midnight
In the dim streets of Lourdes , far off , there were now only some stray , lost pilgrims inquiring their way , in order that they might get to bed . Through the darkness there swept a rustling sound -- the rustling of those who prowl and fall asleep when days of festivity draw to a close . But the young priest and the girl lingered in their nook forgetfully , never stirring , but tasting delicious happiness amidst the perfume of the invisible roses . WHEN Pierre dragged Marie in her box to the front of the Grotto , and placed her as near as possible to the railing , it was past midnight , and about a hundred persons were still there , some seated on the benches , but the greater number kneeling as though prostrated in prayer . The Grotto shone from afar , with its multitude of lighted tapers , similar to the illumination round a coffin , though all that you could distinguish was a star-like blaze , from the midst of which , with visionary whiteness , emerged the statue of the Virgin in its niche . The hanging foliage assumed an emerald sheen , the hundreds of crutches covering the vault resembled an inextricable network of dead wood on the point of reflowering . And the darkness was rendered more dense by so great a brightness , the surroundings became lost in a deep shadow in which nothing , neither walls nor trees , remained ; whilst all alone ascended the angry and continuous murmur of the Gave , rolling along beneath the gloomy , boundless sky , now heavy with a gathering storm .