, addressing one old woman of the party. 

Instead of answering the question, however, the other offered her a cheaproom. "You won't find anything in the hotels, " said she, "for they areall full. Perhaps you will be able to eat there, but you certainly won'tfind a closet even to sleep in. "

Eat, sleep, indeed! Had Madame Vincent any thought of such things; shewho had left Paris with thirty sous in her pocket, all that remained toher after the expenses she had been put to!

"The way to the Grotto, if you please, madame?" she repeated. 

Among the women who were thus touting for lodgers, there was a tall, well-built girl, dressed like a superior servant, and looking very clean, with carefully tended hands. She glanced at Madame Vincent and slightlyshrugged her shoulders. And then, seeing a broad-chested priest with ared face go by, she rushed after him, offered him a furnished room, andcontinued following him, whispering in his ear. 

Another girl, however, at last took pity on Madame Vincent and said toher: "Here, go down this road, and when you get to the bottom, turn tothe right and you will reach the Grotto. "

Meanwhile, the confusion inside the station continued. The healthypilgrims, and those of the sick who retained the use of their legs couldgo off, thus, in some measure, clearing the platform; but the others, themore grievously stricken sufferers whom it was difficult to get out ofthe carriages and remove to the hospital, remained waiting. The bearersseemed to become quite bewildered, rushing madly hither and thither withtheir litters and vehicles, not knowing at what end to set about theprofusion of work which lay before them. 

As Berthaud, followed by Gerard, went along the platform, gesticulating, he noticed two ladies and a girl who were standing under a gas jet and toall appearance waiting. In the girl he recognised Raymonde, and with asign of the hand he at once stopped his companion. "Ah! mademoiselle, "said he, "how pleased I am to see you! Is Madame de Jonquiere quite well?You have made a good journey, I hope?" Then, without a pause, he added:"This is my friend, Monsieur Gerard de Peyrelongue. "

Raymonde gazed fixedly at the young man with her clear, smiling eyes. "Oh! I already have the pleasure of being slightly acquainted with thisgentleman, " she said. "We have previously met one another at Lourdes. "

Thereupon Gerard, who thought that his cousin Berthaud was conductingmatters too quickly, and was quite resolved that he would not enter intoany hasty engagement, contented himself with bowing in a ceremonious way. 

"We are waiting for mamma, " resumed Raymonde. "She is extremely busy; shehas to see after some pilgrims who are very ill. "

At this, little Madame Desagneaux, with her pretty, light wavy-hairedhead, began to say that it served Madame de Jonquiere right for refusingher services. She herself was stamping with impatience, eager to join inthe work and make herself useful, whilst Madame Volmar, silent, shrinkingback as though taking no interest in it at all, seemed simply desirous ofpenetrating the darkness, as though, indeed, she were seeking somebodywith those magnificent eyes of hers, usually bedimmed, but now shiningout like brasiers. 

Just then, however, they were all pushed back. Madame Dieulafay was beingremoved from her first-class compartment, and Madame Desagneaux could notrestrain an exclamation of pity. "Ah! the poor woman!"

There could in fact be no more distressing sight than this young woman, encompassed by luxury, covered with lace in her species of coffin, sowasted that she seemed to be a mere human shred, deposited on thatplatform till it could be taken away. Her husband and her sister, bothvery elegant and very sad, remained standing near her, whilst aman-servant and maid ran off with the valises to ascertain if thecarriage which had been ordered by telegram was in the courtyard. AbbeJudaine also helped the sufferer; and when two men at last took her up hebent over her and wished her /au revoir/, adding some kind words whichshe did not seem to hear. Then as he watched her removal, he resumed, addressing himself to Berthaud, whom he knew: "Ah! the poor people, ifthey could only purchase their dear sufferer's cure. I told them thatprayer was the most precious thing in the Blessed Virgin's eyes, and Ihope that I have myself prayed fervently enough to obtain the compassionof Heaven. Nevertheless, they have brought a magnificent gift, a goldenlantern for the Basilica, a perfect marvel, adorned with precious stones. May the Immaculate Virgin deign to smile upon it!"

In this way a great many offerings were brought by the pilgrims. Somehuge bouquets of flowers had just gone by, together with a kind of triplecrown of roses, mounted on a wooden stand. And the old priest explainedthat before leaving the station he wished to secure a banner, the gift ofthe beautiful Madame Jousseur, Madame Dieulafay's sister. 

Madame de Jonquiere was at last approaching, however, and on perceivingBerthaud and Gerard she exclaimed: "Pray do go to that carriage, gentlemen--that one, there! We want some men very badly. There are threeor four sick persons to be taken out. I am in despair; I can do nothingmyself. "

Gerard ran off after bowing to Raymonde, whilst Berthaud advised Madamede Jonquiere to leave the station with her daughter and those ladiesinstead of remaining on the platform. Her presence was in nowisenecessary, he said; he would undertake everything, and within threequarters of an hour she would find her patients in her ward at thehospital. She ended by giving way, and took a conveyance in company withRaymonde and Madame Desagneaux. As for Madame Volmar, she had at the lastmoment disappeared, as though seized with a sudden fit of impatience. Theothers fancied that they had seen her approach a strange gentleman, withthe object no doubt of making some inquiry of him. However, they would ofcourse find her at the hospital. 

Berthaud joined Gerard again just as the young man, assisted by twofellow-bearers, was endeavouring to remove M. Sabathier from thecarriage. It was a difficult task, for he was very stout and very heavy, and they began to think that he would never pass through the doorway ofthe compartment. However, as he had been got in they ought to be able toget him out; and indeed when two other bearers had entered the carriagefrom the other side, they were at last able to deposit him on theplatform. 

The dawn was now appearing, a faint pale dawn; and the platform presentedthe woeful appearance of an improvised hospital. La Grivotte, who hadlost consciousness, lay there on a mattress pending her removal in alitter; whilst Madame Vetu had been seated against a lamp-post, sufferingso severely from another attack of her ailment that they scarcely daredto touch her. Some hospitallers, whose hands were gloved, were withdifficulty wheeling their little vehicles in which were poor, sordid-looking women with old baskets at their feet. Others, withstretchers on which lay the stiffened, woeful bodies of silent sufferers, whose eyes gleamed with anguish, found themselves unable to pass; butsome of the infirm pilgrims, some unfortunate cripples, contrived to slipthrough the ranks, among them a young priest who was lame, and a littlehumpbacked boy, one of whose legs had been amputated, and who, lookinglike a gnome, managed to drag himself with his crutches from group togroup. Then there was quite a block around a man who was bent in half, twisted by paralysis to such a point that he had to be carried on a chairwith his head and feet hanging downward. It seemed as though hours wouldbe required to clear the platform. 

The dismay therefore reached a climax when the station-master suddenlyrushed up shouting: "The Bayonne express is signalled. Make haste! makehaste! You have only three minutes left!"

Father Fourcade, who had remained in the midst of the throng, leaning onDoctor Bonamy's arm, and gaily encouraging the more stricken of thesufferers, beckoned to Berthaud and said to him: "Finish taking them outof the train; you will be able to clear the platform afterwards!"

The advice was very sensible, and in accordance with it they finishedplacing the sufferers on the platform. In Madame de Jonquiere's carriageMarie now alone remained, waiting patiently. M. De Guersaint and Pierrehad at last returned to her, bringing the two pairs of wheels by means ofwhich the box in which she lay was rolled about. And with Gerard'sassistance Pierre in all haste removed the girl from the train. She wasas light as a poor shivering bird, and it was only the box that gave themany trouble. However, they soon placed it on the wheels and made thelatter fast, and then Pierre might have rolled Marie away had it not beenfor the crowd which hampered him. 

"Make haste! make haste!" furiously repeated the station-master. 

He himself lent a hand, taking hold of a sick man by the feet in order toremove him from the compartment more speedily. And he also pushed thelittle hand-carts back, so as to clear the edge of the platform. In asecond-class carriage, however, there still remained one woman who hadjust been overpowered by a terrible nervous attack. She was howling andstruggling, and it was impossible to think of touching her at thatmoment. But on the other hand the express, signalled by the incessanttinkling of the electric bells, was now fast approaching, and they had toclose the door and in all haste shunt the train to the siding where itwould remain for three days, until in fact it was required to convey itsload of sick and healthy passengers back to Paris. As it went off to thesiding the crowd still heard the cries of the suffering woman, whom ithad been necessary to leave in it, in charge of a Sister, cries whichgrew weaker and weaker, like those of a strengthless child whom one atlast succeeds in consoling. 

"Good Lord!" muttered the station-master; "it was high time!"

In fact the Bayonne express was now coming along at full speed, and thenext moment it rushed like a crash of thunder past that woeful platformlittered with all the grievous wretchedness of a hospital hastilyevacuated. The litters and little handcarts were shaken, but there was noaccident, for the porters were on the watch, and pushed back thebewildered flock which was still jostling and struggling in its eagernessto get away. As soon as the express had passed, however, circulation wasre-established, and the bearers were at last able to complete the removalof the sick with prudent deliberation. 

Little by little the daylight was increasing--a clear dawn it was, whitening the heavens whose reflection illumined the earth, which wasstill black. One began to distinguish things and people clearly. 

"Oh, by-and-by!" Marie repeated to Pierre, as he endeavoured to roll heraway. "Let us wait till some part of the crowd has gone. "

Then, looking around, she began to feel interested in a man of militarybearing, apparently some sixty years of age, who was walking about amongthe sick pilgrims. With a square-shaped head and white bushy hair, hewould still have looked sturdy if he had not dragged his left foot, throwing it inward at each step he took. With the left hand, too, heleant heavily on a thick walking-stick. When M. Sabathier, who hadvisited Lourdes for six years past, perceived him, he became quite gay. "Ah!" said he, "it is you, Commander!"

Commander was perhaps the old man's name. But as he was decorated with abroad red riband, he was possibly called Commander on account of hisdecoration, albeit the latter was that of a mere chevalier. Nobodyexactly knew his story. No doubt he had relatives and children of his ownsomewhere, but these matters remained vague and mysterious. For the lastthree years he had been employed at the railway station as asuperintendent in the goods department, a simple occupation, a littleberth which had been given him by favour and which enabled him to live inperfect happiness. A first stroke of apoplexy at fifty-five years of agehad been followed by a second one three years later, which had left himslightly paralysed in the left side. And now he was awaiting the thirdstroke with an air of perfect tranquillity. As he himself put it, he wasat the disposal of death, which might come for him that night, the nextday, or possibly that very moment. All Lourdes knew him on account of thehabit, the mania he had, at pilgrimage time, of coming to witness thearrival of the trains, dragging his foot along and leaning upon hisstick, whilst expressing his astonishment and reproaching the ailing onesfor their intense desire to be made whole and sound again. 

This was the third year that he had seen M. Sabathier arrive, and all hisanger fell upon him. "What! you have come back /again/!" he exclaimed. "Well, you /must/ be desirous of living this hateful life! But/sacrebleu/! go and die quietly in your bed at home. Isn't that the bestthing that can happen to anyone?"

M. Sabathier evinced no anger, but laughed, exhausted though he was bythe handling to which he had been subjected during his removal from thecarriage. "No, no, " said he, "I prefer to be cured. "

"To be cured, to be cured! That's what they all ask for. They travelhundreds of leagues and arrive in fragments, howling with pain, and allthis to be cured--to go through every worry and every suffering again. Come, monsieur, you would be nicely caught if, at your age and with yourdilapidated old body, your Blessed Virgin should be pleased to restorethe use of your legs to you. What would you do with them, /mon Dieu?/What pleasure would you find in prolonging the abomination of old age fora few years more? It's much better to die at once, while you are likethat! Death is happiness!"

He spoke in this fashion, not as a believer who aspires to the deliciousreward of eternal life, but as a weary man who expects to fall intonihility, to enjoy the great everlasting peace of being no more. 

Whilst M. Sabathier was gaily shrugging his shoulders as though he had achild to deal with, Abbe Judaine, who had at last secured his banner, came by and stopped for a moment in order that he might gently scold theCommander, with whom he also was well acquainted. 

"Don't blaspheme, my dear friend, " he said. "It is an offence against Godto refuse life and to treat health with contempt. If you yourself hadlistened to me, you would have asked the Blessed Virgin to cure your legbefore now. "

At this the Commander became angry. "My leg! The Virgin can do nothing toit! I'm quite at my ease. May death come and may it all be over forever!When the time comes to die you turn your face to the wall and youdie--it's simple enough. "

The old priest interrupted him, however. Pointing to Marie, who was lyingon her box listening to them, he exclaimed: "You tell all our sick to gohome and die--even mademoiselle, eh? She who is full of youth and wishesto live. "

Marie's eyes were wide open, burning with the ardent desire which shefelt to /be/, to enjoy her share of the vast world; and the Commander, who had drawn near, gazed upon her, suddenly seized with deep emotionwhich made his voice tremble. "If mademoiselle gets well, " he said, "Iwill wish her another miracle, that she be happy. "

Then he went off, dragging his foot and tapping the flagstones with theferrule of his stout stick as he continued wending his way, like an angryphilosopher among the suffering pilgrims. 

Little by little, the platform was at last cleared. Madame Vetu and LaGrivotte were carried away, and Gerard removed M. Sabathier in a littlecart, whilst Baron Suire and Berthaud already began giving orders for thegreen train, which would be the next one to arrive. Of all the ailingpilgrims the only one now remaining at the station was Marie, of whomPierre jealously took charge. He had already dragged her into thecourtyard when he noticed that M. De Guersaint had disappeared; but amoment later he perceived him conversing with the Abbe des Hermoises, whose acquaintance he had just made. Their admiration of the beauties ofnature had brought them together. The daylight had now appeared, and thesurrounding mountains displayed themselves in all their majesty. 

"What a lovely country, monsieur!" exclaimed M. De Guersaint. "I havebeen wishing to see the Cirque de Gavarnie for thirty years past. But itis some distance away and the trip must be an expensive one, so that Ifear I shall not be able to make it. "

"You are mistaken, monsieur, " said the Abbe; "nothing is more easilymanaged. By making up a party the expense becomes very slight. And as ithappens, I wish to return there this year, so that if you would like tojoin us--"

"Oh, certainly, monsieur. We will speak of it again. A thousand thanks, "replied M. De Guersaint. 

His daughter was now calling him, however, and he joined her after takingleave of the Abbe in a very cordial manner. Pierre had decided that hewould drag Marie to the hospital so as to spare her the pain oftransference to another vehicle. But as the omnibuses, landaus, and otherconveyances were already coming back, again filling the courtyard inreadiness for the arrival of the next train, the young priest had somedifficulty in reaching the road with the little chariot whose low wheelssank deeply in the mud. Some police agents charged with maintaining orderwere cursing that fearful mire which splashed their boots; and indeed itwas only the touts, the young and old women who had rooms to let, wholaughed at the puddles, which they crossed and crossed again in everydirection, pursuing the last pilgrims that emerged from the station. 

When the little car had begun to roll more easily over the sloping roadMarie suddenly inquired of M. De Guersaint, who was walking near her:"What day of the week is it, father?"

"Saturday, my darling. "

"Ah! yes, Saturday, the day of the Blessed Virgin. Is it to-day that shewill cure me?"

Then she began thinking again; while, at some distance behind her, twobearers came furtively down the road, with a covered stretcher in whichlay the corpse of the man who had died in the train. They had gone totake it from behind the barrels in the goods office, and were nowconveying it to a secret spot of which Father Fourcade had told them. 

II

HOSPITAL AND GROTTO

BUILT, so far as it extends, by a charitable Canon, and left unfinishedthrough lack of money, the Hospital of Our Lady of Dolours is a vastpile, four storeys high, and consequently far too lofty, since it isdifficult to carry the sufferers to the topmost wards. As a rule thebuilding is occupied by a hundred infirm and aged paupers; but at theseason of the national pilgrimage these old folks are for three dayssheltered elsewhere, and the hospital is let to the Fathers of theAssumption, who at times lodge in it as many as five and six hundredpatients. Still, however closely packed they may be, the accommodationnever suffices, so that the three or four hundred remaining sufferershave to be distributed between the Hospital of Salvation and the townhospital, the men being sent to the former and the women to the latterinstitution. 

That morning at sunrise great confusion prevailed in the sand-coveredcourtyard of Our Lady of Dolours, at the door of which a couple ofpriests were mounting guard. The temporary staff, with its formidablesupply of registers, cards, and printed formulas, had installed itself inone of the ground-floor rooms on the previous day. The managers weredesirous of greatly improving upon the organisation of the precedingyear. The lower wards were this time to be reserved to the most helplesssufferers; and in order to prevent a repetition of the cases of mistakenidentity which had occurred in the past, very great care was to be takenin filling in and distributing the admission cards, each of which borethe name of a ward and the number of a bed. It became difficult, however, to act in accordance with these good intentions in presence of thetorrent of ailing beings which the white train had brought to Lourdes, and the new formalities so complicated matters that the patients had tobe deposited in the courtyard as they arrived, to wait there until itbecame possible to admit them in something like an orderly manner. It wasthe scene witnessed at the railway station all over again, the samewoeful camping in the open, whilst the bearers and the young seminaristswho acted as the secretary's assistants ran hither and thither inbewilderment. 

"We have been over-ambitious, we wanted to do things too well!" exclaimedBaron Suire in despair. 

There was much truth in his remark, for never had a greater number ofuseless precautions been taken, and they now discovered that, by someinexplicable error, they had allotted not the lower--but thehigher-placed wards to the patients whom it was most difficult to move. It was impossible to begin the classification afresh, however, and so asin former years things must be allowed to take their course, in ahaphazard way. The distribution of the cards began, a young priest at thesame time entering each patient's name and address in a register. Moreover, all the /hospitalisation/ cards bearing the patients' names andnumbers had to be produced, so that the names of the wards and thenumbers of the beds might be added to them; and all these formalitiesgreatly protracted the /defile/. 

Then there was an endless coming and going from the top to the bottom ofthe building, and from one to the other end of each of its four floors. M. Sabathier was one of the first to secure admittance, being placed in aground-floor room which was known as the Family Ward. Sick men were thereallowed to have their wives with them; but to the other wards of thehospital only women were admitted. Brother Isidore, it is true, wasaccompanied by his sister; however, by a special favour it was agreedthat they should be considered as conjoints, and the missionary wasaccordingly placed in the bed next to that allotted to M. Sabathier. Thechapel, still littered with plaster and with its unfinished windowsboarded up, was close at hand. There were also various wards in anunfinished state; still these were filled with mattresses, on whichsufferers were rapidly placed. All those who could walk, however, werealready besieging the refectory, a long gallery whose broad windowslooked into an inner courtyard; and the Saint-Frai Sisters, who managedthe hospital at other times, and had remained to attend to the cooking, began to distribute bowls of coffee and chocolate among the poor womenwhom the terrible journey had exhausted. 

"Rest yourselves and try to gain a little strength, " repeated BaronSuire, who was ever on the move, showing himself here, there, andeverywhere in rapid succession. "You have three good hours before you, itis not yet five, and their reverences have given orders that you are notto be taken to the Grotto until eight o'clock, so as to avoid anyexcessive fatigue. "

Meanwhile, up above on the second floor, Madame de Jonquiere had been oneof the first to take possession of the Sainte-Honorine Ward of which shewas the superintendent. She had been obliged to leave her daughterRaymonde downstairs, for the regulations did not allow young girls toenter the wards, where they might have witnessed sights that werescarcely proper or else too horrible for such eyes as theirs. Raymondehad therefore remained in the refectory as a helper; however, littleMadame Desagneaux, being a lady-hospitaller, had not left thesuperintendent, and was already asking her for orders, in her delightthat she should at last be able to render some assistance. 

"Are all these beds properly made, madame?" she inquired; "perhaps I hadbetter make them afresh with Sister Hyacinthe. "

The ward, whose walls were painted a light yellow, and whose few windowsadmitted but little light from an inner yard, contained fifteen beds, standing in two rows against the walls. 

"We will see by-and-by, " replied Madame de Jonquiere with an absorbedair. She was busy counting the beds and examining the long narrowapartment. And this accomplished she added in an undertone: "I shallnever have room enough. They say that I must accommodate twenty-threepatients. We shall have to put some mattresses down. "

Sister Hyacinthe, who had followed the ladies after leaving SisterSaint-Francois and Sister Claire des Anges in a small adjoining apartmentwhich was being transformed into a linen-room, then began to lift up thecoverlets and examine the bedding. And she promptly reassured MadameDesagneaux with regard to her surmises. "Oh! the beds are properly made, "she said; "everything is very clean too. One can see that the Saint-FraiSisters have attended to things themselves. The reserve mattresses are inthe next room, however, and if madame will lend me a hand we can placesome of them between the beds at once. 

"Oh, certainly!" exclaimed young Madame Desagneaux, quite excited by theidea of carrying mattresses about with her weak slender arms. 

It became necessary for Madame de Jonquiere to calm her. "By-and-by, "said the lady-superintendent; "there is no hurry. Let us wait till ourpatients arrive. I don't much like this ward, it is so difficult to air. Last year I had the Sainte-Rosalie Ward on the first floor. However, wewill organise matters, all the same. "

Some other lady-hospitallers were now arriving, quite a hiveful of busybees, all eager to start on their work. The confusion which so oftenarose was, in fact, increased by the excessive number of nurses, women ofthe aristocracy and upper-middle class, with whose fervent zeal somelittle vanity was blended. There were more than two hundred of them, andas each had to make a donation on joining the Hospitality of Our Lady ofSalvation, the managers did not dare to refuse any applicants, for fearlest they might check the flow of alms-giving. Thus the number oflady-hospitallers increased year by year. Fortunately there were amongthem some who cared for nothing beyond the privilege of wearing the redcloth cross, and who started off on excursions as soon as they reachedLourdes. Still it must be acknowledged that those who devoted themselveswere really deserving, for they underwent five days of awful fatigue, sleeping scarcely a couple of hours each night, and living in the midstof the most terrible and repulsive spectacles. They witnessed the deathagonies, dressed the pestilential sores, cleaned up, changed linen, turned the sufferers over in their beds, went through a sickening andoverwhelming labour to which they were in no wise accustomed. And thusthey emerged from it aching all over, tired to death, with feverish eyesflaming with the joy of the charity which so excited them. 

"And Madame Volmar?" suddenly asked Madame Desagneaux. "I thought weshould find her here. "

This was apparently a subject which Madame de Jonquiere did not care tohave discussed; for, as though she were aware of the truth and wished tobury it in silence, with the indulgence of a woman who compassionateshuman wretchedness, she promptly retorted: "Madame Volmar isn't strong, she must have gone to the hotel to rest. We must let her sleep. "

Then she apportioned the beds among the ladies present, allotting two toeach of them; and this done they all finished taking possession of theplace, hastening up and down and backwards and forwards in order toascertain where the offices, the linen-room, and the kitchens weresituated. 

"And the dispensary?" then asked one of the ladies. 

But there was no dispensary. There was no medical staff even. What wouldhave been the use of any?--since the patients were those whom science hadgiven up, despairing creatures who had come to beg of God the cure whichpowerless men were unable to promise them. Logically enough, alltreatment was suspended during the pilgrimage. If a patient seemed likelyto die, extreme unction was administered. The only medical man about theplace was the young doctor who had come by the white train with hislittle medicine chest; and his intervention was limited to an endeavourto assuage the sufferings of those patients who chanced to ask for himduring an attack. 

As it happened, Sister Hyacinthe was just bringing Ferrand, whom SisterSaint-Francois had kept with her in a closet near the linen-room which heproposed to make his quarters. "Madame, " said he to Madame de Jonquiere, "I am entirely at your disposal. In case of need you will only have toring for me. "

She barely listened to him, however, engaged as she was in a quarrel witha young priest belonging to the management with reference to a deficiencyof certain utensils. "Certainly, monsieur, if we should need a soothingdraught, " she answered, and then, reverting to her discussion, she wenton: "Well, Monsieur l'Abbe, you must certainly get me four or five more. How can we possibly manage with so few? Things are bad enough as it is. "

Ferrand looked and listened, quite bewildered by the extraordinarybehaviour of the people amongst whom he had been thrown by chance sincethe previous day. He who did not believe, who was only present out offriendship and charity, was amazed at this extraordinary scramble ofwretchedness and suffering rushing towards the hope of happiness. And, asa medical man of the new school, he was altogether upset by the carelessneglect of precautions, the contempt which was shown for the most simpleteachings of science, in the certainty which was apparently felt that, ifHeaven should so will it, cure would supervene, sudden and resounding, like a lie given to the very laws of nature. But if this were the case, what was the use of that last concession to human prejudices--why engagea doctor for the journey if none were wanted? At this thought the youngman returned to his little room, experiencing a vague feeling of shame ashe realised that his presence was useless, and even a trifle ridiculous. 

"Get some opium pills ready all the same, " said Sister Hyacinthe, as shewent back with him as far as the linen-room. "You will be asked for some, for I feel anxious about some of the patients. "

While speaking she looked at him with her large blue eyes, so gentle andso kind, and ever lighted by a divine smile. The constant exercise whichshe gave herself brought the rosy flush of her quick blood to her skinall dazzling with youthfulness. And like a good friend who was willingthat he should share the work to which she gave her heart, she added:"Besides, if I should need somebody to get a patient in or out of bed, you will help me, won't you?"

Thereupon, at the idea that he might be of use to her, he was pleasedthat he had come and was there. In his mind's eye, he again beheld her athis bedside, at the time when he had so narrowly escaped death, nursinghim with fraternal hands, with the smiling, compassionate grace of asexless angel, in whom there was something more than a comrade, somethingof a woman left. However, the thought never occurred to him that therewas religion, belief, behind her. 

"Oh! I will help you as much as you like, Sister, " he replied. "I belongto you, I shall be so happy to serve you. You know very well what a debtof gratitude I have to pay you. "

In a pretty way she raised her finger to her lips so as to silence him. Nobody owed her anything. She was merely the servant of the ailing andthe poor. 

At this moment a first patient was making her entry into theSainte-Honorine Ward. It was Marie, lying in her wooden box, whichPierre, with Gerard's assistance, had just brought up-stairs. The last tostart from the railway station, she had secured admission before theothers, thanks to the endless complications which, after keeping them allin suspense, now freed them according to the chance distribution of theadmission cards. M. De Guersaint had quitted his daughter at the hospitaldoor by her own desire; for, fearing the hotels would be very full, shehad wished him to secure two rooms for himself and Pierre at once. Then, on reaching the ward, she felt so weary that, after venting her chagrinat not being immediately taken to the Grotto, she consented to be laid ona bed for a short time. 

"Come, my child, " repeated Madame de Jonquiere, "you have three hoursbefore you. We will put you to bed. It will ease you to take you out ofthat case. "

Thereupon the lady-superintendent raised her by the shoulders, whilstSister Hyacinthe held her feet. The bed was in the central part of theward, near a window. For a moment the poor girl remained on it with hereyes closed, as though exhausted by being moved about so much. Then itbecame necessary that Pierre should be readmitted, for she grew veryfidgety, saying that there were things which she must explain to him. 

"Pray don't go away, my friend, " she exclaimed when he approached her. "Take the case out on to the landing, but stay there, because I want tobe taken down as soon as I can get permission. "

"Do you feel more comfortable now?" asked the young priest. 

"Yes, no doubt--but I really don't know. I so much want to be takenyonder to the Blessed Virgin's feet. "

However, when Pierre had removed the case, the successive arrivals of theother patients supplied her with some little diversion. Madame Vetu, whomtwo bearers had brought up-stairs, holding her under the arms, was laid, fully dressed, on the next bed, where she remained motionless, scarcebreathing, with her heavy, yellow, cancerous mask. None of the patients, it should be mentioned, were divested of their clothes, they were simplystretched out on the beds, and advised to go to sleep if they couldmanage to do so. Those whose complaints were less grievous contentedthemselves with sitting down on their mattresses, chatting together, andputting the things they had brought with them in order. For instance, Elise Rouquet, who was also near Marie, on the other side of the latter'sbed, opened her basket to take a clean fichu out of it, and seemed sorelyannoyed at having no hand-glass with her. In less than ten minutes allthe beds were occupied, so that when La Grivotte appeared, half carriedby Sister Hyacinthe and Sister Claire des Anges, it became necessary toplace some mattresses on the floor. 

"Here! here is one, " exclaimed Madame Desagneaux; "she will be very wellhere, out of the draught from the door. "

Seven other mattresses were soon added in a line, occupying the spacebetween the rows of beds, so that it became difficult to move about. Onehad to be very careful, and follow narrow pathways which had been leftbetween the beds and the mattresses. Each of the patients had retainedpossession of her parcel, or box, or bag, and round about the improvisedshakedowns were piles of poor old things, sorry remnants of garments, straying among the sheets and the coverlets. You might have thoughtyourself in some woeful infirmary, hastily organised after some greatcatastrophe, some conflagration or earthquake which had thrown hundredsof wounded and penniless beings into the streets. 

Madame de Jonquiere made her way from one to the other end of the ward, ever and ever repeating, "Come, my children, don't excite yourselves; tryto sleep a little. "

However, she did not succeed in calming them, and indeed, she herself, like the other lady-hospitallers under her orders, increased the generalfever by her own bewilderment. The linen of several patients had to bechanged, and there were other needs to be attended to. One woman, suffering from an ulcer in the leg, began moaning so dreadfully thatMadame Desagneaux undertook to dress her sore afresh; but she was notskilful, and despite all her passionate courage she almost fainted, sogreatly was she distressed by the unbearable odour. Those patients whowere in better health asked for broth, bowlfuls of which began tocirculate amidst the calls, the answers, and the contradictory orderswhich nobody executed. And meanwhile, let loose amidst this frightfulscramble, little Sophie Couteau, who remained with the Sisters, and wasvery gay, imagined that it was playtime, and ran, and jumped, and hoppedin turn, called and petted first by one and then by another, dear as shewas to all alike for the miraculous hope which she brought them. 

However, amidst this agitation, the hours went by. Seven o'clock had juststruck when Abbe Judaine came in. He was the chaplain of theSainte-Honorine Ward, and only the difficulty of finding an unoccupiedaltar at which he might say his mass had delayed his arrival. As soon ashe appeared, a cry of impatience arose from every bed. 

"Oh! Monsieur le Cure, let us start, let us start at once!"

An ardent desire, which each passing minute heightened and irritated, wasupbuoying them, like a more and more devouring thirst, which only thewaters of the miraculous fountain could appease. And more fervently thanany of the others, La Grivotte, sitting up on her mattress, and joiningher hands, begged and begged that she might be taken to the Grotto. Wasthere not a beginning of the miracle in this--in this awakening of herwill power, this feverish desire for cure which enabled her to setherself erect? Inert and fainting on her arrival, she was now seated, turning her dark glances in all directions, waiting and watching for thehappy moment when she would be removed. And colour also was returning toher livid face. She was already resuscitating. 

"Oh! Monsieur le Cure, pray do tell them to take me--I feel that I shallbe cured, " she exclaimed. 

With a loving, fatherly smile on his good-natured face, Abbe Judainelistened to them all, and allayed their impatience with kind words. Theywould soon set out; but they must be reasonable, and allow sufficienttime for things to be organised; and besides, the Blessed Virgin did notlike to have violence done her; she bided her time, and distributed herdivine favours among those who behaved themselves the best. 

As he paused before Marie's bed and beheld her, stammering entreatieswith joined hands, he again paused. "And you, too, my daughter, you arein a hurry?" he said. "Be easy, there is grace enough in heaven for youall. "

"I am dying of love, Father, " she murmured in reply. "My heart is soswollen with prayers, it stifles me--"

He was greatly touched by the passion of this poor emaciated child, soharshly stricken in her youth and beauty, and wishing to appease her, hecalled her attention to Madame Vetu, who did not move, though with hereyes wide open she stared at all who passed. 

"Look at madame, how quiet she is!" he said. "She is meditating, and shedoes right to place herself in God's hands, like a little child. "

However, in a scarcely audible voice, a mere breath, Madame Vetustammered: "Oh! I am suffering, I am suffering. "

At last, at a quarter to eight o'clock, Madame de Jonquiere warned hercharges that they would do well to prepare themselves. She herself, assisted by Sister Hyacinthe and Madame Desagneaux, buttoned severaldresses, and put shoes on impotent feet. It was a real toilette, for theyall desired to appear to the greatest advantage before the BlessedVirgin. A large number had sufficient sense of delicacy to wash theirhands. Others unpacked their parcels, and put on clean linen. On herside, Elise Rouquet had ended by discovering a little pocket-glass in thehands of a woman near her, a huge, dropsical creature, who was verycoquettish; and having borrowed it, she leant it against the bolster, andthen, with infinite care, began to fasten her fichu as elegantly aspossible about her head, in order to hide her distorted features. Meanwhile, erect in front of her, little Sophie watched her with an airof profound interest. 

It was Abbe Judaine who gave the signal for starting on the journey tothe Grotto. He wished, he said, to accompany his dear suffering daughtersthither, whilst the lady-hospitallers and the Sisters remained in theward, so as to put things in some little order again. Then the ward wasat once emptied, the patients being carried down-stairs amidst renewedtumult. And Pierre, having replaced Marie's box upon its wheels, took thefirst place in the /cortege/, which was formed of a score of littlehandcarts, bath-chairs, and litters. The other wards, however, were alsoemptying, the courtyard became crowded, and the /defile/ was organised inhaphazard fashion. There was soon an interminable train descending therather steep slope of the Avenue de la Grotte, so that Pierre was alreadyreaching the Plateau de la Merlasse when the last stretchers were barelyleaving the precincts of the hospital. 

It was eight o'clock, and the sun, already high, a triumphant August sun, was flaming in the great sky, which was beautifully clear. It seemed asif the blue of the atmosphere, cleansed by the storm of the previousnight, were quite new, fresh with youth. And the frightful /defile/, aperfect "Cour des Miracles" of human woe, rolled along the slopingpavement amid all the brilliancy of that radiant morning. There was noend to the train of abominations; it appeared to grow longer and longer. No order was observed, ailments of all kinds were jumbled together; itseemed like the clearing of some inferno where the most monstrousmaladies, the rare and awful cases which provoke a shudder, had beengathered together. Eczema, roseola, elephantiasis, presented a long arrayof doleful victims. Well-nigh vanished diseases reappeared; one old womanwas affected with leprosy, another was, covered with impetiginous lichenlike a tree which has rotted in the shade. Then came the dropsical ones, inflated like wine-skins; and beside some stretchers there dangled handstwisted by rheumatism, while from others protruded feet swollen by oedemabeyond all recognition, looking, in fact, like bags full of rags. Onewoman, suffering from hydrocephalus, sat in a little cart, the dolorousmotions of her head bespeaking her grievous malady. A tall girl afflictedwith chorea--St. Vitus's dance--was dancing with every limb, without apause, the left side of her face being continually distorted by sudden, convulsive grimaces. A younger one, who followed, gave vent to a bark, akind of plaintive animal cry, each time that the tic douloureux which wastorturing her twisted her mouth and her right cheek, which she seemed tothrow forward. Next came the consumptives, trembling with fever, exhausted by dysentery, wasted to skeletons, with livid skins, recallingthe colour of that earth in which they would soon be laid to rest; andthere was one among them who was quite white, with flaming eyes, wholooked indeed like a death's head in which a torch had been lighted. Thenevery deformity of the contractions followed in succession--twistedtrunks, twisted arms, necks askew, all the distortions of poor creatureswhom nature had warped and broken; and among these was one whose righthand was thrust back behind her ribs whilst her head fell to the leftresting fixedly upon her shoulder. Afterwards came poor rachitic girlsdisplaying waxen complexions and slender necks eaten away by sores, andyellow-faced women in the painful stupor which falls on those whosebosoms are devoured by cancers; whilst others, lying down with theirmournful eyes gazing heavenwards, seemed to be listening to the throbs ofthe tumours which obstructed their organs. And still more and more wentby; there was always something more frightful to come; this womanfollowing that other one increased the general shudder of horror. Fromthe neck of a girl of twenty who had a crushed, flattened head like atoad's, there hung so large a goitre that it fell even to her waist likethe bib of an apron. A blind woman walked along, her head erect, her facepale like marble, displaying the acute inflammation of her poor, ulcerated eyes. An aged woman stricken with imbecility, afflicted withdreadful facial disfigurements, laughed aloud with a terrifying laugh. And all at once an epileptic was seized with convulsions, and beganfoaming on her stretcher, without, however, causing any stoppage of theprocession, which never slackened its march, lashed onward as it was bythe blizzard of feverish passion which impelled it towards the Grotto. 

The bearers, the priests, and the ailing ones themselves had justintonated a canticle, the song of Bernadette, and all rolled along amidthe besetting "Aves, " so that the little carts, the litters, and thepedestrians descended the sloping road like a swollen and overflowingtorrent of roaring water. At the corner of the Rue Saint-Joseph, near thePlateau de la Merlasse, a family of excursionists, who had come fromCauterets or Bagneres, stood at the edge of the footway, overcome withprofound astonishment. These people were evidently well-to-do/bourgeois/, the father and mother very correct in appearance anddemeanour, while their two big girls, attired in light-coloured dresses, had the smiling faces of happy creatures who are amusing themselves. Buttheir first feeling of surprise was soon followed by terror, a growingterror, as if they beheld the opening of some pesthouse of ancient times, some hospital of the legendary ages, evacuated after a great epidemic. The two girls became quite pale, while the father and the mother felt icycold in presence of that endless /defile/ of so many horrors, thepestilential emanations of which were blown full in their faces. O God!to think that such hideousness, such filth, such suffering, should exist!Was it possible--under that magnificently radiant sun, under those broadheavens so full of light and joy whither the freshness of the Gave'swaters ascended, and the breeze of morning wafted the pure perfumes ofthe mountains!

When Pierre, at the head of the /cortege/, reached the Plateau de laMerlasse, he found himself immersed in that clear sunlight, that freshand balmy air. He turned round and smiled affectionately at Marie; and asthey came out on the Place du Rosaire in the morning splendour, they wereboth enchanted with the lovely panorama which spread around them. 

In front, on the east, was Old Lourdes, lying in a broad fold of theground beyond a rock. The sun was rising behind the distant mountains, and its oblique rays clearly outlined the dark lilac mass of thatsolitary rock, which was crowned by the tower and crumbling walls of theancient castle, once the redoubtable key of the seven valleys. Throughthe dancing, golden dust you discerned little of the ruined pile exceptsome stately outlines, some huge blocks of building which looked asthough reared by Cyclopean hands; and beyond the rock you but vaguelydistinguished the discoloured, intermingled house-roofs of the old town. Nearer in than the castle, however, the new town--the rich and noisy citywhich had sprung up in a few years as though by miracle--spread out oneither hand, displaying its hotels, its stylish shops, its lodging-housesall with white fronts smiling amidst patches of greenery. Then there wasthe Gave flowing along at the base of the rock, rolling clamorous, clearwaters, now blue and now green, now deep as they passed under the oldbridge, and now leaping as they careered under the new one, which theFathers of the Immaculate Conception had built in order to connect theGrotto with the railway station and the recently opened Boulevard. And asa background to this delightful picture, this fresh water, this greenery, this gay, scattered, rejuvenated town, the little and the big Gers arose, two huge ridges of bare rock and low herbage, which, in the projectedshade that bathed them, assumed delicate tints of pale mauve and green, fading softly into pink. 

Then, upon the north, on the right bank of the Gave, beyond the hillsfollowed by the railway line, the heights of La Buala ascended, theirwooded slopes radiant in the morning light. On that side lay Bartres. More to the left arose the Serre de Julos, dominated by the Miramont. Other crests, far off, faded away into the ether. And in the foreground, rising in tiers among the grassy valleys beyond the Gave, a number ofconvents, which seemed to have sprung up in this region of prodigies likeearly vegetation, imparted some measure of life to the landscape. First, there was an Orphan Asylum founded by the Sisters of Nevers, whose vastbuildings shone brightly in the sunlight. Next came the Carmeliteconvent, on the highway to Pau, just in front of the Grotto; and thenthat of the Assumptionists higher up, skirting the road to Poueyferre;whilst the Dominicans showed but a corner of their roofs, sequestered inthe far-away solitude. And at last appeared the establishment of theSisters of the Immaculate Conception, those who were called the BlueSisters, and who had founded at the far end of the valley a home wherethey received well-to-do lady pilgrims, desirous of solitude, asboarders. 

At that early hour all the bells of these convents were pealing joyfullyin the crystalline atmosphere, whilst the bells of other convents, on theother, the southern horizon, answered them with the same silvery strainsof joy. The bell of the nunnery of Sainte Clarissa, near the old bridge, rang a scale of gay, clear notes, which one might have fancied to be thechirruping of a bird. And on this side of the town, also, there werevalleys that dipped down between the ridges, and mountains that uprearedtheir bare sides, a commingling of smiling and of agitated nature, anendless surging of heights amongst which you noticed those of Visens, whose slopes the sunlight tinged ornately with soft blue and carmine of arippling, moire-like effect. 

However, when Marie and Pierre turned their eyes to the west, they werequite dazzled. The sun rays were here streaming on the large and thelittle Beout with their cupolas of unequal height. And on this side thebackground was one of gold and purple, a dazzling mountain on whose sidesone could only discern the road which snaked between the trees on its wayto the Calvary above. And here, too, against the sunlit background, radiant like an aureola, stood out the three superposed churches which atthe voice of Bernadette had sprung from the rock to the glory of theBlessed Virgin. First of all, down below, came the church of the Rosary, squat, circular, and half cut out of the rock, at the farther end of anesplanade on either side of which, like two huge arms, were colossalgradient ways ascending gently to the Crypt church. Vast labour had beenexpended here, a quarryful of stones had been cut and set in position, there were arches as lofty as naves supporting the gigantic terracedavenues which had been constructed so that the processions might rollalong in all their pomp, and the little conveyances containing sickchildren might ascend without hindrance to the divine presence. Then camethe Crypt, the subterranean church within the rock, with only its lowdoor visible above the church of the Rosary, whose paved roof, with itsvast promenade, formed a continuation of the terraced inclines. And atlast, from the summit sprang the Basilica, somewhat slender and frail, recalling some finely chased jewel of the Renascence, and looking verynew and very white--like a prayer, a spotless dove, soaring aloft fromthe rocks of Massabielle. The spire, which appeared the more delicate andslight when compared with the gigantic inclines below, seemed like thelittle vertical flame of a taper set in the midst of the vast landscape, those endless waves of valleys and mountains. By the side, too, of thedense greenery of the Calvary hill, it looked fragile and candid, likechildish faith; and at sight of it you instinctively thought of thelittle white arm, the little thin hand of the puny girl, who had herepointed to Heaven in the crisis of her human sufferings. You could notsee the Grotto, the entrance of which was on the left, at the base of therock. Beyond the Basilica, the only buildings which caught the eye werethe heavy square pile where the Fathers of the Immaculate Conception hadtheir abode, and the episcopal palace, standing much farther away, in aspreading, wooded valley. And the three churches were flaming in themorning glow, and the rain of gold scattered by the sun rays was sweepingthe whole countryside, whilst the flying peals of the bells seemed to bethe very vibration of the light, the musical awakening of the lovely daythat was now beginning. 

Whilst crossing the Place du Rosaire, Pierre and Marie glanced at theEsplanade, the public walk with its long central lawn skirted by broadparallel paths and extending as far as the new bridge. Here, with faceturned towards the Basilica, was the great crowned statue of the Virgin. All the sufferers crossed themselves as they went by. And stillpassionately chanting its canticle, the fearful /cortege/ rolled on, through nature in festive array. Under the dazzling sky, past themountains of gold and purple, amidst the centenarian trees, symbolical ofhealth, the running waters whose freshness was eternal, that /cortege/still and ever marched on with its sufferers, whom nature, if not God, had condemned, those who were afflicted with skin diseases, those whoseflesh was eaten away, those who were dropsical and inflated likewine-skins, and those whom rheumatism and paralysis had twisted intopostures of agony. And the victims of hydrocephalus followed, with thedancers of St. Vitus, the consumptives, the rickety, the epileptic, thecancerous, the goitrous, the blind, the mad, and the idiotic. "Ave, ave, ave, Maria!" they sang; and the stubborn plaint acquired increasedvolume, as nearer and nearer to the Grotto it bore that abominabletorrent of human wretchedness and pain, amidst all the fright and horrorof the passers-by, who stopped short, unable to stir, their hearts frozenas this nightmare swept before their eyes. 

Pierre and Marie were the first to pass under the lofty arcade of one ofthe terraced inclines. And then, as they followed the quay of the Gave, they all at once came upon the Grotto. And Marie, whom Pierre wheeled asnear to the railing as possible, was only able to raise herself in herlittle conveyance, and murmur: "O most Blessed Virgin, Virgin mostloved!"

She had seen neither the entrances to the piscinas nor the twelve-pipedfountain, which she had just passed; nor did she distinguish any betterthe shop on her left hand where crucifixes, chaplets, statuettes, pictures, and other religious articles were sold, or the stone pulpit onher right which Father Massias already occupied. Her eyes were dazzled bythe splendour of the Grotto; it seemed to her as if a hundred thousandtapers were burning there behind the railing, filling the low entrancewith the glow of a furnace and illuminating, as with star rays, thestatue of the Virgin, which stood, higher up, at the edge of a narrowogive-like cavity. And for her, apart from that glorious apparition, nothing existed there, neither the crutches with which a part of thevault had been covered, nor the piles of bouquets fading away amidst theivy and the eglantine, nor even the altar placed in the centre near alittle portable organ over which a cover had been thrown. However, as sheraised her eyes above the rock, she once more beheld the slender whiteBasilica profiled against the sky, its slight, tapering spire soaringinto the azure of the Infinite like a prayer. 

"O Virgin most powerful--Queen of the Virgins--Holy Virgin of Virgins!"

Pierre had now succeeded in wheeling Marie's box to the front rank, beyond the numerous oak benches which were set out here in the open airas in the nave of a church. Nearly all these benches were alreadyoccupied by those sufferers who could sit down, while the vacant spaceswere soon filled with litters and little vehicles whose wheels becameentangled together, and on whose close-packed mattresses and pillows allsorts of diseases were gathered pell-mell. Immediately on arriving, theyoung priest had recognised the Vignerons seated with their sorry childGustave in the middle of a bench, and now, on the flagstones, he caughtsight of the lace-trimmed bed of Madame Dieulafay, beside whom herhusband and sister knelt in prayer. Moreover, all the patients of Madamede Jonquiere's carriage took up position here--M. Sabathier and BrotherIsidore side by side, Madame Vetu reclining hopelessly in a conveyance, Elise Rouquet seated, La Grivotte excited and raising herself on herclenched hands. Pierre also again perceived Madame Maze, standingsomewhat apart from the others, and humbling herself in prayer; whilstMadame Vincent, who had fallen on her knees, still holding her littleRose in her arms, presented the child to the Virgin with ardent entreaty, the distracted gesture of a mother soliciting compassion from the motherof divine grace. And around this reserved space was the ever-growingthrong of pilgrims, the pressing, jostling mob which gradually stretchedto the parapet overlooking the Gave. 

"O Virgin most merciful, " continued Marie in an undertone, "Virgin mostfaithful, Virgin conceived without sin!"

Then, almost fainting, she spoke no more, but with her lips still moving, as though in silent prayer, gazed distractedly at Pierre. He thought thatshe wished to speak to him and leant forward: "Shall I remain here atyour disposal to take you to the piscina by-and-by?" he asked. 

But as soon as she understood him she shook her head. And then in afeverish way she said: "No, no, I don't want to be bathed this morning. It seems to me that one must be truly worthy, truly pure, truly holybefore seeking the miracle! I want to spend the whole morning inimploring it with joined hands; I want to pray, to pray with all mystrength and all my soul--" She was stifling, and paused. Then she added:"Don't come to take me back to the hospital till eleven o'clock. I willnot let them take me from here till then. "

However, Pierre did not go away, but remained near her. For a moment, heeven fell upon his knees; he also would have liked to pray with the sameburning faith, to beg of God the cure of that poor sick child, whom heloved with such fraternal affection. But since he had reached the Grottohe had felt a singular sensation invading him, a covert revolt, as itwere, which hampered the pious flight of his prayer. He wished tobelieve; he had spent the whole night hoping that belief would once moreblossom in his soul, like some lovely flower of innocence and candour, assoon as he should have knelt upon the soil of that land of miracle. Andyet he only experienced discomfort and anxiety in presence of thetheatrical scene before him, that pale stiff statue in the false light ofthe tapers, with the chaplet shop full of jostling customers on the onehand, and the large stone pulpit whence a Father of the Assumption wasshouting "Aves" on the other. Had his soul become utterly withered then?Could no divine dew again impregnate it with innocence, render it likethe souls of little children, who at the slightest caressing touch of thesacred legend give themselves to it entirely?

Then, while his thoughts were still wandering, he recognised FatherMassias in the ecclesiastic who occupied the pulpit. He had formerlyknown him, and was quite stirred by his sombre ardour, by the sight ofhis thin face and sparkling eyes, by the eloquence which poured from hislarge mouth as he offered violence to Heaven to compel it to descend uponearth. And whilst he thus examined Father Massias, astonished at feelinghimself so unlike the preacher, he caught sight of Father Fourcade, who, at the foot of the pulpit, was deep in conference with Baron Suire. Thelatter seemed much perplexed by something which Father Fourcade said tohim; however he ended by approving it with a complaisant nod. Then, asAbbe Judaine was also standing there, Father Fourcade likewise spoke tohim for a moment, and a scared expression came over the Abbe's broad, fatherly face while he listened; nevertheless, like the Baron, he at lastbowed assent. 

Then, all at once, Father Fourcade appeared in the pulpit, erect, drawingup his lofty figure which his attack of gout had slightly bent; and hehad not wished that Father Massias, his well-loved brother, whom hepreferred above all others, should altogether go down the narrowstairway, for he had kept him upon one of the steps, and was leaning onhis shoulder. And in a full, grave voice, with an air of sovereignauthority which caused perfect silence to reign around, he spoke asfollows:

"My dear brethren, my dear sisters, I ask your forgiveness forinterrupting your prayers, but I have a communication to make to you, andI have to ask the help of all your faithful souls. We had a very sadaccident to deplore this morning, one of our brethren died in one of thetrains by which you came to Lourdes, died just as he was about to setfoot in the promised land. "

A brief pause followed and Father Fourcade seemed to become yet taller, his handsome face beaming with fervour, amidst his long, streaming, royalbeard. 

"Well, my dear brethren, my dear sisters, " he resumed, "in spite ofeverything, the idea has come to me that we ought not to despair. Whoknows if God Almighty did not will that death in order that He mightprove His Omnipotence to the world? It is as though a voice were speakingto me, urging me to ascend this pulpit and ask your prayers for this man, this man who is no more, but whose life is nevertheless in the hands ofthe most Blessed Virgin who can still implore her Divine Son in hisfavour. Yes, the man is here, I have caused his body to be broughthither, and it depends on you, perhaps, whether a brilliant miracle shalldazzle the universe, if you pray with sufficient ardour to touch thecompassion of Heaven. We will plunge the man's body into the piscina andwe will entreat the Lord, the master of the world, to resuscitate him, togive unto us this extraordinary sign of His sovereign beneficence!"

An icy thrill, wafted from the Invisible, passed through the listeners. They had all become pale, and though the lips of none of them had opened, it seemed as if a murmur sped through their ranks amidst a shudder. 

"But with what ardour must we not pray!" violently resumed FatherFourcade, exalted by genuine faith. "It is your souls, your whole souls, that I ask of you, my dear brothers, my dear sisters, it is a prayer inwhich you must put your hearts, your blood, your very life with whatevermay be most noble and loving in it! Pray with all your strength, praytill you no longer know who you are, or where you are; pray as one loves, pray as one dies, for that which we are about to ask is so precious, sorare, so astounding a grace that only the energy of our worship caninduce God to answer us. And in order that our prayers may be the moreefficacious, in order that they may have time to spread and ascend to thefeet of the Eternal Father, we will not lower the body into the piscinauntil four o'clock this afternoon. And now my dear brethren, now my dearsisters, pray, pray to the most Blessed Virgin, the Queen of the Angels, the Comforter of the Afflicted!"

Then he himself, distracted by emotion, resumed the recital of therosary, whilst near him Father Massias burst into sobs. And thereupon thegreat anxious silence was broken, contagion seized upon the throng, itwas transported and gave vent to shouts, tears, and confused stammeredentreaties. It was as though a breath of delirium were sweeping by, reducing men's wills to naught, and turning all these beings into onebeing, exasperated with love and seized with a mad desire for theimpossible prodigy. 

And for a moment Pierre had thought that the ground was giving waybeneath him, that he was about to fall and faint. But with difficulty hemanaged to rise from his knees and slowly walked away. 

III

FOUNTAIN AND PISCINA

As Pierre went off, ill at ease, mastered by invincible repugnance, unwilling to remain there any longer, he caught sight of M. De Guersaint, kneeling near the Grotto, with the absorbed air of one who is prayingwith his whole soul. The young priest had not seen him since the morning, and did not know whether he had managed to secure a couple of rooms inone or other of the hotels, so that his first impulse was to go and joinhim. Then, however, he hesitated, unwilling to disturb his meditations, for he was doubtless praying for his daughter, whom he fondly loved, inspite of the constant absent-mindedness of his volatile brain. Accordingly, the young priest passed on, and took his way under thetrees. Nine o'clock was now striking, he had a couple of hours beforehim. 

By dint of money, the wild bank where swine had formerly pastured hadbeen transformed into a superb avenue skirting the Gave. It had beennecessary to put back the river's bed in order to gain ground, and layout a monumental quay bordered by a broad footway, and protected by aparapet. Some two or three hundred yards farther on, a hill brought theavenue to an end, and it thus resembled an enclosed promenade, providedwith benches, and shaded by magnificent trees. Nobody passed along, however; merely the overflow of the crowd had settled there, and solitaryspots still abounded between the grassy wall limiting the promenade onthe south, and the extensive fields spreading out northward beyond theGave, as far as the wooded slopes which the white-walled conventsbrightened. Under the foliage, on the margin of the running water, onecould enjoy delightful freshness, even during the burning days of August. 

Thus Pierre, like a man at last awakening from a painful dream, soonfound rest of mind again. He had questioned himself in the acute anxietywhich he felt with regard to his sensations. Had he not reached Lourdesthat morning possessed by a genuine desire to believe, an idea that hewas indeed again beginning to believe even as he had done in the dociledays of childhood when his mother had made him join his hands, and taughthim to fear God? Yet as soon as he had found himself at the Grotto, theidolatry of the worship, the violence of the display of faith, theonslaught upon human reason which he witnessed, had so disturbed him thathe had almost fainted. What would become of him then? Could he not eventry to contend against his doubts by examining things and convincinghimself of their truth, thus turning his journey to profit? At allevents, he had made a bad beginning, which left him sorely agitated, andhe indeed needed the environment of those fine trees, that limpid, rushing water, that calm, cool avenue, to recover from the shock. 

Still pondering, he was approaching the end of the pathway, when he mostunexpectedly met a forgotten friend. He had, for a few seconds, beenlooking at a tall old gentleman who was coming towards him, dressed in atightly buttoned frock-coat and broad-brimmed hat; and he had tried toremember where it was that he had previously beheld that pale face, witheagle nose, and black and penetrating eyes. These he had seen before, hefelt sure of it; but the promenader's long white beard and long curlywhite hair perplexed him. However, the other halted, also lookingextremely astonished, though he promptly exclaimed, "What, Pierre? Is ityou, at Lourdes?"

Then all at once the young priest recognised Doctor Chassaigne, hisfather's old friend, his own friend, the man who had cured and consoledhim in the terrible physical and mental crisis which had come upon himafter his mother's death. 

"Ah! my dear doctor, how pleased I am to see you!" he replied. 

They embraced with deep emotion. And now, in presence of that snowy hairand snowy beard, that slow walk, that sorrowful demeanour, Pierreremembered with what unrelenting ferocity misfortune had fallen on thatunhappy man and aged him. But a few years had gone by, and now, when theymet again, he was bowed down by destiny. 

"You did not know, I suppose, that I had remained at Lourdes?" said thedoctor. "It's true that I no longer write to anybody; in fact, I am nolonger among the living. I live in the land of the dead. " Tears weregathering in his eyes, and emotion made his voice falter as he resumed:"There! come and sit down on that bench yonder; it will please me to livethe old days afresh with you, just for a moment. "

In his turn the young priest felt his sobs choking him. He could onlymurmur: "Ah! my dear doctor, my old friend, I can truly tell you that Ipitied you with my whole heart, my whole soul. "

Doctor Chassaigne's story was one of disaster, the shipwreck of a life. He and his daughter Marguerite, a tall and lovable girl of twenty, hadgone to Cauterets with Madame Chassaigne, the model wife and mother, whose state of health had made them somewhat anxious. A fortnight hadelapsed and she seemed much better, and was already planning severalpleasure trips, when one morning she was found dead in her bed. Herhusband and daughter were overwhelmed, stupefied by this sudden blow, this cruel treachery of death. The doctor, who belonged to Bartres, had afamily vault in the Lourdes cemetery, a vault constructed at his ownexpense, and in which his father and mother already rested. He desired, therefore, that his wife should be interred there, in a compartmentadjoining that in which he expected soon to lie himself. And after theburial he had lingered for a week at Lourdes, when Marguerite, who waswith him, was seized with a great shivering, and, taking to her bed oneevening, died two days afterwards without her distracted father beingable to form any exact notion of the illness which had carried her off. And thus it was not himself, but his daughter, lately radiant with beautyand health, in the very flower of her youth, who was laid in the vacantcompartment by the mother's side. The man who had been so happy, soworshipped by his two helpmates, whose heart had been kept so warm by thelove of two dear creatures all his own, was now nothing more than an old, miserable, stammering, lost being, who shivered in his icy solitude. Allthe joy of his life had departed; he envied the men who broke stones uponthe highways when he saw their barefooted wives and daughters bring themtheir dinners at noontide. And he had refused to leave Lourdes, he hadrelinquished everything, his studies, his practice in Paris, in orderthat he might live near the tomb in which his wife and his daughter sleptthe eternal sleep. 

"Ah, my old friend, " repeated Pierre, "how I pitied you! How frightfulmust have been your grief! But why did you not rely a little on those wholove you? Why did you shut yourself up here with your sorrow?"

The doctor made a gesture which embraced the horizon. "I could not goaway, they are here and keep me with them. It is all over, I am merelywaiting till my time comes to join them again. "

Then silence fell. Birds were fluttering among the shrubs on the bankbehind them, and in front they heard the loud murmur of the Gave. The sunrays were falling more heavily in a slow, golden dust, upon thehillsides; but on that retired bench under the beautiful trees, thecoolness was still delightful. And although the crowd was but a couple ofhundred yards distant, they were, so to say, in a desert, for nobody torehimself away from the Grotto to stray as far as the spot which they hadchosen. 

They talked together for a long time, and Pierre related under whatcircumstances he had reached Lourdes that morning with M. De Guersaintand his daughter, all three forming part of the national pilgrimage. Thenall at once he gave a start of astonishment and exclaimed: "What! doctor, so you now believe that miracles are possible? You, good heavens! whom Iknew as an unbeliever, or at least as one altogether indifferent to thesematters?"

He was gazing at M. Chassaigne quite stupefied by something which he hadjust heard him say of the Grotto and Bernadette. It was amazing, comingfrom a man with so strong a mind, a /savant/ of such intelligence, whosepowerful analytical faculties he had formerly so much admired! How was itthat a lofty, clear mind, nourished by experience and method, had becomeso changed as to acknowledge the miraculous cures effected by that divinefountain which the Blessed Virgin had caused to spurt forth under thepressure of a child's fingers?

"But just think a little, my dear doctor, " he resumed. "It was youyourself who supplied my father with memoranda about Bernadette, yourlittle fellow-villager as you used to call her; and it was you, too, whospoke to me at such length about her, when, later on, I took a momentaryinterest in her story. In your eyes she was simply an ailing child, proneto hallucinations, infantile, but self-conscious of her acts, deficientof will-power. Recollect our chats together, my doubts, and the healthyreason which you again enabled me, to acquire!"

Pierre was feeling very moved, for was not this the strangest ofadventures? He a priest, who in a spirit of resignation had formerlyendeavoured to believe, had ended by completely losing all faith throughintercourse with this same doctor, who was then an unbeliever, but whomhe now found converted, conquered by the supernatural, whilst he himselfwas racked by the torture of no longer believing. 

"You who would only rely on accurate facts, " he said, "you who basedeverything on observation! Do you renounce science then?"

Chassaigne, hitherto quiet, with a sorrowful smile playing on his lips, now made a violent gesture expressive of sovereign contempt. "Scienceindeed!" he exclaimed. "Do I know anything? Can I accomplish anything?You asked me just now what malady it was that killed my poor Marguerite. But I do not know! I, whom people think so learned, so well armed againstdeath, I understood nothing of it, and I could do nothing--not evenprolong my daughter's life for a single hour! And my wife, whom I foundin bed already cold, when on the previous evening she had lain down inmuch better health and quite gay--was I even capable of foreseeing whatought to have been done in her case? No, no! for me at all events, science has become bankrupt. I wish to know nothing; I am but a fool anda poor old man!"

He spoke like this in a furious revolt against all his past life of prideand happiness. Then, having become calm again, he added: "And now I onlyfeel a frightful remorse. Yes, a remorse which haunts me, which everbrings me here, prowling around the people who are praying. It is remorsefor not having in the first instance come and humbled myself at thatGrotto, bringing my two dear ones with me. They would have knelt therelike those women whom you see, I should have knelt beside them, andperhaps the Blessed Virgin would have cured and preserved them. But, foolthat I was, I only knew how to lose them! It is my fault. "

Tears were now streaming from his eyes. "I remember, " he continued, "thatin my childhood at Bartres, my mother, a peasant woman, made me join myhands and implore God's help each morning. The prayer she taught me cameback to my mind, word for word, when I again found myself alone, as weak, as lost, as a little child. What would you have, my friend? I joined myhands as in my younger days, I felt too wretched, too forsaken, I had tookeen a need of a superhuman help, of a divine power which should thinkand determine for me, which should lull me and carry me on with itseternal prescience. How great at first was the confusion, the aberrationof my poor brain, under the frightful, heavy blow which fell upon it! Ispent a score of nights without being able to sleep, thinking that Ishould surely go mad. All sorts of ideas warred within me; I passedthrough periods of revolt when I shook my fist at Heaven, and then Ilapsed into humility, entreating God to take me in my turn. And it was atlast a conviction that there must be justice, a conviction that theremust be love, which calmed me by restoring me my faith. You knew mydaughter, so tall and strong, so beautiful, so brimful of life. Would itnot be the most monstrous injustice if for her, who did not know life, there should be nothing beyond the tomb? She will live again, I amabsolutely convinced of it, for I still hear her at times, she tells methat we shall meet, that we shall see one another again. Oh! the dearbeings whom one has lost, my dear daughter, my dear wife, to see themonce more, to live with them elsewhere, that is the one hope, the oneconsolation for all the sorrows of this world! I have given myself toGod, since God alone can restore them to me!"

He was shaking with a slight tremor, like the weak old man he had become;and Pierre was at last able to understand and explain the conversion ofthis /savant/, this man of intellect who, growing old, had reverted tobelief under the influence of sentiment. First of all, and this he hadpreviously suspected, he discovered a kind of atavism of faith in thisPyrenean, this son of peasant mountaineers, who had been brought up inbelief of the legend, and whom the legend had again mastered even whenfifty years, of positive study had rolled over it. Then, too, there washuman weariness; this man, to whom science had not brought happiness, revolted against science on the day when it seemed to him shallow, powerless to prevent him from shedding tears. And finally there wasdiscouragement, a doubt of all things, ending in a need of certainty onthe part of one whom age had softened, and who felt happy at being ableto fall asleep in credulity. 

Pierre did not protest, however; he did not jeer, for his heart was rentat sight of this tall, stricken old man, with his woeful senility. Is itnot indeed pitiful to see the strongest, the clearest-minded become merechildren again under such blows of fate? "Ah!" he faintly sighed, "if Icould only suffer enough to be able to silence my reason, and kneelyonder and believe in all those fine stories. "

The pale smile, which at times still passed over Doctor Chassaigne'slips, reappeared on them. "You mean the miracles?" said he. "You are apriest, my child, and I know what your misfortune is. The miracles seemimpossible to you. But what do you know of them? Admit that you knownothing, and that what to our senses seems impossible is every minutetaking place. And now we have been talking together for a long time, andeleven o'clock will soon strike, so that you must return to the Grotto. However, I shall expect you, at half-past three, when I will take you tothe Medical Verification Office, where I hope I shall be able to show yousome surprising things. Don't forget, at half-past three. "

Thereupon he sent him off, and remained on the bench alone. The heat hadyet increased, and the distant hills were burning in the furnace-likeglow of the sun. However, he lingered there forgetfully, dreaming in thegreeny half-light amidst the foliage, and listening to the continuousmurmur of the Gave, as if a voice, a dear voice from the realms beyond, were speaking to him. 

Pierre meantime hastened back to Marie. He was able to join her withoutmuch difficulty, for the crowd was thinning, a good many people havingalready gone off to /dejeuner/. And on arriving he perceived the girl'sfather, who was quietly seated beside her, and who at once wished toexplain to him the reason of his long absence. For more than a couple ofhours that morning he had scoured Lourdes in all directions, applying attwenty hotels in turn without being able to find the smallest closetwhere they might sleep. Even the servants' rooms were let and you couldnot have even secured a mattress on which to stretch yourself in somepassage. However, all at once, just as he was despairing, he haddiscovered two rooms, small ones, it is true, and just under the roof, but in a very good hotel, that of the Apparitions, one of the bestpatronised in the town. The persons who had retained these rooms had justtelegraphed that the patient whom they had meant to bring with them wasdead. Briefly, it was a piece of rare good luck, and seemed to make M. DeGuersaint quite gay. 

Eleven o'clock was now striking and the woeful procession of sufferersstarted off again through the sunlit streets and squares. When it reachedthe hospital Marie begged her father and Pierre to go to the hotel, lunchand rest there awhile, and return to fetch her at two o'clock, when thepatients would again be conducted to the Grotto. But when, afterlunching, the two men went up to the rooms which they were to occupy atthe Hotel of the Apparitions, M. De Guersaint, overcome by fatigue, fellso soundly asleep that Pierre had not the heart to awaken him. What wouldhave been the use of it? His presence was not indispensable. And so theyoung priest returned to the hospital alone. Then the /cortege/ againdescended the Avenue de la Grotte, again wended its way over the Plateaude la Merlasse, again crossed the Place du Rosaire, past an ever-growingcrowd which shuddered and crossed itself amid all the joyousness of thatsplendid August day. It was now the most glorious hour of a lovelyafternoon. 

When Marie was again installed in front of the Grotto she inquired if herfather were coming. "Yes, " answered Pierre; "he is only taking a littlerest. "

She waved her hand as though to say that he was acting rightly, and thenin a sorely troubled voice she added: "Listen, Pierre; don't take me tothe piscina for another hour. I am not yet in a state to find favour fromHeaven, I wish to pray, to keep on praying. "

After evincing such an ardent desire to come to Lourdes, terror wasagitating her now that the moment for attempting the miracle was at hand. In fact, she began to relate that she had been unable to eat anything, and a girl who overheard her at once approached saying: "If you feel tooweak, my dear young lady, remember we have some broth here. "

Marie looked at her and recognised Raymonde. Several young girls were inthis wise employed at the Grotto to distribute cups of broth and milkamong the sufferers. Some of them, indeed, in previous years haddisplayed so much coquetry in the matter of silk, aprons trimmed withlace, that a uniform apron, of modest linen, with a small check pattern, blue and white, had been imposed on them. Nevertheless, in spite of thisenforced simplicity, Raymonde, thanks to her freshness and her active, good-natured, housewifely air, had succeeded in making herself look quitecharming. 

"You will remember, won't you?" she added; "you have only to make me asign and I will serve you. "

Marie thanked her, saying, however, that she felt sure she would not beable to take anything; and then, turning towards the young priest, sheresumed: "One hour--you must allow me one more hour, my friend. "

Pierre wished at any rate to remain near her, but the entire space wasreserved to the sufferers, the bearers not being allowed there. So he hadto retire, and, caught in the rolling waves of the crowd, he foundhimself carried towards the piscinas, where he came upon an extraordinaryspectacle which stayed his steps. In front of the low buildings where thebaths were, three by three, six for the women and three for the men, heperceived under the trees a long stretch of ground enclosed by a ropefastened to the tree-trunks; and here, various sufferers, some sitting intheir bath-chairs and others lying on the mattresses of their litters, were drawn up in line, waiting to be bathed, whilst outside the rope, ahuge, excited throng was ever pressing and surging. A Capuchin, erect inthe centre of the reserved space, was at that moment conducting theprayers. "Aves" followed one after the other, repeated by the crowd in aloud confused murmur. Then, all at once, as Madame Vincent, who, palewith agony, had long been waiting, was admitted to the baths, carryingher dear burden, her little girl who looked like a waxen image of thechild Christ, the Capuchin let himself fall upon his knees with his armsextended, and cried aloud: "Lord, heal our sick!" He raised this cry adozen, twenty times, with a growing fury, and each time the crowdrepeated it, growing more and more excited at each shout, till it sobbedand kissed the ground in a state of frenzy. It was like a hurricane ofdelirium rushing by and laying every head in the dust. Pierre was utterlydistracted by the sob of suffering which arose from the very bowels ofthese poor folks--at first a prayer, growing louder and louder, thenbursting forth like a demand in impatient, angry, deafening, obstinateaccents, as though to compel the help of Heaven. "Lord, heal oursick!"--"Lord, heal our sick!" The shout soared on high incessantly. 

An incident occurred, however; La Grivotte was weeping hot tears becausethey would not bathe her. "They say that I'm a consumptive, " sheplaintively exclaimed, "and that they can't dip consumptives in coldwater. Yet they dipped one this morning; I saw her. So why won't they dipme? I've been wearing myself out for the last half-hour in telling themthat they are only grieving the Blessed Virgin, for I am going to becured, I feel it, I am going to be cured!"

As she was beginning to cause a scandal, one of the chaplains of thepiscinas approached and endeavoured to calm her. They would see what theycould do for her, by-and-by, said he; they would consult the reverendFathers, and, if she were very good, perhaps they would bathe her all thesame. 

Meantime the cry continued: "Lord, heal our sick! Lord, heal our sick!"And Pierre, who had just perceived Madame Vetu, also waiting at thepiscina entry, could no longer turn his eyes away from her hope-torturedface, whose eyes were fixed upon the doorway by which the happy ones, theelect, emerged from the divine presence, cured of all their ailments. However, a sudden increase of the crowd's frenzy, a perfect rage ofentreaties, gave him such a shock as to draw tears from his eyes. MadameVincent was now coming out again, still carrying her little girl in herarms, her wretched, her fondly loved little girl, who had been dipped ina fainting state in the icy water, and whose little face, but imperfectlywiped, was as pale as ever, and indeed even more woeful and lifeless. Themother was sobbing, crucified by this long agony, reduced to despair bythe refusal of the Blessed Virgin, who had remained insensible to herchild's sufferings. And yet when Madame Vetu in her turn entered, withthe eager passion of a dying woman about to drink the water of life, thehaunting, obstinate cry burst out again, without sign of discouragementor lassitude: "Lord, heal our sick! Lord, heal our sick!" The Capuchinhad now fallen with his face to the ground, and the howling crowd, witharms outstretched, devoured the soil with its kisses. 

Pierre wished to join Madame Vincent to soothe her with a few kind, encouraging words; however, a fresh string of pilgrims not only preventedhim from passing, but threw him towards the fountain which another throngbesieged. There was here quite a range of low buildings, a long stonewall with carved coping, and it had been necessary for the people to formin procession, although there were twelve taps from which the water fellinto a narrow basin. Many came hither to fill bottles, metal cans, andstoneware pitchers. To prevent too great a waste of water, the tap onlyacted when a knob was pressed with the hand. And thus many weak-handedwomen lingered there a long time, the water dripping on their feet. Thosewho had no cans to fill at least came to drink and wash their faces. Pierre noticed one young man who drank seven small glassfuls of water, and washed his eyes seven times without wiping them. Others were drinkingout of shells, tin goblets, and leather cups. And he was particularlyinterested by the sight of Elise Rouquet, who, thinking it useless to goto the piscinas to bathe the frightful sore which was eating away herface, had contented herself with employing the water of the fountain as alotion, every two hours since her arrival that morning. She knelt down, threw back her fichu, and for a long time applied a handkerchief to herface--a handkerchief which she had soaked with the miraculous fluid likea sponge; and the crowd around rushed upon the fountain in such fury thatfolks no longer noticed her diseased face, but washed themselves anddrank from the same pipe at which she constantly moistened herhandkerchief. 

Just then, however, Gerard, who passed by dragging M. Sabathier to thepiscinas, called to Pierre, whom he saw unoccupied, and asked him to comeand help him, for it would not be an easy task to move and bathe thishelpless victim of ataxia. And thus Pierre lingered with the sufferer inthe men's piscina for nearly half an hour, whilst Gerard returned to theGrotto to fetch another patient. These piscinas seemed to the youngpriest to be very well arranged. They were divided into threecompartments, three baths separated by partitions, with steps leadinginto them. In order that one might isolate the patient, a linen curtainhug before each entry, which was reached through a kind of waiting-roomhaving a paved floor, and furnished with a bench and a couple of chairs. Here the patients undressed and dressed themselves with an awkward haste, a nervous kind of shame. One man, whom Pierre found there when heentered, was still naked, and wrapped himself in the curtain beforeputting on a bandage with trembling hands. Another one, a consumptive whowas frightfully emaciated, sat shivering and groaning, his livid skinmottled with violet marks. However, Pierre became more interested inBrother Isidore, who was just being removed from one of the baths. He hadfainted away, and for a moment, indeed, it was thought that he was dead. But at last he began moaning again, and one's heart filled with pity atsight of his long, lank frame, which suffering had withered, and which, with his diseased hip, looked a human remnant on exhibition. The twohospitallers who had been bathing him had the greatest difficulty to puton his shirt, fearful as they were that if he were suddenly shaken hemight expire in their arms. 

"You will help me, Monsieur l'Abbe, won't you?" asked another hospitalleras he began to undress M. Sabathier. 

Pierre hastened to give his services, and found that the attendant, discharging such humble duties, was none other than the Marquis deSalmon-Roquebert whom M. De Guersaint had pointed out to him on the wayfrom the station to the hospital that morning. A man of forty, with alarge, aquiline, knightly nose set in a long face, the Marquis was thelast representative of one of the most ancient and illustrious familiesof France. Possessing a large fortune, a regal mansion in the Rue deLille at Paris, and vast estates in Normandy, he came to Lourdes eachyear, for the three days of the national pilgrimage, influenced solely byhis benevolent feelings, for he had no religious zeal and simply observedthe rites of the Church because it was customary for noblemen to do so. And he obstinately declined any high functions. Resolved to remain ahospitaller, he had that year assumed the duty of bathing the patients, exhausting the strength of his arms, employing his fingers from morningtill night in handling rags and re-applying dressings to sores. 

"Be careful, " he said to Pierre; "take off the stockings very slowly. Just now, some flesh came away when they were taking off the things ofthat poor fellow who is being dressed again, over yonder. "

Then, leaving M. Sabathier for a moment in order to put on the shoes ofthe unhappy sufferer whom he alluded to, the Marquis found the left shoewet inside. Some matter had flowed into the fore part of it, and he hadto take the usual medical precautions before putting it on the patient'sfoot, a task which he performed with extreme care; and so as not to touchthe man's leg, into which an ulcer was eating. 

"And now, " he said to Pierre, as he returned to M. Sabathier, "pull downthe drawers at the same time I do, so that we may get them off at onepull. "

In addition to the patients and the hospitallers selected for duty at thepiscinas, the only person in the little dressing-room was a chaplain whokept on repeating "Paters" and "Aves, " for not even a momentary pause wasallowed in the prayers. Merely a loose curtain hung before the doorwayleading to the open space which the rope enclosed; and the ardentclamorous entreaties of the throng were incessantly wafted into the room, with the piercing shouts of the Capuchin, who ever repeated "Lord, healour sick! Lord, heal our sick!" A cold light fell from the high windowsof the building and constant dampness reigned there, with the mouldysmell like that of a cellar dripping with water. 

At last M. Sabathier was stripped, divested of all garments save a littleapron which had been fastened about his loins for decency's sake. 

"Pray don't plunge me, " said he; "let me down into the water by degrees. "

In point of fact that cold water quite terrified him. He was still wontto relate that he had experienced such a frightful chilling sensation onthe first occasion that he had sworn never to go in again. According tohis account, there could be no worse torture than that icy cold. And thentoo, as he put it, the water was scarcely inviting; for, through fearlest the output of the source should not suffice, the Fathers of theGrotto only allowed the water of the baths to be changed twice a day. Andnearly a hundred patients being dipped in the same water, it can beimagined what a terrible soup the latter at last became. All manner ofthings were found in it, so that it was like a frightful /consomme/ ofall ailments, a field of cultivation for every kind of poisonous germ, aquintessence of the most dreaded contagious diseases; the miraculousfeature of it all being that men should emerge alive from their immersionin such filth. 

"Gently, gently, " repeated M. Sabathier to Pierre and the Marquis, whohad taken hold of him under the hips in order to carry him to the bath. And he gazed with childlike terror at that thick, livid water on whichfloated so many greasy, nauseating patches of scum. However, his dread ofthe cold was so great that he preferred the polluted baths of theafternoon, since all the bodies that were dipped in the water during theearly part of the day ended by slightly warming it. 

"We will let you slide down the steps, " exclaimed the Marquis in anundertone; and then he instructed Pierre to hold the patient with all hisstrength under the arm-pits. 

"Have no fear, " replied the priest; "I will not let go. "

M. Sabathier was then slowly lowered. You could now only see his back, his poor painful back which swayed and swelled, mottled by the ripplingof a shiver. And when they dipped him his head fell back in a spasm, asound like the cracking of bones was heard, and breathing hard, he almoststifled. 

The chaplain, standing beside the bath, had begun calling with renewedfervour: "Lord, heal our sick! Lord, heal our sick!"

M. De Salmon-Roquebert repeated the cry, which the regulations requiredthe hospitallers to raise at each fresh immersion. Pierre, therefore, hadto imitate his companion, and his pitiful feelings at the sight of somuch suffering were so intense that he regained some little of his faith. It was long indeed since he had prayed like this, devoutly wishing thatthere might be a God in heaven, whose omnipotence could assuage thewretchedness of humanity. At the end of three or four minutes, however, when with great difficulty they drew M. Sabathier, livid and shivering, out of the bath, the young priest fell into deeper, more despairingsorrow than ever at beholding how downcast, how overwhelmed the suffererwas at having experienced no relief. Again had he made a futile attempt;for the seventh time the Blessed Virgin had not deigned to listen to hisprayers. He closed his eyes, from between the lids of which big tearsbegan to roll while they were dressing him again. 

Then Pierre recognised little Gustave Vigneron coming in, on his crutch, to take his first bath. His relatives, his father, his mother, and hisaunt, Madame Chaise, all three of substantial appearance and exemplarypiety, had just fallen on their knees at the door. Whispers ran throughthe crowd; it was said that the gentleman was a functionary of theMinistry of Finances. However, while the child was beginning to undress, a tumult arose, and Father Fourcade and Father Massias, suddenlyarriving, gave orders to suspend the immersions. The great miracle wasabout to be attempted, the extraordinary favour which had been soardently prayed for since the morning--the restoration of the dead man tolife. 

The prayers were continuing outside, rising in a furious appeal whichdied away in the sky of that warm summer afternoon. Two bearers came inwith a covered stretcher, which they deposited in the middle of thedressing-room. Baron Suire, President of the Association, followed, accompanied by Berthaud, one of its principal officers, for the affairwas causing a great stir among the whole staff, and before anything wasdone a few words were exchanged in low voices between the gentlemen andthe two Fathers of the Assumption. Then the latter fell upon their knees, with arms extended, and began to pray, their faces illumined, transfigured by their burning desire to see God's omnipotence displayed. 

"Lord, hear us! Lord, grant our prayer!"

M. Sabathier had just been taken away, and the only patient now presentwas little Gustave, who had remained on a chair, half-undressed andforgotten. The curtains of the stretcher were raised, and the man'scorpse appeared, already stiff, and seemingly reduced and shrunken, withlarge eyes which had obstinately remained wide open. It was necessary, however, to undress the body, which was still fully clad, and thisterrible duty made the bearers momentarily hesitate. Pierre noticed thatthe Marquis de Salmon-Roquebert, who showed such devotion to the living, such freedom from all repugnance whenever they were in question, had nowdrawn aside and fallen on his knees, as though to avoid the necessity oftouching that lifeless corpse. And the young priest thereupon followedhis example, and knelt near him in order to keep countenance. 

Father Massias meanwhile was gradually becoming excited, praying in soloud a voice that it drowned that of his superior, Father Fourcade:"Lord, restore our brother to us!" he cried. "Lord, do it for Thy glory!"

One of the hospitallers had already begun to pull at the man's trousers, but his legs were so stiff that the garment would not come off. In factthe corpse ought to have been raised up; and the other hospitaller, whowas unbuttoning the dead man's old frock coat, remarked in an undertonethat it would be best to cut everything away with a pair of scissors. Otherwise there would be no end of the job. 

Berthaud, however, rushed up to them, after rapidly consulting BaronSuire. As a politician he secretly disapproved of Father Fourcade'saction in making such an attempt, only they could not now do otherwisethan carry matters to an issue; for the crowd was waiting and had beenentreating God on the dead man's behalf ever since the morning. Thewisest course, therefore, was to finish with the affair at once, showingas much respect as possible for the remains of the deceased. In lieu, therefore, of pulling the corpse about in order to strip it bare, Berthaud was of opinion that it would be better to dip it in the piscinaclad as it was. Should the man resuscitate, it would be easy to procurefresh clothes for him; and in the contrary event, no harm would have beendone. This is what he hastily said to the bearers; and forthwith hehelped them to pass some straps under the man's hips and arms. 

Father Fourcade had nodded his approval of this course, whilst FatherMassias prayed with increased fervour: "Breathe upon him, O Lord, and heshall be born anew! Restore his soul to him, O, Lord, that he may glorifyThee!"

Making an effort, the two hospitallers now raised the man by means of thestraps, carried him to the bath, and slowly lowered him into the water, at each moment fearing that he would slip away from their hold. Pierre, although overcome by horror, could not do otherwise than look at them, and thus he distinctly beheld the immersion of this corpse in its sorrygarments, which on being wetted clung to the bones, outlining theskeleton-like figure of the deceased, who floated like a man who has beendrowned. But the repulsive part of it all was, that in spite of the/rigor mortis/, the head fell backward into the water, and was submergedby it. In vain did the hospitallers try to raise it by pulling theshoulder straps; as they made the attempt, the man almost sank to thebottom of the bath. And how could he have recovered his breath when hismouth was full of water, his staring eyes seemingly dying afresh, beneaththat watery veil?

Then, during the three long minutes allowed for the immersion, the twoFathers of the Assumption and the chaplain, in a paroxysm of desire andfaith, strove to compel the intervention of Heaven, praying in such loudvoices that they seemed to choke. 

"Do Thou but look on him, O Lord, and he will live again! Lord! may herise at Thy voice to convert the earth! Lord! Thou hast but one word tosay and all Thy people will acclaim Thee!"

At last, as though some vessel had broken in his throat, Father Massiasfell groaning and choking on his elbows, with only enough strength lefthim to kiss the flagstones. And from without came the clamour of thecrowd, the ever-repeated cry, which the Capuchin was still leading:"Lord, heal our sick! Lord, heal our sick!" This appeal seemed sosingular at that moment, that Pierre's sufferings were increased. Hecould feel, too, that the Marquis was shuddering beside him. And so therelief was general when Berthaud, thoroughly annoyed with the wholebusiness, curtly shouted to the hospitallers: "Take him out! Take him outat once!"

The body was removed from the bath and laid on the stretcher, lookinglike the corpse of a drowned man with its sorry garments clinging to itslimbs. The water was trickling from the hair, and rivulets began fallingon either side, spreading out in pools on the floor. And naturally, deadas the man had been, dead he remained. 

The others had all risen and stood looking at him amidst a distressingsilence. Then, as he was covered up and carried away, Father Fourcadefollowed the bier leaning on the shoulder of Father Massias and dragginghis gouty leg, the painful weight of which he had momentarily forgotten. But he was already recovering his strong serenity, and as a hush fellupon the crowd outside, he could be heard saying: "My dear brothers, mydear sisters, God has not been willing to restore him to us, doubtlessbecause in His infinite goodness He has desired to retain him among Hiselect. "

And that was all; there was no further question of the dead man. Patientswere again being brought into the dressing-room, the two other baths werealready occupied. And now little Gustave, who had watched that terriblescene with his keen inquisitive eyes, evincing no sign of terror, finished undressing himself. His wretched body, the body of a scrofulouschild, appeared with its prominent ribs and projecting spine, its limbsso thin that they looked like mere walking-sticks. Especially was thisthe case as regards the left one, which was withered, wasted to the bone;and he also had two sores, one on the hip, and the other in the loins, the last a terrible one, the skin being eaten away so that you distinctlysaw the raw flesh. Yet he smiled, rendered so precocious by hissufferings that, although but fifteen years old and looking no more thanten, he seemed to be endowed with the reason and philosophy of a grownman. 

The Marquis de Salmon-Roquebert, who had taken him gently in his arms, refused Pierre's offer of service: "Thanks, but he weighs no more than abird. And don't be frightened, my dear little fellow. I will do itgently. "

"Oh, I am not afraid of cold water, monsieur, " replied the boy; "you mayduck me. "

Then he was lowered into the bath in which the dead man had been dipped. Madame Vigneron and Madame Chaise, who were not allowed to enter, hadremained at the door on their knees, whilst the father, M. Vigneron, whowas admitted into the dressing-room, went on making the sign of thecross. 

Finding that his services were no longer required, Pierre now departed. The sudden idea that three o'clock must have long since struck and thatMarie must be waiting for him made him hasten his steps. However, whilsthe was endeavouring to pierce the crowd, he saw the girl arrive in herlittle conveyance, dragged along by Gerard, who had not ceasedtransporting sufferers to the piscina. She had become impatient, suddenlyfilled with a conviction that she was at last in a frame of mind to findgrace. And at sight of Pierre she reproached him, saying, "What, myfriend, did you forget me?"

He could find no answer, but watched her as she was taken into thepiscina reserved for women, and then, in mortal sorrow, fell upon hisknees. It was there that he would wait for her, humbly kneeling, in orderthat he might take her back to the Grotto, cured without doubt andsinging a hymn of praise. Since she was certain of it, would she notassuredly be cured? However, it was in vain that he sought for words ofprayer in the depths of his distracted being. He was still under the blowof all the terrible things that he had beheld, worn out with physicalfatigue, his brain depressed, no longer knowing what he saw or what hebelieved. His desperate affection for Marie alone remained, making himlong to humble himself and supplicate, in the thought that when littleones really love and entreat the powerful they end by obtaining favours. And at last he caught himself repeating the prayers of the crowd, in adistressful voice that came from the depths of his being "Lord, heal oursick! Lord, heal our sick!"

Ten minutes, a quarter of an hour perhaps, went by. Then Marie reappearedin her little conveyance. Her face was very pale and wore an expressionof despair. Her beautiful hair was fastened above her head in a heavygolden coil which the water had not touched. And she was not cured. Thestupor of infinite discouragement hollowed and lengthened her face, andshe averted her eyes as though to avoid meeting those of the priest whothunderstruck, chilled to the heart, at last made up his mind to graspthe handle of the little vehicle, so as to take the girl back to theGrotto. 

And meantime the cry of the faithful, who with open arms were kneelingthere and kissing the earth, again rose with a growing fury, excited bythe Capuchin's shrill voice: "Lord, heal our sick! Heal our sick, OLord!"

As Pierre was placing Marie in position again in front of the Grotto, anattack of weakness came over her and she almost fainted. Gerard, who wasthere, saw Raymonde quickly hurry to the spot with a cup of broth, and atonce they began zealously rivalling each other in their attentions to theailing girl. Raymonde, holding out the cup in a pretty way, and assumingthe coaxing airs of an expert nurse, especially insisted that Marieshould accept the bouillon; and Gerard, glancing at this portionlessgirl, could not help finding her charming, already expert in the businessof life, and quite ready to manage a household with a firm hand withoutceasing to be amiable. Berthaud was no doubt right, this was the wifethat he, Gerard, needed. 

"Mademoiselle, " said he to Raymonde, "shall I raise the young lady alittle?"

"Thank you, monsieur, I am quite strong enough. And besides I will giveit to her in spoonfuls; that will be the better way. "

Marie, however, obstinately preserving her fierce silence as sherecovered consciousness, refused the broth with a gesture. She wished tobe left in quietness, she did not want anybody to question her. And itwas only when the others had gone off smiling at one another, that shesaid to Pierre in a husky voice: "Has not my father come then?"

After hesitating for a moment the priest was obliged to confess thetruth. "I left him sleeping and he cannot have woke up. "

Then Marie relapsed into her state of languid stupor and dismissed him inhis turn, with the gesture with which she declined all succour. She nolonger prayed, but remained quite motionless, gazing fixedly with herlarge eyes at the marble Virgin, the white statue amidst the radiance ofthe Grotto. And as four o'clock was now striking, Pierre with his heartsore went off to the Verification Office, having suddenly remembered theappointment given him by Doctor Chassaigne. 

IV

VERIFICATION

THE doctor was waiting for the young priest outside the VerificationOffice, in front of which a compact and feverish crowd of pilgrims wasassembled, waylaying and questioning the patients who went in, andacclaiming them as they came out whenever the news spread of any miracle, such as the restoration of some blind man's sight, some deaf woman'shearing, or some paralytic's power of motion. 

Pierre had no little difficulty in making his way through the throng, butat last he reached his friend. "Well, " he asked, "are we going to have amiracle--a real, incontestable one I mean?"

The doctor smiled, indulgent despite his new faith. "Ah, well, " said he, "a miracle is not worked to order. God intervenes when He pleases. "

Some hospitallers were mounting guard at the door, but they all knew M. Chassaigne, and respectfully drew aside to let him enter with hiscompanion. The office where the cures were verified was very badlyinstalled in a wretched wooden shanty divided into two apartments, firsta narrow ante-chamber, and then a general meeting room which was by nomeans so large as it should have been. However, there was a question ofproviding the department with better accommodation the following year;with which view some large premises, under one of the inclined ways ofthe Rosary, were already being fitted up. 

The only article of furniture in the antechamber was a wooden bench onwhich Pierre perceived two female patients awaiting their turn in thecharge of a young hospitaller. But on entering the meeting room thenumber of persons packed inside it quite surprised him, whilst thesuffocating heat within those wooden walls on which the sun was sofiercely playing, almost scorched his face. It was a square bare room, painted a light yellow, with the panes of its single window covered withwhitening, so that the pressing throng outside might see nothing of whatwent on within. One dared not even open this window to admit a littlefresh air, for it was no sooner set ajar than a crowd of inquisitiveheads peeped in. The furniture was of a very rudimentary kind, consistingsimply of two deal tables of unequal height placed end to end and noteven covered with a cloth; together with a kind of big "canterbury"littered with untidy papers, sets of documents, registers and pamphlets, and finally some thirty rush-seated chairs placed here and there over thefloor and a couple of ragged arm-chairs usually reserved for thepatients. 

Doctor Bonamy at once hastened forward to greet Doctor Chassaigne, whowas one of the latest and most glorious conquests of the Grotto. He founda chair for him and, bowing to Pierre's cassock, also made the youngpriest sit down. Then, in the tone of extreme politeness which wascustomary with him, he exclaimed: "/Mon cher confrere/, you will kindlyallow me to continue. We were just examining mademoiselle. "

He referred to a deaf peasant girl of twenty, who was seated in one ofthe arm-chairs. Instead of listening, however, Pierre, who was veryweary, still with a buzzing in his head, contented himself with gazing atthe scene, endeavouring to form some notion of the people assembled inthe room. There were some fifty altogether, many of them standing andleaning against the walls. Half a dozen, however, were seated at the twotables, a central position being occupied by the superintendent of thepiscinas, who was constantly consulting a thick register; whilst aroundhim were a Father of the Assumption and three young seminarists who actedas secretaries, writing, searching for documents, passing them andclassifying them again after each examination. Pierre, however, took mostinterest in a Father of the Immaculate Conception, Father Dargeles, whohad been pointed out to him that morning as being the editor of the"Journal de la Grotte. " This ecclesiastic, whose thin little face, withits blinking eyes, pointed nose, and delicate mouth was ever smiling, hadmodestly seated himself at the end of the lower table where heoccasionally took notes for his newspaper. He alone, of the community towhich he belonged, showed himself during the three days of the nationalpilgrimage. Behind him, however, one could divine the presence of all theothers, the slowly developed hidden power which organised everything andraked in all the proceeds. 

The onlookers consisted almost entirely of inquisitive people andwitnesses, including a score of doctors and a few priests. The medicalmen, who had come from all parts, mostly preserved silence, only a few ofthem occasionally venturing to ask a question; and every now and thenthey would exchange oblique glances, more occupied apparently in watchingone another than in verifying the facts submitted to their examination. Who could they be? Some names were mentioned, but they were quiteunknown. Only one had caused any stir, that of a celebrated doctor, professor at a Catholic university. 

That afternoon, however, Doctor Bonamy, who never sat down, busy as hewas conducting the proceedings and questioning the patients, reservedmost of his attentions for a short, fair-haired man, a writer of sometalent who contributed to one of the most widely read Paris newspapers, and who, in the course of a holiday tour, had by chance reached Lourdesthat morning. Was not this an unbeliever whom it might be possible toconvert, whose influence it would be desirable to gain foradvertisement's sake? Such at all events appeared to be M. Bonamy'sopinion, for he had compelled the journalist to take the secondarm-chair, and with an affectation of smiling good-nature was treatinghim to a full performance, again and again repeating that he and hispatrons had nothing to hide, and that everything took place in the mostopen manner. 

"We only desire light, " he exclaimed. "We never cease to call for theinvestigations of all willing men. "

Then, as the alleged cure of the deaf girl did not seem at all apromising case, he addressed her somewhat roughly: "Come, come, my girl, this is only a beginning. You must come back when there are more distinctsigns of improvement. " And turning to the journalist he added in anundertone: "If we were to believe them they would all be healed. But theonly cures we accept are those which are thoroughly proven, which are asapparent as the sun itself. Pray notice moreover that I say cures and notmiracles; for we doctors do not take upon ourselves to interpret andexplain. We are simply here to see if the patients, who submit themselvesto our examination, have really lost all symptoms of their ailments. "

Thereupon he struck an attitude. Doubtless he spoke like this in orderthat his rectitude might not be called in question. Believing withoutbelieving, he knew that science was yet so obscure, so full of surprises, that what seemed impossible might always come to pass; and thus, in thedeclining years of his life, he had contrived to secure an exceptionalposition at the Grotto, a position which had both its inconveniences andits advantages, but which, taken for all in all, was very comfortable andpleasant. 

And now, in reply to a question from the Paris journalist, he began toexplain his mode of proceeding. Each patient who accompanied thepilgrimage arrived provided with papers, amongst which there was almostalways a certificate of the doctor who had been attending the case. Attimes even there were certificates given by several doctors, hospitalbulletins and so forth--quite a record of the illness in its variousstages. And thus if a cure took place and the cured person came forward, it was only necessary to consult his or her set of documents in order toascertain the nature of the ailment, and then examination would show ifthat ailment had really disappeared. 

Pierre was now listening. Since he had been there, seated and restinghimself, he had grown calmer, and his mind was clear once more. It wasonly the heat which at present caused him any inconvenience. And thus, interested as he was by Doctor Bonamy's explanations, and desirous offorming an opinion, he would have spoken out and questioned, had it notbeen for his cloth which condemned him to remain in the background. Hewas delighted, therefore, when the little fair-haired gentleman, theinfluential writer, began to bring forward the objections which at onceoccurred to him. * Was it not most unfortunate that one doctor shoulddiagnose the illness and that another one should verify the cure? In thismode of proceeding there was certainly a source of frequent error. Thebetter plan would have been for a medical commission to examine all thepatients as soon as they arrived at Lourdes and draw up reports on everycase, to which reports the same commission would have referred wheneveran alleged cure was brought before it. Doctor Bonamy, however, did notfall in with this suggestion. He replied, with some reason, that acommission would never suffice for such gigantic labour. Just think ofit! A thousand patients to examine in a single morning! And how manydifferent theories there would be, how many contrary diagnoses, how manyendless discussions, all of a nature to increase the general uncertainty!The preliminary examination of the patients, which was almost alwaysimpossible, would, even if attempted, leave the door open for as manyerrors as the present system. In practice, it was necessary to remaincontent with the certificates delivered by the medical men who had beenin attendance on the patients, and these certificates accordinglyacquired capital, decisive importance. Doctor Bonamy ran through thedocuments lying on one of the tables and gave the Paris journalist someof these certificates to read. A great many of them unfortunately werevery brief. Others, more skilfully drawn up, clearly specified the natureof the complaint; and some of the doctors' signatures were even certifiedby the mayors of the localities where they resided. Nevertheless doubtsremained, innumerable and not to be surmounted. Who were these doctors?Who could tell if they possessed sufficient scientific authority to writeas they did? With all respect to the medical profession, were there notinnumerable doctors whose attainments were very limited? And, besides, might not these have been influenced by circumstances that one knewnothing of, in some cases by considerations of a personal character? Onewas tempted to ask for an inquiry respecting each of these medical men. Since everything was based on the documents supplied by the patients, these documents ought to have been most carefully controlled; for therecould be no proof of any miracle if the absolute certainty of the allegedailments had not been demonstrated by stringent examination. 

 * The reader will doubtless have understood that the Parisian journalist is none other than M. Zola himself--Trans. 

Very red and covered with perspiration, Doctor Bonamy waved his arms. "But that is the course we follow, that is the course we follow!" saidhe. "As soon as it seems to us that a case of cure cannot be explained bynatural means, we institute a minute inquiry, we request the person whohas been cured to return here for further examination. And as you cansee, we surround ourselves with all means of enlightenment. Thesegentlemen here, who are listening to us, are nearly every one of themdoctors who have come from all parts of France. We always entreat them toexpress their doubts if they feel any, to discuss the cases with us, anda very detailed report of each discussion is drawn up. You hear me, gentlemen; by all means protest if anything occurs here of a nature tooffend your sense of truth. "

Not one of the onlookers spoke. Most of the doctors present wereundoubtedly Catholics, and naturally enough they merely bowed. As for theothers, the unbelievers, the /savants/ pure and simple, they looked onand evinced some interest in certain phenomena, but considerations ofcourtesy deterred them from entering into discussions which they knewwould have been useless. When as men of sense their discomfort became toogreat, and they felt themselves growing angry, they simply left the room. 

As nobody breathed a word, Doctor Bonamy became quite triumphant, and onthe journalist asking him if he were all alone to accomplish so muchwork, he replied: "Yes, all alone; but my functions as doctor of theGrotto are not so complicated as you may think, for, I repeat it, theysimply consist in verifying cures whenever any take place. " However, hecorrected himself, and added with a smile: "All! I was forgetting, I amnot quite alone, I have Raboin, who helps me to keep things a little bitin order here. "

So saying, he pointed to a stout, grey-haired man of forty, with a heavyface and bull-dog jaw. Raboin was an ardent believer, one of thoseexcited beings who did not allow the miracles to be called in question. And thus he often suffered from his duties at the Verification Office, where he was ever ready to growl with anger when anybody disputed aprodigy. The appeal to the doctors had made him quite lose his temper, and his superior had to calm him. 

"Come, Raboin, my friend, be quiet!" said Doctor Bonamy. "All sincereopinions are entitled to a hearing. "

However, the /defile/ of patients was resumed. A man was now brought inwhose trunk was so covered with eczema that when he took off his shirt akind of grey flour fell from his skin. He was not cured, but simplydeclared that he came to Lourdes every year, and always went away feelingrelieved. Then came a lady, a countess, who was fearfully emaciated, andwhose story was an extraordinary one. Cured of tuberculosis by theBlessed Virgin, a first time, seven years previously, she hadsubsequently given birth to four children, and had then again fallen intoconsumption. At present she was a morphinomaniac, but her first bath hadalready relieved her so much, that she proposed taking part in thetorchlight procession that same evening with the twenty-seven members ofher family whom she had brought with her to Lourdes. Then there was awoman afflicted with nervous aphonia, who after months of absolutedumbness had just recovered her voice at the moment when the BlessedSacrament went by at the head of the four o'clock procession. 

"Gentlemen, " declared Doctor Bonamy, affecting the graciousness of a/savant/ of extremely liberal views, "as you are aware, we do not drawany conclusions when a nervous affection is in question. Still you willkindly observe that this woman was treated at the Salpetriere for sixmonths, and that she had to come here to find her tongue suddenlyloosened. "

Despite all these fine words he displayed some little impatience, for hewould have greatly liked to show the gentleman from Paris one of thoseremarkable instances of cure which occasionally presented themselvesduring the four o'clock procession--that being the moment of grace andexaltation when the Blessed Virgin interceded for those whom she hadchosen. But on this particular afternoon there had apparently been none. The cures which had so far passed before them were doubtful ones, deficient in interest. Meanwhile, out-of-doors, you could hear thestamping and roaring of the crowd, goaded into a frenzy by repeatedhymns, enfevered by its earnest desire for the Divine interposition, andgrowing more and more enervated by the delay. 

All at once, however, a smiling, modest-looking young girl, whose cleareyes sparkled with intelligence, entered the office. "Ah!" exclaimedDoctor Bonamy joyously, "here is our little friend Sophie. A remarkablecure, gentlemen, which took place at the same season last year, and theresults of which I will ask permission to show you. "

Pierre had immediately recognized Sophie Couteau, the /miraculee/ who hadgot into the train at Poitiers. And he now witnessed a repetition of thescene which had already been enacted in his presence. Doctor Bonamy begangiving detailed explanations to the little fair-haired gentleman, whodisplayed great attention. The case, said the doctor, had been one ofcaries of the bones of the left heel, with a commencement of necrosisnecessitating excision; and yet the frightful, suppurating sore had beenhealed in a minute at the first immersion in the piscina. 

"Tell the gentlemen how it happened, Sophie, " he added. 

The little girl made her usual pretty gesture as a sign to everybody tobe attentive. And then she began: "Well, it was like this; my foot waspast cure, I couldn't even go to church any more, and it had to be keptbandaged because there was always a lot of matter coming from it. Monsieur Rivoire, the doctor, who had made a cut in it so as to seeinside it, said that he should be obliged to take out a piece of thebone; and that, sure enough, would have made me lame for life. But when Igot to Lourdes, and had prayed a great deal to the Blessed Virgin, I wentto dip my foot in the water, wishing so much that I might be cured, thatI did not even take the time to pull the bandages off. And everythingremained in the water; there was no longer anything the matter with myfoot when I took it out. "

Doctor Bonamy listened, and punctuated each word with an approving nod. "And what did your doctor say, Sophie?" he asked. 

"When I got back to Vivonne, and Monsieur Rivoire saw my foot again, hesaid: 'Whether it be God or the Devil who has cured this child, it is allthe same to me; but in all truth, she is cured. '"

A burst of laughter rang out. The doctor's remark was sure to produce aneffect. 

"And what was it, Sophie, that you said to Madame la Comtesse, thesuperintendent of your ward?"

"Ah, yes! I hadn't brought many bandages for my foot with me, and I saidto her, 'It was very kind of the Blessed Virgin to cure me the first day, as I should have run out of linen on the morrow. '"

Then there was fresh laughter, a general display of satisfaction atseeing her look so pretty, telling her story, which she now knew byheart, in too recitative a manner, but, nevertheless, remaining verytouching and truthful in appearance. 

"Take off your shoe, Sophie, " now said Doctor Bonamy; "show your foot tothese gentlemen. Let them feel it. Nobody must retain any doubt. "

The little foot promptly appeared, very white, very clean, carefullytended indeed, with its scar just below the ankle, a long scar, whosewhity seam testified to the gravity of the complaint. Some of the medicalmen had drawn near, and looked on in silence. Others, whose opinions, nodoubt, were already formed, did not disturb themselves, though one ofthem, with an air of extreme politeness, inquired why the Blessed Virginhad not made a new foot while she was about it, for this would assuredlyhave given her no more trouble. Doctor Bonamy, however, quickly replied, that if the Blessed Virgin had left a scar, it was certainly in orderthat a trace, a proof of the miracle, might remain. Then he entered intotechnical particulars, demonstrating that a fragment of bone and fleshmust have been instantly formed, and this, of course, could not beexplained in any natural way. 

"/Mon Dieu/!" interrupted the little fair-haired gentleman, "there is noneed of any such complicated affair. Let me merely see a finger cut witha penknife, let me see it dipped in the water, and let it come out withthe cut cicatrised. The miracle will be quite as great, and I shall bowto it respectfully. " Then he added: "If I possessed a source which couldthus close up sores and wounds, I would turn the world topsy-turvy. I donot know exactly how I should manage it, but at all events I would summonthe nations, and the nations would come. I should cause the miracles tobe verified in such an indisputable manner, that I should be the masterof the earth. Just think what an extraordinary power it would be--adivine power. But it would be necessary that not a doubt should remain, the truth would have to be as patent, as apparent as the sun itself. Thewhole world would behold it and believe!"

Then he began discussing various methods of control with the doctor. Hehad admitted that, owing to the great number of patients, it would bedifficult, if not impossible, to examine them all on their arrival. Only, why didn't they organise a special ward at the hospital, a ward whichwould be reserved for cases of visible sores? They would have thirty suchcases all told, which might be subjected to the preliminary examinationof a committee. Authentic reports would be drawn up, and the sores mighteven be photographed. Then, if a case of cure should present itself, thecommission would merely have to authenticate it by a fresh report. And inall this there would be no question of any internal complaint, thediagnostication of which is difficult, and liable to be controverted. There would be visible evidence of the ailment, and cure could be proved. 

Somewhat embarrassed, Doctor Bonamy replied: "No doubt, no doubt; all weask for is enlightenment. The difficulty would be in forming thecommittee you speak of. If you only knew how little medical men agree!However, there is certainly an idea in what you say. "

Fortunately a fresh patient now came to his assistance. Whilst littleSophie Couteau, already forgotten, was putting on, her shoes again, EliseRouquet appeared, and, removing her wrap, displayed her diseased face toview. She related that she had been bathing it with her handkerchief eversince the morning, and it seemed to her that her sore, previously sofresh and raw, was already beginning to dry and grow paler in colour. This was true; Pierre noticed, with great surprise, that the aspect ofthe sore was now less horrible. This supplied fresh food for thediscussion on visible sores, for the little fair-haired gentleman clungobstinately to his idea of organising a special ward. Indeed, said he, ifthe condition of this girl had been verified that morning, and she shouldbe cured, what a triumph it would have been for the Grotto, which couldhave claimed to have healed a lupus! It would then have no longer beenpossible to deny that miracles were worked. 

Doctor Chassaigne had so far kept in the background, motionless andsilent, as though he desired that the facts alone should exercise theirinfluence on Pierre. But he now leant forward and said to him in anundertone: "Visible sores, visible sores indeed! That gentleman can haveno idea that our most learned medical men suspect many of these sores tobe of nervous origin. Yes, we are discovering that complaints of thiskind are often simply due to bad nutrition of the skin. These questionsof nutrition are still so imperfectly studied and understood! And somemedical men are also beginning to prove that the faith which heals caneven cure sores, certain forms of lupus among others. And so I would askwhat certainty that gentleman would obtain with his ward for visiblesores? There would simply be a little more confusion and passion inarguing the eternal question. No, no! Science is vain, it is a sea ofuncertainty. "

He smiled sorrowfully whilst Doctor Bonamy, after advising Elise Rouquetto continue using the water as lotion and to return each day for furtherexamination, repeated with his prudent, affable air: "At all events, gentlemen, there are signs of improvement in this case--that is beyonddoubt. "

But all at once the office was fairly turned topsy-turvy by the arrivalof La Grivotte, who swept in like a whirlwind, almost dancing withdelight and shouting in a full voice: "I am cured! I am cured!"

And forthwith she began to relate that they had first of all refused tobathe her, and that she had been obliged to insist and beg and sob inorder to prevail upon them to do so, after receiving Father Fourcade'sexpress permission. And then it had all happened as she had previouslysaid it would. She had not been immersed in the icy water for threeminutes--all perspiring as she was with her consumptive rattle--beforeshe had felt strength returning to her like a whipstroke lashing herwhole body. And now a flaming excitement possessed her; radiant, stampingher feet, she was unable to keep still. 

"I am cured, my good gentlemen, I am cured!"

Pierre looked at her, this time quite stupefied. Was this the same girlwhom, on the previous night, he had seen lying on the carriage seat, annihilated, coughing and spitting blood, with her face of ashen hue? Hecould not recognise her as she now stood there, erect and slender, hercheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling, upbuoyed by a determination to live, ajoy in living already. 

"Gentlemen, " declared Doctor Bonamy, "the case appears to me to be a veryinteresting one. We will see. "

Then he asked for the documents concerning La Grivotte. But they couldnot be found among all the papers heaped together on the tables. Theyoung seminarists who acted as secretaries began turning everything over;and the superintendent of the piscinas who sat in their midst himself hadto get up to see if these documents were in the "canterbury. " At last, when he had sat down again, he found them under the register which layopen before him. Among them were three medical certificates which he readaloud. All three of them agreed in stating that the case was one ofadvanced phthisis, complicated by nervous incidents which invested itwith a peculiar character. 

Doctor Bonamy wagged his head as though to say that such an /ensemble/ oftestimony could leave no room for doubt. Forthwith, he subjected thepatient to a prolonged auscultation. And he murmured: "I hear nothing--Ihear nothing. " Then, correcting himself, he added: "At least I hearscarcely anything. "

Finally he turned towards the five-and-twenty or thirty doctors who wereassembled there in silence. "Will some of you gentlemen, " he asked, "kindly lend me the help of your science? We are here to study anddiscuss these questions. "

At first nobody stirred. Then there was one who ventured to come forwardand, in his turn subject the patient to auscultation. But instead ofdeclaring himself, he continued reflecting, shaking his head anxiously. At last he stammered that in his opinion one must await furtherdevelopments. Another doctor, however, at once took his place, and thisone expressed a decided opinion. He could hear nothing at all, that womancould never have suffered from phthisis. Then others followed him; infact, with the exception of five or six whose smiling faces remainedimpenetrable, they all joined the /defile/. And the confusion nowattained its apogee; for each gave an opinion sensibly differing fromthat of his colleagues, so that a general uproar arose and one could nolonger hear oneself speak. Father Dargeles alone retained the calmness ofperfect serenity, for he had scented one of those cases which impassionpeople and redound to the glory of Our Lady of Lourdes. He was alreadytaking notes on a corner of the table. 

Thanks to all the noise of the discussion, Pierre and Doctor Chassaigne, seated at some distance from the others, were now able to talk togetherwithout being heard. "Oh! those piscinas!" said the young priest, "I havejust seen them. To think that the water should be so seldom changed! Whatfilth it is, what a soup of microbes! What a terrible blow for thepresent-day mania, that rage for antiseptic precautions! How is it thatsome pestilence does not carry off all these poor people? The opponentsof the microbe theory must be having a good laugh--"

M. Chassaigne stopped him. "No, no, my child, " said he. "The baths may bescarcely clean, but they offer no danger. Please notice that thetemperature of the water never rises above fifty degrees, and thatseventy-seven are necessary for the cultivation of germs. * Besides, scarcely any contagious diseases come to Lourdes, neither cholera, nortyphus, nor variola, nor measles, nor scarlatina. We only see certainorganic affections here, paralysis, scrofula, tumours, ulcers andabscesses, cancers and phthisis; and the latter cannot be transmitted bythe water of the baths. The old sores which are bathed have nothing tofear, and offer no risk of contagion. I can assure you that on this pointthere is even no necessity for the Blessed Virgin to intervene. "

 * The above are Fahrenheit degrees. --Trans. 

"Then, in that case, doctor, " rejoined Pierre, "when you were practising, you would have dipped all your patients in icy water--women at no matterwhat season, rheumatic patients, people suffering from diseases of theheart, consumptives, and so on? For instance, that unhappy girl, halfdead, and covered with sweat--would you have bathed her?"

"Certainly not! There are heroic methods of treatment to which, inpractice, one does not dare to have recourse. An icy bath may undoubtedlykill a consumptive; but do we know, whether, in certain circumstances, itmight not save her? I, who have ended by admitting that a supernaturalpower is at work here, I willingly admit that some cures must take placeunder natural conditions, thanks to that immersion in cold water whichseems to us idiotic and barbarous. Ah! the things we don't know, thethings we don't know!"

He was relapsing into his anger, his hatred of science, which he scornedsince it had left him scared and powerless beside the deathbed of hiswife and his daughter. "You ask for certainties, " he resumed, "butassuredly it is not medicine which will give you them. Listen for amoment to those gentlemen and you will be edified. Is it not beautiful, all that confusion in which so many opinions clash together? Certainlythere are ailments with which one is thoroughly acquainted, even to themost minute details of their evolution; there are remedies also, theeffects of which have been studied with the most scrupulous care; but thething that one does not know, that one cannot know, is the relation ofthe remedy to the ailment, for there are as many cases as there may bepatients, each liable to variation, so that experimentation begins afreshevery time. This is why the practice of medicine remains an art, forthere can be no experimental finality in it. Cure always depends onchance, on some fortunate circumstance, on some bright idea of thedoctor's. And so you will understand that all the people who come anddiscuss here make me laugh when they talk about the absolute laws ofscience. Where are those laws in medicine? I should like to have themshown to me. "

He did not wish to say any more, but his passion carried him away, so hewent on: "I told you that I had become a believer--nevertheless, to speakthe truth, I understand very well why this worthy Doctor Bonamy is solittle affected, and why he continues calling upon doctors in all partsof the world to come and study his miracles. The more doctors that mightcome, the less likelihood there would be of the truth being establishedin the inevitable battle between contradictory diagnoses and methods oftreatment. If men cannot agree about a visible sore, they surely cannotdo so about an internal lesion the existence of which will be admitted bysome, and denied by others. And why then should not everything become amiracle? For, after all, whether the action comes from nature or fromsome unknown power, medical men are, as a rule, none the less astonishedwhen an illness terminates in a manner which they have not foreseen. Nodoubt, too, things are very badly organised here. Those certificates fromdoctors whom nobody knows have no real value. All documents ought to bestringently inquired into. But even admitting any absolute scientificstrictness, you must be very simple, my dear child, if you imagine that apositive conviction would be arrived at, absolute for one and all. Erroris implanted in man, and there is no more difficult task than that ofdemonstrating to universal satisfaction the most insignificant truth. "

Pierre had now begun to understand what was taking place at Lourdes, theextraordinary spectacle which the world had been witnessing for years, amidst the reverent admiration of some and the insulting laughter ofothers. Forces as yet but imperfectly studied, of which one was evenignorant, were certainly at work--auto-suggestion, long prepareddisturbance of the nerves; inspiriting influence of the journey, theprayers, and the hymns; and especially the healing breath, the unknownforce which was evolved from the multitude, in the acute crisis of faith. Thus it seemed to him anything but intelligent to believe in trickery. The facts were both of a much more lofty and much more simple nature. There was no occasion for the Fathers of the Grotto to descend tofalsehood; it was sufficient that they should help in creating confusion, that they should utilise the universal ignorance. It might even beadmitted that everybody acted in good faith--the doctors void of geniuswho delivered the certificates, the consoled patients who believedthemselves cured, and the impassioned witnesses who swore that they hadbeheld what they described. And from all this was evolved the obviousimpossibility of proving whether there was a miracle or not. And suchbeing the case, did not the miracle naturally become a reality for thegreater number, for all those who suffered and who had need of hope?

Then, as Doctor Bonamy, who had noticed that they were chatting apart, came up to them, Pierre ventured to inquire: "What is about theproportion of the cures to the number of cases?"

"About ten per cent. , " answered the doctor; and reading in the youngpriest's eyes the words that he could not utter, he added in a verycordial way: "Oh! there would be many more, they would all be cured if wechose to listen to them. But it is as well to say it, I am only here tokeep an eye on the miracles, like a policeman as it were. My onlyfunctions are to check excessive zeal, and to prevent holy things frombeing made ridiculous. In one word, this office is simply an office wherea /visa/ is given when the cures have been verified and seem real ones. "

He was interrupted, however, by a low growl. Raboin was growing angry:"The cures verified, the cures verified, " he muttered. "What is the useof that? There is no pause in the working of the miracles. What is theuse of verifying them so far as believers are concerned? /They/ merelyhave to bow down and believe. And what is the use, too, as regards theunbelievers? /They/ will never be convinced. The work we do here is somuch foolishness. "

Doctor Bonamy severely ordered him to hold his tongue. "You are a rebel, Raboin, " said he; "I shall tell Father Capdebarthe that I won't have youhere any longer since you pass your time in sowing disobedience. "

Nevertheless, there was truth in what had just been said by this man, whoso promptly showed his teeth, eager to bite whenever his faith wasassailed; and Pierre looked at him with sympathy. All the work of theVerification Office--work anything but well performed--was indeeduseless, for it wounded the feelings of the pious, and failed to satisfythe incredulous. Besides, can a miracle be proved? No, you must believein it! When God is pleased to intervene, it is not for man to try tounderstand. In the ages of real belief, Science did not make anymeddlesome attempt to explain the nature of the Divinity. And why shouldit come and interfere here? By doing so, it simply hampered faith anddiminished its own prestige. No, no, there must be no Science, you mustthrow yourself upon the ground, kiss it, and believe. Or else you musttake yourself off. No compromise was possible. If examination once beganit must go on, and must, fatally, conduct to doubt. 

Pierre's greatest sufferings, however, came from the extraordinaryconversations which he heard around him. There were some believerspresent who spoke of the miracles with the most amazing ease andtranquillity. The most stupefying stories left their serenity entire. Another miracle, and yet another! And with smiles on their faces, theirreason never protesting, they went on relating such imaginings as couldonly have come from diseased brains. They were evidently living in such astate of visionary fever that nothing henceforth could astonish them. Andnot only did Pierre notice this among folks of simple, childish minds, illiterate, hallucinated creatures like Raboin, but also among the men ofintellect, the men with cultivated brains, the /savants/ like DoctorBonamy and others. It was incredible. And thus Pierre felt a growingdiscomfort arising within him, a covert anger which would doubtless endby bursting forth. His reason was struggling, like that of some poorwretch who after being flung into a river, feels the waters seize himfrom all sides and stifle him; and he reflected that the minds which, like Doctor Chassaigne's, sink at last into blind belief, must passthough this same discomfort and struggle before the final shipwreck. 

He glanced at his old friend and saw how sorrowful he looked, struck downby destiny, as weak as a crying child, and henceforth quite alone inlife. Nevertheless, he was unable to check the cry of protest which roseto his lips: "No, no, if we do not know everything, even if we shallnever know everything, there is no reason why we should leave offlearning. It is wrong that the Unknown should profit by man's debilityand ignorance. On the contrary, the eternal hope should be that thethings which now seem inexplicable will some day be explained; and wecannot, under healthy conditions, have any other ideal than this marchtowards the discovery of the Unknown, this victory slowly achieved byreason amidst all the miseries both of the flesh and of the mind. Ah!reason--it is my reason which makes me suffer, and it is from my reasontoo that I await all my strength. When reason dies, the whole beingperishes. And I feel but an ardent thirst to satisfy my reason more andmore, even though I may lose all happiness in doing so. "

Tears were appearing in Doctor Chassaigne's eyes; doubtless the memory ofhis dear dead ones had again flashed upon him. And, in his turn, hemurmured: "Reason, reason, yes, certainly it is a thing to be very proudof; it embodies the very dignity of life. But there is love, which islife's omnipotence, the one blessing to be won again when you have lostit. "

His voice sank in a stifled sob; and as in a mechanical way he began tofinger the sets of documents lying on the table, he espied among them onewhose cover bore the name of Marie de Guersaint in large letters. Heopened it and read the certificates of the two doctors who had inferredthat the case was one of paralysis of the marrow. "Come, my child, " hethen resumed, "I know that you feel warm affection for Mademoiselle deGuersaint. What should you say if she were cured here? There are heresome certificates, bearing honourable names, and you know that paralysisof this nature is virtually incurable. Well, if this young person shouldall at once run and jump about as I have seen so many others do, wouldyou not feel very happy, would you not at last acknowledge theintervention of a supernatural power?"

Pierre was about to reply, when he suddenly remembered his cousinBeauclair's expression of opinion, the prediction that the miracle wouldcome about like a lightning stroke, an awakening, an exaltation of thewhole being; and he felt his discomfort increase and contented himselfwith replying: "Yes, indeed, I should be very happy. And you are right;there is doubtless only a determination to secure happiness in all theagitation one beholds here. "

However, he could remain in that office no longer. The heat was becomingso great that perspiration streamed down the faces of those present. Doctor Bonamy had begun to dictate a report of the examination of LaGrivotte to one of the seminarists, while Father Dargeles, watchful withregard to the phraseology employed, occasionally rose and whispered someverbal alteration in the writer's ear. Meantime, the tumult around themwas continuing; the discussion among the medical men had taken anotherturn and now bore on certain technical points of no significance withregard to the case in question. You could no longer breathe within thosewooden walls, nausea was upsetting every heart and every head. The littlefair-haired gentleman, the influential writer from Paris, had alreadygone away, quite vexed at not having seen a real miracle. 

Pierre thereupon said to Doctor Chassaigne, "Let us go; I shall be takenill if I stay here any longer. "

They left the office at the same time as La Grivotte, who was at lastbeing dismissed. And as soon as they reached the door they foundthemselves caught in a torrential, surging, jostling crowd, which waseager to behold the girl so miraculously healed; for the report of themiracle must have already spread, and one and all were struggling to seethe chosen one, question her, and touch her. And she, with her empurpledcheeks, her flaming eyes, her dancing gait, could do nothing but repeat, "I am cured, I am cured!"

Shouts drowned her voice, she herself was submerged, carried off amidstthe eddies of the throng. For a moment one lost sight of her as thoughshe had sunk in those tumultuous waters; then she suddenly reappearedclose to Pierre and the doctor, who endeavoured to extricate her from thecrush. They had just perceived the Commander, one of whose manias was tocome down to the piscinas and the Grotto in order to vent his angerthere. With his frock-coat tightly girding him in military fashion, hewas, as usual, leaning on his silver-knobbed walking-stick, slightlydragging his left leg, which his second attack of paralysis hadstiffened. And his face reddened and his eyes flashed with anger when LaGrivotte, pushing him aside in order that she might pass, repeated amidstthe wild enthusiasm of the crowd, "I am cured, I am cured!"

"Well!" he cried, seized with sudden fury, "so much the worse for you, mygirl!"

Exclamations arose, folks began to laugh, for he was well known, and hismaniacal passion for death was forgiven him. However, when he beganstammering confused words, saying that it was pitiful to desire life whenone was possessed of neither beauty nor fortune, and that this girl oughtto have preferred to die at once rather than suffer again, people beganto growl around him, and Abbe Judaine, who was passing, had to extricatehim from his trouble. The priest drew him away. "Be quiet, my friend, bequiet, " he said. "It is scandalous. Why do you rebel like this againstthe goodness of God who occasionally shows His compassion for oursufferings by alleviating them? I tell you again that you yourself oughtto fall on your knees and beg Him to restore to you the use of your legand let you live another ten years. "

The Commander almost choked with anger. "What!" he replied, "ask to livefor another ten years, when my finest day will be the day I die! Showmyself as spiritless, as cowardly as the thousands of patients whom I seepass along here, full of a base terror of death, shrieking aloud theirweakness, their passion to remain alive! Ah! no, I should feel too muchcontempt for myself. I want to die!--to die at once! It will be sodelightful to be no more. "

He was at last out of the scramble of the pilgrims, and again foundhimself near Doctor Chassaigne and Pierre on the bank of the Gave. And headdressed himself to the doctor, whom he often met: "Didn't they try torestore a dead man to life just now?" he asked; "I was told of it--italmost suffocated me. Eh, doctor? You understand? That man was happyenough to be dead, and they dared to dip him in their water in thecriminal hope to make him alive again! But suppose they had succeeded, suppose their water had animated that poor devil once more--for one neverknows what may happen in this funny world--don't you think that the manwould have had a perfect right to spit his anger in the face of thosecorpse-menders? Had he asked them to awaken him? How did they know if hewere not well pleased at being dead? Folks ought to be consulted at anyrate. Just picture them playing the same vile trick on me when I at lastfall into the great deep sleep. Ah! I would give them a nice reception. 'Meddle with what concerns you, ' I should say, and you may be sure Ishould make all haste to die again!"

He looked so singular in the fit of rage which had come over him thatAbbe Judaine and the doctor could not help smiling. Pierre, however, remained grave, chilled by the great quiver which swept by. Were notthose words he had just heard the despairing imprecations of Lazarus? Hehad often imagined Lazarus emerging from the tomb and crying aloud: "Whyhast Thou again awakened me to this abominable life, O Lord? I wassleeping the eternal, dreamless sleep so deeply; I was at last enjoyingsuch sweet repose amidst the delights of nihility! I had known everywretchedness and every dolour, treachery, vain hope, defeat, sickness; asone of the living I had paid my frightful debt to suffering, for I wasborn without knowing why, and I lived without knowing how; and now, behold, O Lord, Thou requirest me to pay my debt yet again; Thoucondemnest me to serve my term of punishment afresh! Have I then beenguilty of some inexpiable transgression that thou shouldst inflict suchcruel chastisement upon me? Alas! to live again, to feel oneself die alittle in one's flesh each day, to have no intelligence save such as isrequired in order to doubt; no will, save such as one must have to beunable; no tenderness, save such as is needed to weep over one's ownsorrows. Yet it was passed, I had crossed the terrifying threshold ofdeath, I had known that second which is so horrible that it sufficeth topoison the whole of life. I had felt the sweat of agony cover me withmoisture, the blood flow back from my limbs, my breath forsake me, fleeaway in a last gasp. And Thou ordainest that I should know this distressa second time, that I should die twice, that my human misery shouldexceed that of all mankind. Then may it be even now, O Lord! Yes, Ientreat Thee, do also this great miracle; may I once more lay myself downin this grave, and again fall asleep without suffering from theinterruption of my eternal slumber. Have mercy upon me, and forbear frominflicting on me the torture of living yet again; that torture which isso frightful that Thou hast never inflicted it on any being. I havealways loved Thee and served Thee; and I beseech Thee do not make of methe greatest example of Thy wrath, a cause of terror unto allgenerations. But show unto me Thy gentleness and loving kindness, O Lord!restore unto me the slumber I have earned, and let me sleep once moreamid the delights of Thy nihility. "

While Pierre was pondering in this wise, Abbe Judaine had led theCommander away, at last managing to calm him; and now the young priestshook hands with Doctor Chassaigne, recollecting that it was past fiveo'clock, and that Marie must be waiting for him. On his way back to theGrotto, however, he encountered the Abbe des Hermoises deep inconversation with M. De Guersaint, who had only just left his room at thehotel, and was quite enlivened by his good nap. He and his companion wereadmiring the extraordinary beauty which the fervour of faith imparted tosome women's countenances, and they also spoke of their projected trip tothe Cirque de Gavarnie. 

On learning, however, that Marie had taken a first bath with no effect, M. De Guersaint at once followed Pierre. They found the poor girl stillin the same painful stupor, with her eyes still fixed on the BlessedVirgin who had not deigned to hear her. She did not answer the lovingwords which her father addressed to her, but simply glanced at him withher large distressful eyes, and then again turned them upon the marblestatue which looked so white amid the radiance of the tapers. And whilstPierre stood waiting to take her back to the hospital, M. De Guersaintdevoutly fell upon his knees. At first he prayed with passionate ardourfor his daughter's cure, and then he solicited, on his own behalf, thefavour of finding some wealthy person who would provide him with themillion francs that he needed for his studies on aerial navigation. 

V

BERNADETTE'S TRIALS

ABOUT eleven o'clock that night, leaving M. De Guersaint in his room atthe Hotel of the Apparitions, it occurred to Pierre to return for amoment to the Hospital of Our Lady of Dolours before going to bedhimself. He had left Marie in such a despairing state, so fiercelysilent, that he was full of anxiety about her. And when he had asked forMadame de Jonquiere at the door of the Sainte-Honorine Ward he became yetmore anxious, for the news was by no means good. The young girl, said thesuperintendent, had not even opened her mouth. She would answer nobody, and had even refused to eat. Madame de Jonquiere, insisted therefore thatPierre should come in. True, the presence of men was forbidden in thewomen's wards at night-time, but then a priest is not a man. 

"She only cares for you and will only listen to you, " said the worthylady. "Pray come in and sit down near her till Abbe Judaine arrives. Hewill come at about one in the morning to administer the communion to ourmore afflicted sufferers, those who cannot move and who have to eat atdaybreak. You will be able to assist him. "

Pierre thereupon followed Madame de Jonquiere, who installed him at thehead of Marie's bed. "My dear child, " she said to the girl, "I havebrought you somebody who is very fond of you. You will be able to chatwith him, and you will be reasonable now, won't you?"

Marie, however, on recognising Pierre, gazed at him with an air ofexasperated suffering, a black, stern expression of revolt. 

"Would you like him to read something to you, " resumed Madame deJonquiere, "something that would ease and console you as he did in thetrain? No? It wouldn't interest you, you don't care for it? Well, we willsee by-and-by. I will leave him with you, and I am sure you will be quitereasonable again in a few minutes. "

Pierre then began speaking to her in a low voice, saying all the kindconsoling things that his heart could think of, and entreating her not toallow herself to sink into such despair. If the Blessed Virgin had notcured her on the first day, it was because she reserved her for someconspicuous miracle. But he spoke in vain. Marie had turned her headaway, and did not even seem to listen as she lay there with a bitterexpression on her mouth and a gleam of irritation in her eyes, whichwandered away into space. Accordingly he ceased speaking and began togaze at the ward around him. 

The spectacle was a frightful one. Never before had such a nausea of pityand terror affected his heart. They had long since dined, neverthelessplates of food which had been brought up from the kitchens still layabout the beds; and all through the night there were some who ate whilstothers continued restlessly moaning, asking to be turned over or helpedout of bed. As the hours went by a kind of vague delirium seemed to comeupon almost all of them. Very few were able to sleep quietly. Some hadbeen undressed and were lying between the sheets, but the greater numberwere simply stretched out on the beds, it being so difficult to get theirclothes off that they did not even change their linen during the fivedays of the pilgrimage. In the semi-obscurity, moreover, the obstructionof the ward seemed to have increased. To the fifteen beds ranged alongthe walls and the seven mattresses filling the central space, some freshpallets had been added, and on all sides there was a confused litter ofragged garments, old baskets, boxes, and valises. Indeed, you no longerknew where to step. Two smoky lanterns shed but a dim light upon thisencampment of dying women, in which a sickly smell prevailed; for, instead of any freshness, merely the heavy heat of the August night camein through the two windows which had been left ajar. Nightmare-likeshadows and cries sped to and fro, peopling the inferno, amidst thenocturnal agony of so much accumulated suffering. 

However, Pierre recognised Raymonde, who, her duties over, had come tokiss her mother, before going to sleep in one of the garrets reserved tothe Sisters of the hospital. For her own part, Madame de Jonquiere, taking her functions to heart, did not close her eyes during the threenights spent at Lourdes. 

She certainly had an arm-chair in which to rest herself, but she neversat down in it for a moment with out being disturbed. It must be admittedthat she was bravely seconded by little Madame Desagneaux, who displayedsuch enthusiastic zeal that Sister Hyacinthe asked her, with a smile:"Why don't you take the vows?" whereupon she responded, with an air ofscared surprise: "Oh! I can't, I'm married, you know, and I'm very fondof my husband. " As for Madame Volmar, she had not even shown herself; butit was alleged that Madame de Jonquiere had sent her to bed on hearingher complain of a frightful headache. And this had put Madame Desagneauxin quite a temper; for, as she sensibly enough remarked, a person had nobusiness to offer to nurse the sick when the slightest exertion exhaustedher. She herself, however, at last began to feel her legs and armsaching, though she would not admit it, but hastened to every patient whomshe heard calling, ever ready as she was to lend a helping hand. In Parisshe would have rung for a servant rather than have moved a candlestickherself; but here she was ever coming and going, bringing and emptyingbasins, and passing her arms around patients to hold them up, whilstMadame de Jonquiere slipped pillows behind them. However, shortly aftereleven o'clock, she was all at once overpowered. Having imprudentlystretched herself in the armchair for a moment's rest, she there fellsoundly asleep, her pretty head sinking on one of her shoulders amidsther lovely, wavy fair hair, which was all in disorder. And from thatmoment neither moan nor call, indeed no sound whatever, could waken her. 

Madame de Jonquiere, however, had softly approached the young priestagain. "I had an idea, " said she in a low voice, "of sending for MonsieurFerrand, the house-surgeon, you know, who accompanies us. He would havegiven the poor girl something to calm her. Only he is busy downstairstrying to relieve Brother Isidore, in the Family Ward. Besides, as youknow, we are not supposed to give medical attendance here; our workconsists in placing our dear sick ones in the hands of the BlessedVirgin. "

Sister Hyacinthe, who had made up her mind to spend the night with thesuperintendent, now drew, near. "I have just come from the Family Ward, "she said; "I went to take Monsieur Sabathier some oranges which I hadpromised him, and I saw Monsieur Ferrand, who had just succeeded inreviving Brother Isidore. Would you like me to go down and fetch him?"

But Pierre declined the offer. "No, no, " he replied, "Marie will besensible. I will read her a few consoling pages by-and-by, and then shewill rest. "

For the moment, however, the girl still remained obstinately silent. Oneof the two lanterns was hanging from the wall close by, and Pierre coulddistinctly see her thin face, rigid and motionless like stone. Then, farther away, in the adjoining bed, he perceived Elise Rouquet, who wassound asleep and no longer wore her fichu, but openly displayed her face, the ulcerations of which still continued to grow paler. And on the youngpriest's left hand was Madame Vetu, now greatly weakened, in a hopelessstate, unable to doze off for a moment, shaken as she was by a continuousrattle. He said a few kind words to her, for which she thanked him with anod; and, gathering her remaining strength together, she was at last ableto say: "There were several cures to-day; I was very pleased to hear ofthem. "

On a mattress at the foot of her bed was La Grivotte, who in a fever ofextraordinary activity kept on sitting up to repeat her favourite phrase:"I am cured, I am cured!" And she went on to relate that she had eatenhalf a fowl for dinner, she who had been unable to eat for long monthspast. Then, too, she had followed the torchlight procession on footduring nearly a couple of hours, and she would certainly have danced tilldaybreak had the Blessed Virgin only been pleased to give a ball. Andonce more she repeated: "I am cured, yes, cured, quite cured!"

Thereupon Madame Vetu found enough strength to say with childlikeserenity and perfect, gladsome abnegation: "The Blessed Virgin did wellto cure her since she is poor. I am better pleased than if it had beenmyself, for I have my little shop to depend upon and can wait. We eachhave our turn, each our turn. "

One and all displayed a like charity, a like pleasure that others shouldhave been cured. Seldom, indeed, was any jealousy shown; they surrenderedthemselves to a kind of epidemical beatitude, to a contagious hope thatthey would all be cured whenever it should so please the Blessed Virgin. And it was necessary that she should not be offended by any undueimpatience; for assuredly she had her reasons and knew right well why shebegan by healing some rather than others. Thus with the fraternity bornof common suffering and hope, the most grievously afflicted patientsprayed for the cure of their neighbours. None of them ever despaired, each fresh miracle was the promise of another one, of the one which wouldbe worked on themselves. Their faith remained unshakable. A story wastold of a paralytic woman, some farm servant, who with extraordinarystrength of will had contrived to take a few steps at the Grotto, and whowhile being conveyed back to the hospital had asked to be set down thatshe might return to the Grotto on foot. But she had gone only half thedistance when she had staggered, panting and livid; and on being broughtto the hospital on a stretcher, she had died there, cured, however, saidher neighbours in the ward. Each, indeed, had her turn; the BlessedVirgin forgot none of her dear daughters unless it were her design togrant some chosen one immediate admission into Paradise. 

All at once, at the moment when Pierre was leaning towards her, againoffering to read to her, Marie burst into furious sobs. Letting her headfall upon her friend's shoulder, she vented all her rebellion in a low, terrible voice, amidst the vague shadows of that awful room. She hadexperienced what seldom happened to her, a collapse of faith, a suddenloss of courage, all the rage of the suffering being who can no longerwait. Such was her despair, indeed, that she even became sacrilegious. 

"No, no, " she stammered, "the Virgin is cruel; she is unjust, for she didnot cure me just now. Yet I felt so certain that she would grant myprayer, I had prayed to her so fervently. I shall never be cured, nowthat the first day is past. It was a Saturday, and I was convinced that Ishould be cured on a Saturday. I did not want to speak--and oh! preventme, for my heart is too full, and I might say more than I ought to do. "

With fraternal hands he had quickly taken hold of her head, and he wasendeavouring to stifle the cry of her rebellion. "Be quiet, Marie, Ientreat you! It would never do for anyone to hear you--you so pious! Doyou want to scandalise every soul?"

But in spite of her efforts she was unable to keep silence. "I shouldstifle, I must speak out, " she said. "I no longer love her, no longerbelieve in her. The tales which are related here are all falsehoods;there is /nothing/, she does not even exist, since she does not hear whenone speaks to her, and sobs. If you only knew all that I said to her! Oh!I want to go away at once. Take me away, carry me away in your arms, sothat I may go and die in the street, where the passers-by, at least, willtake pity on my sufferings!"

She was growing weak again, and had once more fallen on her back, stammering, talking childishly. "Besides, nobody loves me, " she said. "Myfather was not even there. And you, my friend, forsook me. When I sawthat it was another who was taking me to the piscinas, I began to feel achill. Yes, that chill of doubt which I often felt in Paris. And that isat least certain, I doubted--perhaps, indeed, that is why she did notcure me. I cannot have prayed well enough, I am not pious enough, nodoubt. "

She was no longer blaspheming, but seeking for excuses to explain thenon-intervention of Heaven. However, her face retained an angryexpression amidst this struggle which she was waging with the SupremePower, that Power which she had loved so well and entreated so fervently, but which had not obeyed her. When, on rare occasions, a fit of rage ofthis description broke out in the ward, and the sufferers, lying on theirbeds, rebelled against their fate, sobbing and lamenting, and at timeseven swearing, the lady-hospitallers and the Sisters, somewhat shocked, would content themselves with simply closing the bed-curtains. Grace haddeparted, one must await its return. And at last, sometimes after longhours, the rebellious complaints would die away, and peace would reignagain amidst the deep, woeful silence. 

"Calm yourself, calm yourself, I implore you, " Pierre gently repeated toMarie, seeing that a fresh attack was coming upon her, an attack of doubtin herself, of fear that she was unworthy of the divine assistance. 

Sister Hyacinthe, moreover, had again drawn near. "You will not be ableto take the sacrament by-and-by, my dear child, " said she, "if youcontinue in such a state. Come, since we have given Monsieur l'Abbepermission to read to you, why don't you let him do so?"

Marie made a feeble gesture as though to say that she consented, andPierre at once took out of the valise at the foot of her bed, the littleblue-covered book in which the story of Bernadette was so naivelyrelated. As on the previous night, however, when the train was rollingon, he did not confine himself to the bald phraseology of the book, butbegan improvising, relating all manner of details in his own fashion, inorder to charm the simple folks who listened to him. Nevertheless, withhis reasoning, analytical proclivities, he could not prevent himself fromsecretly re-establishing the real facts, imparting, for himself alone, ahuman character to this legend, whose wealth of prodigies contributed sogreatly to the cure of those that suffered. Women were soon sitting up onall the surrounding beds. They wished to hear the continuation of thestory, for the thought of the sacrament which they were passionatelyawaiting had prevented almost all of them from getting to sleep. Andseated there, in the pale light of the lantern hanging from the wallabove him, Pierre little by little raised his voice, so that he might beheard by the whole ward. 

"The persecutions began with the very first miracles. Called a liar and alunatic, Bernadette was threatened with imprisonment. Abbe Peyramale, theparish priest of Lourdes, and Monseigneur Laurence, Bishop of Tarbes, like the rest of the clergy, refrained from all intervention, waiting thecourse of events with the greatest prudence; whilst the civilauthorities, the Prefect, the Public Prosecutor, the Mayor, and theCommissary of Police, indulged in excessive anti-religious zeal. "

Continuing his perusal in this fashion, Pierre saw the real story rise upbefore him with invincible force. His mind travelled a short distancebackward and he beheld Bernadette at the time of the first apparitions, so candid, so charming in her ignorance and good faith, amidst all hersufferings. And she was truly the visionary, the saint, her face assumingan expression of superhuman beauty during her crises of ecstasy. Her browbeamed, her features seemed to ascend, her eyes were bathed with light, whilst her parted lips burnt with divine love. And then her whole personbecame majestic; it was in a slow, stately way that she made the sign ofthe cross, with gestures which seemed to embrace the whole horizon. Theneighbouring valleys, the villages, the towns, spoke of Bernadette alone. Although the Lady had not yet told her name, she was recognised, andpeople said, "It is she, the Blessed Virgin. " On the first market-day, somany people flocked into Lourdes that the town quite overflowed. Allwished to see the blessed child whom the Queen of the Angels had chosen, and who became so beautiful when the heavens opened to her enrapturedgaze. The crowd on the banks of the Gave grew larger each morning, andthousands of people ended by installing themselves there, jostling oneanother that they might lose nothing of the spectacle! As soon asBernadette appeared, a murmur of fervour spread: "Here is the saint, thesaint, the saint!" Folks rushed forward to kiss her garments. She was aMessiah, the eternal Messiah whom the nations await, and the need of whomis ever arising from generation to generation. And, moreover, it was everthe same adventure beginning afresh: an apparition of the Virgin to ashepherdess; a voice exhorting the world to penitence; a spring gushingforth; and miracles astonishing and enrapturing the crowds that hastenedto the spot in larger and larger numbers. 

Ah! those first miracles of Lourdes, what a spring-tide flowering ofconsolation and hope they brought to the hearts of the wretched, uponwhom poverty and sickness were preying! Old Bourriette's restoredeyesight, little Bouhohort's resuscitation in the icy water, the deafrecovering their hearing, the lame suddenly enabled to walk, and so manyother cases, Blaise Maumus, Bernade Soubies, * Auguste Bordes, BlaisetteSoupenne, Benoite Cazeaux, in turn cured of the most dreadful ailments, became the subject of endless conversations, and fanned the illusions ofall those who suffered either in their hearts or their flesh. OnThursday, March 4th, the last day of the fifteen visits solicited by theVirgin, there were more than twenty thousand persons assembled before theGrotto. Everybody, indeed, had come down from the mountains. And thisimmense throng found at the Grotto the divine food that it hungered for, a feast of the Marvellous, a sufficient meed of the Impossible to contentits belief in a superior Power, which deigned to bestow some attentionupon poor folks, and to intervene in the wretched affairs of this lowerworld, in order to re-establish some measure of justice and kindness. Itwas indeed the cry of heavenly charity bursting forth, the invisiblehelping hand stretched out at last to dress the eternal sores ofhumanity. Ah! that dream in which each successive generation soughtrefuge, with what indestructible energy did it not arise among thedisinherited ones of this world as soon as it found a favourable spot, prepared by circumstances! And for centuries, perhaps, circumstances hadnever so combined to kindle the mystical fire of faith as they did atLourdes. 

 * I give this name as written by M. Zola; but in other works on Lourdes I find it given as "Bernarde Loubie--a bed-ridden old woman, cured of a paralytic affection by drinking the water of the Grotto. "--Trans. 

A new religion was about to be founded, and persecutions at once began, for religions only spring up amidst vexations and rebellions. And even asit was long ago at Jerusalem, when the tidings of miracles spread, thecivil authorities--the Public Prosecutor, the Justice of the Peace, theMayor, and particularly the Prefect of Tarbes--were all roused and beganto bestir themselves. The Prefect was a sincere Catholic, a worshipper, aman of perfect honour, but he also had the firm mind of a publicfunctionary, was a passionate defender of order, and a declared adversaryof fanaticism which gives birth to disorder and religious perversion. Under his orders at Lourdes there was a Commissary of Police, a man ofgreat intelligence and shrewdness, who had hitherto discharged hisfunctions in a very proper way, and who, legitimately enough, beheld inthis affair of the apparitions an opportunity to put his gift ofsagacious skill to the proof. So the struggle began, and it was thisCommissary who, on the first Sunday in Lent, at the time of the firstapparitions, summoned Bernadette to his office in order that he mightquestion her. He showed himself affectionate, then angry, thenthreatening, but all in vain; the answers which the girl gave him wereever the same. The story which she related, with its slowly accumulateddetails, had little by little irrevocably implanted itself in herinfantile mind. And it was no lie on the part of this poor sufferingcreature, this exceptional victim of hysteria, but an unconscioushaunting, a radical lack of will-power to free herself from her originalhallucination. She knew not how to exert any such will, she could not, she would not exert it. Ah! the poor child, the dear child, so amiableand so gentle, so incapable of any evil thought, from that time forwardlost to life, crucified by her fixed idea, whence one could only haveextricated her by changing her environment, by restoring her to the openair, in some land of daylight and human affection. But she was the chosenone, she had beheld the Virgin, she would suffer from it her whole lifelong and die from it at last!

Pierre, who knew Bernadette so well, and who felt a fraternal pity forher memory, the fervent compassion with which one regards a human saint, a simple, upright, charming creature tortured by her faith, allowed hisemotion to appear in his moist eyes and trembling voice. And a pause inhis narrative ensued. Marie, who had hitherto been lying there quitestiff, with a hard expression of revolt still upon her face, opened herclenched hands and made a vague gesture of pity. "Ah, " she murmured, "thepoor child, all alone to contend against those magistrates, and soinnocent, so proud, so unshakable in her championship of the truth!"

The same compassionate sympathy was arising from all the beds in theward. That hospital inferno with its nocturnal wretchedness, itspestilential atmosphere, its pallets of anguish heaped together, itsweary lady-hospitallers and Sisters flitting phantom-like hither andthither, now seemed to be illumined by a ray of divine charity. Was notthe eternal illusion of happiness rising once more amidst tears andunconscious falsehoods? Poor, poor Bernadette! All waxed indignant at thethought of the persecutions which she had endured in defence of herfaith. 

Then Pierre, resuming his story, related all that the child had had tosuffer. After being questioned by the Commissary she had to appear beforethe judges of the local tribunal. The entire magistracy pursued her, andendeavoured to wring a retractation from her. But the obstinacy of herdream was stronger than the common sense of all the civil authorities puttogether. Two doctors who were sent by the Prefect to make a carefulexamination of the girl came, as all doctors would have done, to thehonest opinion that it was a case of nervous trouble, of which the asthmawas a sure sign, and which, in certain circumstances, might have inducedvisions. This nearly led to her removal and confinement in a hospital atTarbes. But public exasperation was feared. A bishop had fallen on hisknees before her. Some ladies had sought to buy favours from her forgold. Moreover she had found a refuge with the Sisters of Nevers, whotended the aged in the town asylum, and there she made her firstcommunion, and was with difficulty taught to read and write. As theBlessed Virgin seemed to have chosen her solely to work the happiness ofothers, and she herself had not been cured, it was very sensibly decidedto take her to the baths of Cauterets, which were so near at hand. However, they did her no good. And no sooner had she returned to Lourdesthan the torture of being questioned and adored by a whole people beganafresh, became aggravated, and filled her more and more with horror ofthe world. Her life was over already; she would be a playful child nomore; she could never be a young girl dreaming of a husband, a young wifekissing the cheeks of sturdy children. She had beheld the Virgin, she wasthe chosen one, the martyr. If the Virgin, said believers, had confidedthree secrets to her, investing her with a triple armour as it were, itwas simply in order to sustain her in her appointed course. 

The clergy had for a long time remained aloof, on its own side full ofdoubt and anxiety. Abby Peyramale, the parish priest of Lourdes, was aman of somewhat blunt ways, but full of infinite kindness, rectitude, andenergy whenever he found himself in what he thought the right path. Onthe first occasion when Bernadette visited him, he received this childwho had been brought up at Bartres and had not yet been seen atCatechism, almost as sternly as the Commissary of Police had done; infact, he refused to believe her story, and with some irony told her toentreat the Lady to begin by making the briars blossom beneath her feet, which, by the way, the Lady never did. And if the Abbe ended by takingthe child under his protection like a good pastor who defends his flock, it was simply through the advent of persecution and the talk ofimprisoning this puny child, whose clear eyes shone so frankly, and whoclung with such modest, gentle stubbornness to her original tale. Besides, why should he have continued denying the miracle after merelydoubting it like a prudent priest who had no desire to see religion mixedup in any suspicious affair? Holy Writ is full of prodigies, all dogma isbased on the mysterious; and that being so, there was nothing to preventhim, a priest, from believing that the Virgin had really entrustedBernadette with a pious message for him, an injunction to build a churchwhither the faithful would repair in procession. Thus it was that hebegan loving and defending Bernadette for her charm's sake, whilst stillrefraining from active interference, awaiting as he did the decision ofhis Bishop. 

This Bishop, Monseigneur Laurence, seemed to have shut himself up in hisepiscopal residence at Tarbes, locking himself within it and preservingabsolute silence as though there were nothing occurring at Lourdes of anature to interest him. He had given strict instructions to his clergy, and so far not a priest had appeared among the vast crowds of people whospent their days before the Grotto. He waited, and even allowed thePrefect to state in his administrative circulars that the civil and thereligious authorities were acting in concert. In reality, he cannot havebelieved in the apparitions of the Grotto of Massabielle, which hedoubtless considered to be the mere hallucinations of a sick child. Thisaffair, which was revolutionising the region, was of sufficientimportance for him to have studied it day by day, and the manner in whichhe disregarded it for so long a time shows how little inclined he was toadmit the truth of the alleged miracles, and how greatly he desired toavoid compromising the Church in a matter which seemed destined to endbadly. With all his piety, Monseigneur Laurence had a cool, practicalintellect, which enabled him to govern his diocese with great good sense. Impatient and ardent people nicknamed him Saint Thomas at the time, onaccount of the manner in which his doubts persisted until events at lastforced his hand. Indeed, he turned a deaf ear to all the stories thatwere being related, firmly resolved as he was that he would only listento them if it should appear certain that religion had nothing to lose. 

However, the persecutions were about to become more pronounced. TheMinister of Worship in Paris, who had been informed of what was going on, required that a stop should be put to all disorders, and so the Prefectcaused the approaches to the Grotto to be occupied by the military. TheGrotto had already been decorated with vases of flowers offered by thezeal of the faithful and the gratitude of sufferers who had been healed. Money, moreover, was thrown into it; gifts to the Blessed Virginabounded. Rudimentary improvements, too, were carried out in aspontaneous way; some quarrymen cut a kind of reservoir to receive themiraculous water, and others removed the large blocks of stone, andtraced a path in the hillside. However, in presence of the swellingtorrents of people, the Prefect, after renouncing his idea of arrestingBernadette, took the serious resolution of preventing all access to theGrotto by placing a strong palisade in front of it. Some regrettableincidents had lately occurred; various children pretended that they hadseen the devil, some of them being guilty of simulation in this respect, whilst others had given way to real attacks of hysteria, in thecontagious nervous unhinging which was so prevalent. But what a terriblebusiness did the removal of the offerings from the Grotto prove! It wasonly towards evening that the Commissary was able to find a girl willingto let him have a cart on hire, and two hours later this girl fell from aloft and broke one of her ribs. Likewise, a man who had lent an axe hadone of his feet crushed on the morrow by the fall of a block of stone. *It was in the midst of jeers and hisses that the Commissary carried offthe pots of flowers, the tapers which he found burning, the coppers andthe silver hearts which lay upon the sand. People clenched their fists, and covertly called him "thief" and "murderer. " Then the posts for thepalisades were planted in the ground, and the rails were nailed to thecrossbars, no little labour being performed to shut off the Mystery, inorder to bar access to the Unknown, and put the miracles in prison. Andthe civil authorities were simple enough to imagine that it was all over, that those few bits of boarding would suffice to stay the poor people whohungered for illusion and hope. 

 * Both of these accidents were interpreted as miracles. --Trans. 

But as soon as the new religion was proscribed, forbidden by the law asan offence, it began to burn with an inextinguishable flame in the depthsof every soul. Believers came to the river bank in far greater numbers, fell upon their knees at a short distance from the Grotto, and sobbedaloud as they gazed at the forbidden heaven. And the sick, the poorailing folks, who were forbidden to seek cure, rushed on the Grottodespite all prohibitions, slipped in whenever they could find an apertureor climbed over the palings when their strength enabled them to do so, inthe one ardent desire to steal a little of the water. What! there was aprodigious water in that Grotto, which restored the sight to the blind, which set the infirm erect upon their legs again, which instantaneouslyhealed all ailments; and there were officials cruel enough to put thatwater under lock and key so that it might not cure any more poor people!Why, it was monstrous! And a cry of hatred arose from all the humbleones, all the disinherited ones who had as much need of the Marvellous asof bread to live! In accordance with a municipal decree, the names of alldelinquents were to be taken by the police, and thus one soon beheld awoeful /defile/ of old women and lame men summoned before the Justice ofthe Peace for the sole offence of taking a little water from the fount oflife! They stammered and entreated, at their wit's end when a fine wasimposed upon them. And, outside, the crowd was growling; ragefulunpopularity was gathering around those magistrates who treated humanwretchedness so harshly, those pitiless masters who after taking all thewealth of the world, would not even leave to the poor their dream of therealms beyond, their belief that a beneficent superior power took amaternal interest in them, and was ready to endow them with peace of souland health of body. One day a whole band of poverty-stricken and ailingfolks went to the Mayor, knelt down in his courtyard, and implored himwith sobs to allow the Grotto to be reopened; and the words they spokewere so pitiful that all who heard them wept. A mother showed her childwho was half-dead; would they let the little one die like that in herarms when there was a source yonder which had saved the children of othermothers? A blind man called attention to his dim eyes; a pale, scrofulousyouth displayed the sores on his legs; a paralytic woman sought to joinher woeful twisted hands: did the authorities wish to see them allperish, did they refuse them the last divine chance of life, condemnedand abandoned as they were by the science of man? And equally great wasthe distress of the believers, of those who were convinced that a cornerof heaven had opened amidst the night of their mournful existences, andwho were indignant that they should be deprived of the chimericaldelight, the supreme relief for their human and social sufferings, whichthey found in the belief that the Blessed Virgin had indeed come downfrom heaven to bring them the priceless balm of her intervention. However, the Mayor was unable to promise anything, and the crowd withdrewweeping, ready for rebellion, as though under the blow of some great actof injustice, an act of idiotic cruelty towards the humble and the simplefor which Heaven would assuredly take vengeance. 

The struggle went on for several months; and it was an extraordinaryspectacle which those sensible men--the Minister, the Prefect, and theCommissary of Police--presented, all animated with the best intentionsand contending against the ever-swelling crowd of despairing ones, whowould not allow the doors of dreamland to be closed upon them, who wouldnot be shut off from the mystic glimpse of future happiness in which theyfound consolation for their present wretchedness. The authoritiesrequired order, the respect of a discreet religion, the triumph ofreason; whereas the need of happiness carried the people off into anenthusiastic desire for cure both in this world and in the next. Oh! tocease suffering, to secure equality in the comforts of life; to march onunder the protection of a just and beneficent Mother, to die only toawaken in heaven! And necessarily the burning desire of the multitude, the holy madness of the universal joy, was destined to sweep aside therigid, morose conceptions of a well-regulated society in which theever-recurring epidemical attacks of religious hallucination arecondemned as prejudicial to good order and healthiness of mind. 

The Sainte-Honorine Ward, on hearing the story, likewise revolted. Pierreagain had to pause, for many were the stifled exclamations in which theCommissary of Police was likened to Satan and Herod. La Grivotte had satup on her mattress, stammering: "Ah! the monsters! To behave like that tothe Blessed Virgin who has cured me!"

And even Madame Vetu--once more penetrated by a ray of hope amidst thecovert certainty she felt that she was going to die--grew angry at theidea that the Grotto would not have existed had the Prefect won the day. "There would have been no pilgrimages, " she said, "we should not be here, hundreds of us would not be cured every year. "

A fit of stifling came over her, however, and Sister Hyacinthe had toraise her to a sitting posture. Madame de Jonquiere was profiting by theinterruption to attend to a young woman afflicted with a spinalcomplaint, whilst two other women, unable to remain on their beds, sounbearable was the heat, prowled about with short, silent steps, lookingquite white in the misty darkness. And from the far end of the ward, where all was black, there resounded a noise of painful breathing, whichhad been going on without a pause, accompanying Pierre's narrative like arattle. Elise Rouquet alone was sleeping peacefully, still stretched uponher back, and displaying her disfigured countenance, which was slowlydrying. 

Midnight had struck a quarter of an hour previously, and Abbe Judainemight arrive at any moment for the communion. Grace was now againdescending into Marie's heart, and she was convinced that if the BlessedVirgin had refused to cure her it was, indeed, her own fault in havingdoubted when she entered the piscina. And she, therefore, repented of herrebellion as of a crime. Could she ever be forgiven? Her pale face sankdown among her beautiful fair hair, her eyes filled with tears, and shelooked at Pierre with an expression of anguish. "Oh! how wicked I was, myfriend, " she said. "It was through hearing you relate how that Prefectand those magistrates sinned through pride, that I understood mytransgression. One must believe, my friend; there is no happiness outsidefaith and love. "

Then, as Pierre wished to break off at the point which he had reached, they all began protesting and calling for the continuation of hisnarrative, so that he had to promise to go on to the triumph of theGrotto. 

Its entrance remained barred by the palisade, and you had to comesecretly at night if you wished to pray and carry off a stolen bottle ofwater. Still, the fear of rioting increased, for it was rumoured thatwhole villages intended to come down from the hills in order to deliverGod, as they naively expressed it. It was a /levee en masse/ of thehumble, a rush of those who hungered for the miraculous, so irresistiblein its impetuosity that mere common sense, mere considerations of publicorder were to be swept away like chaff. And it was Monseigneur Laurence, in his episcopal residence at Tarbes, who was first forced to surrender. All his prudence, all his doubts were outflanked by the popular outburst. For five long months he had been able to remain aloof, preventing hisclergy from following the faithful to the Grotto, and defending theChurch against the tornado of superstition which had been let loose. Butwhat was the use of struggling any longer? He felt the wretchedness ofthe suffering people committed to his care to be so great that heresigned himself to granting them the idolatrous religion for which herealised them to be eager. Some prudence remaining to him, however, hecontented himself in the first instance with drawing up an /ordonnance/, appointing a commission of inquiry, which was to investigate thequestion; this implied the acceptance of the miracles after a period oflonger or shorter duration. If Monseigneur Laurence was the man ofhealthy culture and cool reason that he is pictured to have been, howgreat must have been his anguish on the morning when he signed that/ordonnance/! He must have knelt in his oratory, and have begged theSovereign Master of the world to dictate his conduct to him. He did notbelieve in the apparitions; he had a loftier, more intellectual idea ofthe manifestations of the Divinity. Only would he not be showing truepity and mercy in silencing the scruples of his reason, the nobleprejudices of his faith, in presence of the necessity of granting thatbread of falsehood which poor humanity requires in order to be happy?Doubtless, he begged the pardon of Heaven for allowing it to be mixed upin what he regarded as childish pastime, for exposing it to ridicule inconnection with an affair in which there was only sickliness anddementia. But his flock suffered so much, hungered so ravenously for themarvellous, for fairy stories with which to lull the pains of life. Andthus, in tears, the Bishop at last sacrificed his respect for the dignityof Providence to his sensitive pastoral charity for the woeful humanflock. 

Then the Emperor in his turn gave way. He was at Biarritz at the time, and was kept regularly informed of everything connected with this affairof the apparitions, with which the entire Parisian press was alsooccupying itself, for the persecutions would not have been complete ifthe pens of Voltairean newspaper-men had not meddled in them. And whilsthis Minister, his Prefect, and his Commissary of Police were fighting forcommon sense and public order, the Emperor preserved his wontedsilence--the deep silence of a day-dreamer which nobody ever penetrated. Petitions arrived day by day, yet he held his tongue. Bishops came, greatpersonages, great ladies of his circle watched and drew him on one side, and still he held his tongue. A truceless warfare was being waged aroundhim: on one side the believers and the men of fanciful minds whom theMysterious strongly interested; on the other the unbelievers and thestatesmen who distrusted the disturbances of the imagination;--and stilland ever he held his tongue. Then, all at once, with the sudden decisionof a naturally timid man, he spoke out. The rumour spread that he hadyielded to the entreaties of his wife Eugenie. No doubt she didintervene, but the Emperor was more deeply influenced by a revival of hisold humanitarian dreams, his genuine compassion for the disinherited. *Like the Bishop, he did not wish to close the portals of illusion to thewretched by upholding the unpopular decree which forbade despairingsufferers to go and drink life at the holy source. So he sent a telegram, a curt order to remove the palisade, so as to allow everybody free accessto the Grotto. 

 * I think this view of the matter the right one, for, as all who know the history of the Second Empire are aware, it was about this time that the Emperor began taking great interest in the erection of model dwellings for the working classes, and the plantation and transformation of the sandy wastes of the Landes. --Trans. 

Then came a shout of joy and triumph. The decree annulling the previousone was read at Lourdes to the sound of drum and trumpet. The Commissaryof Police had to come in person to superintend the removal of thepalisade. He was afterwards transferred elsewhere like the Prefect. *People flocked to Lourdes from all parts, the new /cultus/ was organisedat the Grotto, and a cry of joy ascended: God had won the victory!God?--alas, no! It was human wretchedness which had won the battle, humanwretchedness with its eternal need of falsehood, its hunger for themarvellous, its everlasting hope akin to that of some condemned man who, for salvation's sake, surrenders himself into the hands of an invisibleOmnipotence, mightier than nature, and alone capable, should it bewilling, of annulling nature's laws. And that which had also conqueredwas the sovereign compassion of those pastors, the merciful Bishop andmerciful Emperor who allowed those big sick children to retain the fetichwhich consoled some of them and at times even cured others. 

 * The Prefect was transferred to Grenoble, and curiously enough his new jurisdiction extended over the hills and valleys of La Salette, whither pilgrims likewise flocked to drink, pray, and wash themselves at a miraculous fountain. Warned by experience, however, Baron Massy (such was the Prefect's name) was careful to avoid any further interference in religious matters. --Trans. 

In the middle of November the episcopal commission came to Lourdes toprosecute the inquiry which had been entrusted to it. It questionedBernadette yet once again, and studied a large number of miracles. However, in order that the evidence might be absolute, it only registeredsome thirty cases of cure. And Monseigneur Laurence declared himselfconvinced. Nevertheless, he gave a final proof of his prudence, bycontinuing to wait another three years before declaring in a pastoralletter that the Blessed Virgin had in truth appeared at the Grotto ofMassabielle and that numerous miracles had subsequently taken placethere. Meantime, he had purchased the Grotto itself, with all the landaround it, from the municipality of Lourdes, on behalf of his see. Workwas then begun, modestly at first, but soon on a larger and larger scaleas money began to flow in from all parts of Christendom. The Grotto wascleared and enclosed with an iron railing. The Gave was thrown back intoa new bed, so as to allow of spacious approaches to the shrine, withlawns, paths, and walks. At last, too, the church which the Virgin hadasked for, the Basilica, began to rise on the summit of the rock itself. From the very first stroke of the pick, Abbe Peyramale, the parish priestof Lourdes, went on directing everything with even excessive zeal, forthe struggle had made him the most ardent and most sincere of allbelievers in the work that was to be accomplished. With his somewhatrough but truly fatherly nature, he had begun to adore Bernadette, makingher mission his own, and devoting himself, soul and body, to realisingthe orders which he had received from Heaven through her innocent mouth. And he exhausted himself in mighty efforts; he wished everything to bevery beautiful and very grand, worthy of the Queen of the Angels who haddeigned to visit this mountain nook. The first religious ceremony did nottake place till six years after the apparitions. A marble statue of theVirgin was installed with great pomp on the very spot where she hadappeared. It was a magnificent day, all Lourdes was gay with flags, andevery bell rang joyously. Five years later, in 1869, the first mass wascelebrated in the crypt of the Basilica, whose spire was not yetfinished. Meantime, gifts flowed in without a pause, a river of gold wasstreaming towards the Grotto, a whole town was about to spring up fromthe soil. It was the new religion completing its foundations. The desireto be healed did heal; the thirst for a miracle worked the miracle. ADeity of pity and hope was evolved from man's sufferings, from thatlonging for falsehood and relief which, in every age of humanity, hascreated the marvellous palaces of the realms beyond, where an almightyPower renders justice and distributes eternal happiness. 

And thus the ailing ones of the Sainte-Honorine Ward only beheld in thevictory of the Grotto the triumph of their hopes of cure. Along the rowsof beds there was a quiver of joy when, with his heart stirred by allthose poor faces turned towards him, eager for certainty, Pierrerepeated: "God had conquered. Since that day the miracles have neverceased, and it is the most humble who are the most frequently relieved. "

Then he laid down the little book. Abbe Judaine was coming in, and theSacrament was about to be administered. Marie, however, again penetratedby the fever of faith, her hands burning, leant towards Pierre. "Oh, myfriend!" said she, "I pray you hear me confess my fault and absolve me. Ihave blasphemed, and have been guilty of mortal sin. If you do notsuccour me, I shall be unable to receive the Blessed Sacrament, and yet Iso greatly need to be consoled and strengthened. "

The young priest refused her request with a wave of the hand. He hadnever been willing to act as confessor to this friend, the only woman hehad loved in the healthy, smiling days of youth. However, she insisted. "I beg you to do so, " said she; "you will help to work the miracle of mycure. "

Then he gave way and received the avowal of her fault, that impiousrebellion induced by suffering, that rebellion against the Virgin who hadremained deaf to her prayers. And afterwards he granted her absolution inthe sacramental form. 

Meanwhile Abbe Judaine had already deposited the ciborium on a littletable, between two lighted tapers, which looked like woeful stars in thesemi-obscurity of the ward. Madame de Jonquiere had just decided to openone of the windows quite wide, for the odour emanating from all thesuffering bodies and heaped-up rags had become unbearable. But no aircame in from the narrow courtyard into which the window opened; thoughblack with night, it seemed like a well of fire. Having offered to act asserver, Pierre repeated the "Confiteor. " Then, after responding with the"Misereatur" and the "Indulgentiam, " the chaplain, who wore his alb, raised the pyx, saying, "Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sinsof the world. " All the women who, writhing in agony, were impatientlyawaiting the communion, like dying creatures who await life from somefresh medicine which is a long time coming, thereupon thrice repeated, inall humility, and with lips almost closed: "Lord, I am not worthy thatThou shouldst enter under my roof; but only say the word and my soulshall be healed. "

Abbe Judaine had begun to make the round of those woeful beds, accompanied by Pierre, and followed by Madame de Jonquiere and SisterHyacinthe, each of whom carried one of the lighted tapers. The Sisterdesignated those who were to communicate; and, murmuring the customaryLatin words, the priest leant forward and placed the Host somewhat atrandom on the sufferer's tongue. Almost all were waiting for him withwidely opened, glittering eyes, amidst the disorder of that hastilypitched camp. Two were found to be sound asleep, however, and had to beawakened. Several were moaning without being conscious of it, andcontinued moaning even after they had received the sacrament. At the farend of the ward, the rattle of the poor creature who could not be seenstill resounded. And nothing could have been more mournful than theappearance of that little /cortege/ in the semi-darkness, amidst whichthe yellow flames of the tapers gleamed like stars. 

But Marie's face, to which an expression of ecstasy had returned, waslike a divine apparition. Although La Grivotte was hungering for thebread of life, they had refused her the sacrament on this occasion, as itwas to be administered to her in the morning at the Rosary; Madame Vetu, however, had received the Host on her black tongue in a hiccough. And nowMarie was lying there under the pale light of the tapers, looking sobeautiful amidst her fair hair, with her eyes dilated and her featurestransfigured by faith, that everyone admired her. She received thesacrament with rapture; Heaven visibly descended into her poor, youthfulframe, reduced to such physical wretchedness. And, clasping Pierre'shand, she detained him for a moment, saying: "Oh! she will heal me, myfriend, she has just promised me that she will do so. Go and take somerest. I shall sleep so soundly now!"

As he withdrew in company with Abbe Judaine, Pierre caught sight oflittle Madame Desagneaux stretched out in the arm-chair in whichweariness had overpowered her. Nothing could awaken her. It was nowhalf-past one in the morning; and Madame de Jonquiere and her assistant, Sister Hyacinthe, were still going backwards and forwards, turning thepatients over, cleansing them, and dressing their sores. However, theward was becoming more peaceful, its heavy darkness had grown lessoppressive since Bernadette with her charm had passed through it. Thevisionary's little shadow was now flitting in triumph from bed to bed, completing its work, bringing a little of heaven to each of thedespairing ones, each of the disinherited ones of this world; and as theyall at last sank to sleep they could see the little shepherdess, soyoung, so ill herself, leaning over them and kissing them with a kindlysmile.