Section 24 of Lourdes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please contact LibriVox.org. Lourdes by Emile Zola, translated by Ernest Visitelli. The fifth day. Four. Marie's vow. Once more was the white train rolling, rolling towards Paris on its way home, and the third-class carriage where the shrill voices singing the magnificat at full pitch rose above the growling of the wheels, had again become a common room, a travelling hospital ward full of disorder littered like an improvised ambulance. Basins and brooms and sponges lay about under the seats which half concealed them. Articles of luggage, all the wretched mass of poor worn-out things were heaped together a little bit everywhere, and up above the litter began again, what with the parcels, the baskets and the bags hanging from the brass pegs and swinging to and fro without a moment's rest. The same sisters of the assumption and the same lady-hospitalers were there with their patients, amidst the contingent of healthy pilgrims who were already suffering from the overpowering heat and unbearable odor.  At what time shall we reach Paris, Monsieur de Gersin inquired of Pierre? Tomorrow at about two in the afternoon, I think, the priest replied. Since starting Marie had been looking at the latter with an air of anxious preoccupation, as though haunted by a sudden sorrow which she could not reveal. However, she found her gay, healthful smile again to say, Twenty-two hours journey, ah, it won't be so long and trying as it was coming. Besides resumed her father, we have left some of our people behind, we have plenty of room now. In fact, Madame Mars' absence left a corner free at the end of the seat which Marie, now sitting up like any other passenger, no longer encumbered with her box. Moreover, little Sophie had this time been placed in the next compartment, where there was neither brother Isidore nor his sister Marte. The latter, it was said, had remained at Lourdes in service with a pious lady. On the other side, Madame de Junquier and Sister Yersaint also had the benefit of a vacant seat, that of Madame Vitu. And it had further occurred to them to get rid of Elise Rouquet by placing her with Sophie, so that only La Grivotte and the Sabatier couple were with them in their compartment. Thanks to these new arrangements they were better able to breathe and perhaps they might manage to sleep a little. The last verse of the Magnificat having been sung, the ladies finished installing themselves as comfortably as possible by setting their little household in order. One of the most important matters was to put the zinc water can, which interfered with their legs, out of the way. All the blinds of the left-hand windows had been pulled down, for the oblique sun rays were falling on the train and had poured into it in sheets of fire. The last storms, however, must have laid the dust and the night would certainly be cool. Moreover, there was less suffering. Death had carried off the most afflicted ones and only stupefied ailments, numbed by fatigue and lapsing into a slow torpor, remained. The overpowering reaction which always follows great moral shocks was about to declare itself. The souls had made the efforts required of them, the miracles had been worked, and now the relaxing was beginning amidst a habitude tinged with profound relief. Until they got to Talb they were all very much occupied in setting things in order and making themselves comfortable. But as they left that station, Sister Ea sound rose up and clapped her hands. My children said she, we must not forget the blessed Virgin who has been so kind to us. Let us begin the rosary. Then the whole carriage repeated the first chaplet, the five joyful mysteries, the enunciation, the visitation, the nativity, the purification and the finding of Jesus in the temple. And afterwards they entoned the canticle. Let us contemplate the heavenly archangel in such loud voices that the peasants working in the fields raised their heads to look at this singing train as it rushed past them at full speed. Marie was at the window, gazing with admiration at the vast landscape and the immense stretch of sky which had gradually freed itself of its mist and was now over dazzling blue. It was the delicious close of a fine day. However she at last looked back into the carriage and her eyes were fixing themselves on pier with that mute sadness which had previously dimmed them when all at once a sound of furious sobbing burst forth in front of her. The canticle was finished and it was Madame Vincent who was crying, stammering confused words, half choked by her tears.  Ah, my jewel, my treasure, my life! She had previously remained in her corner shrinking back into it as though anxious to disappear. With a fierce face her lips tightly set and her eyes closed as though to isolate herself in the depths of her cruel grief she had hitherto not said a word. But, chanceing to open her eyes, she had aspired the leather window strap hanging down beside the door and the sight of that strap which her daughter had touched almost played with at one moment during the previous journey had overwhelmed her with a frantic despair which swept away her resolution to remain silent. Ah, my poor little Rose, she continued. Her little hand touched that strap. She turned it and looked at it. Ah, it was her last plaything. And we were there both together then. She was still alive. I still had her on my lap in my arms. It was still so nice, so nice. But now I no longer have her. I shall never, never have her again.  Distracted, sobbing bitterly, she looked at her knees and her arms on which nothing now rested and which she was at a loss how to employ. She had so long rocked her daughter on her knees, so long carried her in her arms that it now seemed to her as if some portion of her being had been amputated as if her body had been deprived of one of its functions, leaving her diminished, unoccupied, distracted at being unable to fulfil that function any more. Those useless arms and knees of hers quite embarrassed her. Pierre and Marie, who were deeply moved, had drawn near, uttering kind words and striving to console the unhappy mother. And little by little from the disconnected sentences which mingled with her sobs, they learned what a calvary she had ascended since her daughter's death. On the morning of the previous day, when she had carried the body off in her arms amidst the storm, she must have long continued walking, blind and deaf to everything, whilst the torrential rain beat down upon her. She no longer remembered what squares she had crossed, what streets she had traversed, as she roamed through that infamous lord, that lord which killed little children, that lord which she cursed. Ah, I can't remember. I can't remember, she faltered.  Ah, I can't remember where, but it was somewhere high up, far away, at the other end of the town. And there were certainly very poor folk, for I can still see myself in a poor-looking room with my dear little one who was quite cold, and whom they laid upon their bed. At this recollection, a fresh attack of sobbing shook her, in fact almost stifled her. No, no, she had last resumed, I would not part with her dear little body by leaving it in that abominable town. And I can't tell exactly how it happened, but it must have been those poor people who took me with them. We did a great deal of walking. Oh, a great deal of walking. We saw all those gentlemen of the pilgrimage in the railway. What can it matter to you, I repeated to them. Let me take her back to Paris in my arms. I brought her here like that when she was alive. I may surely take her back dead. Nobody will notice anything. People will think that she is asleep. And all of them, all those officials, began shouting and driving me away as though I were asking them to let me do something wicked. Then I ended by telling them my mind.  And do you know how much money they ended by asking of me at the station? Three hundred francs. Yes, it appears it is the price. Three hundred francs, good Lord, of me who came here with thirty sewers in my pocket and have only five left. Why, I don't earn that amount of money by six months sewing.  I would have given it so willingly. Three hundred francs.  Then she began stammering and complaining in a confused husky voice. Ah, if you only knew how sensibly those poor people talked to me to induce me to go back. A workwoman like myself with work waiting ought to return to Paris, they said. And besides, I couldn't afford to sacrifice my return ticket. I must take the 340 train. And they told me, too, that people are compelled to put up with things when they are not rich. Only the rich can keep their dead, do what they like with them, eh? And I can't remember. No, again, I can't remember. I didn't even know the time. I should never have been able to find my way back to the station. After the funeral over there, at a place where there were two trees, it must have been those poor people who had brought me to the station and pushed me into the carriage just at the moment when the train was starting. But what a rending it was, as if my heart had remained there underground and it is frightful, that it is. Frightful, my God. Poor woman, moment Marie. Take courage and pray to the Blessed Virgin for the sake of which she never refuses to be afflicted. But at this, Madame Vincent shook with rage. It isn't true, she cried. The Blessed Virgin doesn't care a rap about me. She doesn't tell the truth. Why did she deceive me? I should never have gone to Lord if I hadn't heard that voice in a church. My little girl would still be alive and perhaps the doctors would have saved her. I, who would never set my foot among the priests formally. Ah, I was right. I was right. There's no Blessed Virgin at all. And in this wise, without resignation, without illusion, without hope, she continued blaspheming with the coarse fury of a woman of the people, with the sufferings of her heart allowed in such rough fashion that Sister Yersaint had to intervene. Be quiet, you unhappy woman.  The scene had already lasted a long time and as they passed riskily at full speed, the sister again clapped her hands and gave the signal for the chanting of the Laudate Mariam.  In heaven, on earth, all voices raise. In concert sing my mother's praise. Laudate, laudate, laudate Mariam. Madame Vincent, whose voice was drowned by this canticle of love, now only sobbed with her hands pressed to her face. Her revolt was over. She was again strengthless, weak like a suffering woman whom grief and weariness have stupefied. After the canticle, fatigue fell more or less heavily upon all the occupants of the carriage. Only Sister Yersaint, so quick and active, and Sister Claire Desanges, so gentle, serious, and slight, retained, as on their departure from Paris and during their sojourn at Lourdes, the professional serenity of women accustomed to everything and wanted to triumph over everything amidst the bright gaiety of their white coiffes and wimples. Mme de Jean-Kyr, who had scarcely slept for five days past, had to make an effort to keep her poor eyes open and yet she was delighted with the journey for her heart was full of joy at having arranged her daughter's marriage and at bringing back with her the greatest of all the miracles, Amidraculée, whom everybody was talking of. She decided in her own mind that she would get to sleep that night, however bad the jolting might be, though on the other hand she could not shake off a covert fear with regard to la grivote, who looked very strange, excited, and haggard, with dull eyes and cheeks glowing with patches of violet colour. Mme de Jean-Kyr had tried a dozen times to keep her from fidgeting but had not been able to induce her to remain still with joined hands and closed eyes. Fortunately, the other patients gave her no anxiety. Most of them were either so relieved or so weary that they were already dozing off. Elise Rouquet, however, had bought herself a pocket-mirror, a large round one in which she did not weary of contemplating herself, finding herself quite pretty and verifying from minute to minute the progress of her cure with a coquetry which, now that her monstrous face was becoming human again, made her purse her lips and try a variety of smiles. As for Sophie Couture she was playing very prettily, for finding that nobody now asked to examine her foot she had taken off her shoe and stocking of her own accord, repeating that she must surely have a pebble in one or the other of them and as her companions still paid no attention to that little foot which the Blessed Virgin had been pleased to visit she kept it in her hands, caressing it seemingly delighted to touch it and turn it into a plaything. M. de Gersin had meantime risen from his seat and, leaning on the low partition between the compartments, he was glancing at M. Sabatier when all of a sudden Marie called, oh father, father look at this notch in the seat it was the ironwork of my box that made it. The discovery of this trace rendered her so happy that for a moment she forgot the secret sorrow which she seemed anxious to keep to herself and in the same way as M. Vincent had burst out sobbing on perceiving the leather strap which her little girl had touched so she burst into joy at the sight of this scratch which reminded her of her long martyrdom in this same carriage all the abomination which had now disappeared vanished like a nightmare to think that four days have scarcely gone by she said I was lying there I could not stir and now now I come and go and feel so comfortable Pierre and M. de Gersin were smiling at her and M. Sabatier who had heard her slowly said it is quite true we leave a little of ourselves in things a little of our sufferings and our hopes and when we find them again they speak to us and once more tell us the things which sadden us or make us gay he had remained in his corner silent with an air of resignation ever since their departure from Lord even his wife while strapping up his legs had only been able to obtain sundry shakes of the head from him in response to her inquiries whether he was suffering in point of fact he was not suffering but extreme dejection was overcoming him thus for my own part he continued during our long journey from Paris I tried to divert my thoughts by counting the bands in the roofing up there there were 13 from the lamp to the door well I have just been counting them again and naturally enough there are still 13 it's like that brass knob beside me you can't imagine what dreams I had whilst I watched it shining at night time when M. Labais was reading the story of Bernadette to us yes I saw myself cured I was making that journey to Rome which I have been talking off for 20 years past I walked and travelled the world in all manner of wild and delightful dreams and now here we are on our way back to Paris and there are 13 bands across the roofing there and the knob is still shining all of which tells me that I'm again on the same seat with my legs lifeless well well it's understood I'm a poor old used up animal and such I shall remain two big tears appeared in his eyes he must have been passing through an hour of frightful bitterness however he raised his big square head which drew a typical of patient obstinacy and added this is the seventh year that I have been to Lourdes and the Blessed Virgin has not listened to me no matter it won't prevent me from going back next year perhaps you will at last deign to hear me for his part he did not revolt and Pierre whilst chatting with him was stupefied to find persistent tenacious credulity springing up once more in spite of everything in the cultivated brain of this man of intellect what ardent desire of cure and life was it that had led to this refusal to accept evidence this determination to remain blind he stubbornly clung to the resolution to be saved when all human probabilities were against him when the experiment of the miracle itself had failed so many times already and he had reached such a point that he wished to explain his fresh rebuff urging moments of inattention at the grotto a lack of sufficient contrition and all sorts of little transgressions which must have displeased the Blessed Virgin moreover he was already deciding in his mind that he would perform an avena somewhere next year before again repairing to Lord ah by the way he assumed do you know of the good luck which my substitutors had yes you must remember my telling you about that poor fellow suffering from tuberculosis for whom I paid 50 francs when I obtained hospitalisation for myself well he has been thoroughly cured really and he was suffering from tuberculosis he exclaimed to Monsieur de Gersin certainly Monsieur perfectly cured I had seen him looking so low so yellow so emaciated when we started but when he came to pay me a visit at the hospital he was quite a new man and dear me I gave him five francs Pierre had to restrain a smile for he had heard the story from Dr. Chasseigne this miraculously healed individual was a faena who had eventually been recognised at the medical verification office it was apparently the third year that he had presented himself there the first time alleging paralysis and the second time a tumour both of which had been as completely healed as his pretended tuberculosis on each occasion he obtained an outing lodging and food and returned home loaded with arms it appeared that he had formally been a hospital nurse and that he transformed himself made up a face suited to his pretended ailment in such an extremely artistic manner that it was only by chance that one of me had detected the imposition moreover the fathers had immediately required that the incident should be kept secret what was the use of stirring up a scandal which would only have led to jocular remarks in the newspapers whenever any fraudulent miracles of this kind were discovered the fathers contented themselves with forcing the guilty parties to go away moreover these faenas were far from numerous despite all that was related of them in the amusing stories concocted by Voltarian humorists apart from faith stupidity and ignorance alas were quite sufficient to account for the miracles Monsieur Sabatier however was greatly stirred by the idea that heaven had healed this man who had gone to lord at his expense whereas he himself was returning home still helpless still in the same woeful state he sighed and despite all his resignation could not help saying with the touch of envy what would you however blessed virgin must know very well what she's about neither you nor myself can call her account to us for her actions whenever it may please her to cast her eyes on me she will find me at her feet after the angeles when they got to Monde Malson Sister Yersaint made them repeat the second chaplet the five sorrowful mysteries Jesus in the garden of olives Jesus scourged Jesus crowned with thorns and Jesus carrying his cross then they took dinner in the carriage for there would be no stopping until they reached Bordeaux where they would only arrive at 11 o'clock at night all the pilgrims' baskets were crammed with provisions to say nothing of the milk, broth, chocolate and fruit which sister Saint-François had sent from the cantina then too there was fraternal sharing they sat with their food on their laps and drew closer together every compartment becoming as it were the scene of a picnic to which each contributed his share and they had finished their meal and were packing up the remaining bread again when the train passed Malson my children now said sister Yersaint rising up the evening prayer there upon came a confused murmuring made up of pâtres and arvés self-examinations, acts of contrition and vows of trustful reliance in God the Blessed Virgin and the Saints with thanksgiving for that happy day and at last a prayer for the living and for the faithful departed I warn you then resumed to the sister that when we get to La Morte at 10 o'clock I shall order silence however I think you will all be very good and won't require any rocking to get to sleep this made them laugh it was now half-past eight o'clock and the night had slowly covered the countryside the hills alone retained a vague trace of the twilight's farewell whilst a dense sheet of darkness blotted out all the low ground rushing on at full speed the train entered an immense plain and then there was nothing but a sea of darkness through which they ever and ever rolled under a blackish sky studded with stars for a moment or so Pierre had been astonished by the demeanour of La Grivote while the other pilgrims and patients were already dozing off, sinking down amidst the luggage which the constant jolting shook, she had risen to her feet and was clinging to the partition in a sudden spasm of agony and under the pale yellow dancing gleam of the lamp she once more looked emaciated with a livid tortured face take care madame, she will fall the priest called to madame de Genquière who with eyelids lowered was at last giving way to sleep all haste to intervene but Cicillia had turned more quickly and caught La Grivote in her arms a frightful fit of coughing, however, prostrated the unhappy creature upon the seat and for five minutes she continued stifling shaken by such an attack that her poor body seemed to be actually cracking and rending then a red thread oozed from between her lips and at last she spat up blood by the throatful court heavens, court heavens it's coming on her again repeated madame de Genquière in despair she had a fear of it I was not at ease seeing her looking so strange wait a moment, I will sit down beside her but the sister would not consent no, no madame sleep a little, I'll watch over her you are not accustomed to it you would end by making yourself ill as well then she settled herself beside La Grivote made her rest her head against her shoulder and wiped the blood from her lips the attack subsided but weakness was coming back so extreme that the wretched woman was scarcely able to stammer oh, it is nothing, nothing at all I am cured, I am cured completely cured Pierre was thoroughly upset this sudden overwhelming relapse had sent an icy chill through the whole carriage many of the passengers raised themselves up and looked at La Grivote with terror in their eyes then they dived down into their corners again and nobody spoke, nobody stirred any further Pierre, for his part reflected on the curious medical aspect of this girl's case her strength had come back to her over Yonder she had displayed a ravenous appetite she had walked long distances with a dancing gate her face quite radiant for a while and now she had spat blood her cough had broken out afresh she again had the heavy ashen face of one in the last agony her ailment had returned to her with brutal force, victorious over everything was this then some special case of thysis complicated by neurosis or was it some other malady some unknown disease quietly continuing its work in the midst of contradictory diagnoses the sea of error and ignorance the darkness amidst which human science is still struggling again appeared to Pierre and he once more saw Dr. Chasseigne shrugging his shoulders with disdain whilst Dr. Bonamy full of serenity quietly continued his verification work absolutely convinced that nobody would be able to prove to him the impossibility of his miracles any more than he himself could have proved their possibility oh I am not frightened like Grivot continued stammering I am cured, completely cured they all told me so over yonder meantime the carriage was rolling rolling along through the black night each of its occupants was making preparations stretching himself out in order to sleep more comfortably they compelled Madame Vincent to lie down on the seat and gave her a pillow on which to rest her poor pain wracked head and then as docile as a child terrified she fell asleep in a nightmare like torpor with big silent tears still flowing from her closed eyes Elise Rouquet who had a whole seat to herself was also getting ready to lie down but first of all she made quite an elaborate toilet tying the black wrap which had served to hide her sore about her head and then again peering into her glass to see if this headgear became her now that the swelling of her lip had subsided and again did Pierre feel astonished at the sight of that sore healing if not already healed that face so lately a monster's face which one could now look at without feeling horrified the sea of insertitude stretched before him once more was it even a real lupus might it not rather be some unknown form of ulcer of hysterical origin or ought one to admit that certain forms of lupus as yet but imperfectly studied at arising from faulty nutrition of the skin might be benefited by a great moral shock at all events there here seemed to be a miracle unless indeed the sore should reappear again in three weeks three months or three years time like Lagrivo's thysis it was ten o'clock and the people in the carriage were falling asleep when they left Lamotte Sister Yersaint upon whose knees Lagrivo was now drowsily resting her head was unable to rise and for form's sake merely said silence silence my children in a low voice which died away amidst the growling rumble of the wheels however something continued stirring in an adjoining compartment she heard a noise which irritated her nerves and the course of which she had last fancied she could understand why do you keep on kicking the seat Sophie she asked you must get to sleep my child I'm not kicking sister it's a key that was rolling about under my foot a key? how is that pass it to me then she examined it very old poor looking key it was blackened worn away and polished by long use its ring bearing the mark of where it had been broken and resoldered however they all searched their pockets and none of them it seemed had lost a key I found it in the corner now resumed Sophie it must have belonged to the man what man asked sister Yersaint the man who died there they had already forgotten him but it had surely been his for sister Yersaint recollected that she had something fall while she was wiping his forehead and she turned to the key over and continued looking at it as it lay in her hand poor ugly wretched key that it was no longer of any use never again to open the lock it belonged to some unknown lock hidden far away in the depths of the world for a moment she was minded to put it in her pocket as though by a kind of compassion for this little bit of iron so humble and so mysterious since it was all that remained of that unknown man but then the pious thought came to her that it is wrong to show attachment to any earthly thing and the window being half lowered she threw out the key which fell into the black night he must not play any more Sophie she resumed come come my children silence it was only after the brief stay at Bordeaux however at about half past eleven o'clock that sleep came back again and overpowered all in the carriage Madame de Genquière had been unable to contend against it any longer and her head was now resting against the partition her face wearing an expression of happiness amidst all her fatigue the sabatiers were in a like fashion calmly sleeping and not a sound now came from the compartment which Sophie Couto and Elise Rouquet occupied stretched in front of each other on the seats from time to time a low plane would rise a strangled cry of grief or fright escaping from the lips of Madame Vincent who amidst her prostration was being tortured by evil dreams Sister Yersaint was one of the very few who still had their eyes open anxious as she was respecting la grivote who now lay quite motionless like a felled animal breathing painfully with a continuous wheezing sound from one to the other end of this travelling dormitory shaken by the rumbling of the train rolling on at full speed the pilgrims and the sick surrendered themselves to sleep and limbs dangled and heads swayed under the pale dancing gleams from the laps at the far end in the compartment occupied by the ten female pilgrims there was a woeful jumbling of poor ugly faces old and young and all open mouthed as though sleep had suddenly fallen upon them at the moment they were finishing some hymn great pity came to the heart at the sight of all those mournful, weary beings prostrated by five days of wild hope and infinite ecstasy and destined to awaken on the very morrow to the stern realities of life and now Pierre once more felt himself to be alone with Marie she had not consented to stretch herself on the seat she had been lying down too long she said for seven years alas and in order that Monsieur de Gelsin who on leaving Bordeaux had again fallen into his childlike slumber might be more at ease Pierre came and sat down beside the girl as the light of the lamp annoyed her he drew the little screen and they thus found themselves in the shade a soft and transparent shade the train must now have been crossing a plane for it glided through the night as in an endless flight with a sound like the regular flapping of huge wings through the window which they had opened a delicious coolness came from the black fields the fathomless fields where not even any lonely little village lights could be seen gleaming for a moment Pierre had turned towards Marie and had noticed that her eyes were closed but he could divine that she was not sleeping that she was savoring the deep peacefulness which prevailed around them amidst the thundering roar of their rush through the darkness and like her he closed his eyelids and began dreaming yet once again did the past arise before him the little house at Neuilly the embrace which they had exchanged near the flowering hedge under the trees flecked with sunlight how far away all that already was and with what perfume had it not filled his life then bitter thoughts returned to him at the memory of the day when he had become a priest since she would never be a woman he had consented to be a man no more and that was to prove their eternal misfortune for her ironical nature was to make her a wife rather after all had he only been able to retain his faith he might have found eternal consolation in it but all his attempts to regain it had been in vain he had gone to Lord he had striven his utmost at the grotto he had hoped for a moment that he would end by believing should Marie be miraculously healed but total and irremediable ruin had come when the predicted cure had taken place even as science had foretold and their ideals so pure and so painful the long story of their affection lived in tears likewise spread out before him she having penetrated his sad secret had come to Lord to pray to heaven for the miracle of his conversion when they had remained alone under the trees amidst the perfume of the invisible roses during the night procession they had prayed one for the other mingling one and the other with an ardent desire for their mutual happiness before the grotto too she had entreated the Blessed Virgin to forget her and to save him her divine son then healed beside herself transported with love and gratitude whirled with her little car up the inclined ways to the Basilica she had thought her prayers granted and had cried aloud the joy she felt that they should have both been saved together, together that lie which he prompted by affection and charity had told that error in which he had from that moment suffered her to remain with what a weight did it oppress his heart and bewalled him in his voluntary chosen sepulchre he remembered the frightful attack of grief which had almost killed him in the gloom of the crypt his sobs his brutal revolt his longing to keep her for himself alone to possess her since he knew her to be his own all that rising passion of his awakened manhood which little by little had fallen asleep again drowned by the rushing river of his tears and in order that he might not destroy the divine illusion which possessed her yielding to brotherly compassion he had taken that heroic vow to lie to her that vow which now filled him with such anguish Pierre shuddered amidst his reverie would he have the strength to keep that vow forever had he not detected a feeling of impatience in his heart even whilst he was waiting for her at the railway station a jealous longing to leave that lurch which she loved too well in the vague hope that she might again become his own somewhere far away if he had not been a priest he would have married her and what rapture, what felicity would then have been his he would have given himself wholly unto her she would have been wholly his own and he and she would have lived again in the dear child that would doubtless have been born to them surely that alone was divine the life which is complete the life which creates life and then his reverie strayed he pictured himself married and the thought filled him with such delight that he asked why such a dream should be unrealizable she knew no more than a child of ten he would educate her form her mind she would then understand that this cure for which she thought herself indebted to the blessed virgin had in reality come to her from the only mother serene and impassive nature but even whilst he was thus settling things in his mind a kind of terror born of his religious education arose within him could he tell if that human happiness with which he desired to endow her would ever be worth as much as the holy ignorance the infantile candor in which she now lived how bitterly he would reproach himself afterwards if she should not be happy then too what a drama it would all be he to throw off the cassock and marry this girl healed by an alleged miracle ravage her faith sufficiently to induce her to consent to such sacrilege yet therein lay the brave course there lay reason, life, real manhood real womanhood why then did he not dare horrible sadness was breaking upon his reverie he became conscious of nothing beyond the sufferings of his poor heart the train was still rolling along with its great noise of flapping wings beside Pierre and Marie only sister Ia Sainte was still awake amidst the weary slumber of the carriage and just then Marie lent towards Pierre and softly said to him it's strange my friend I am so sleepy and yet I can't sleep then with a light laugh she added I've got Paris in my head how is that? Paris yes, yes I'm thinking that it's waiting for me that I am about to return to it which I know nothing of and where I shall have to live these words brought fresh anguish to Pierre's heart he had well foreseen it she could no longer belong to him she would belong to others if Lord had restored her to him Paris was about to take her from him again and he pictured this ignorant little being fatally acquiring all the education of woman that little spotless soul which had remained so candid in the frame of a big goal of three and twenty that soul which illness had kept apart from others far from life far even from novels would soon ripen now that it could fly freely once more he beheld her a gay healthy young girl running everywhere looking and learning and some day meeting the husband who would finish her education and so said he you propose to amuse yourself in Paris oh what are you saying my friend are we rich enough to amuse ourselves she replied no I was thinking of my poor sister Blanche and wondering what I should be able to do in Paris to help her a little she is so good she works so hard I don't wish that she should have to continue earning all the money and after a fresh pause as he deeply moved remained silent she added formally before I suffered so dreadfully I painted miniatures rather nicely you remember don't you that I painted a portrait of papa which was very like him and which everybody praised you will help me won't you you will find me customers I was thinking of the new life which she was about to live she wanted to arrange her room and hang it with croton something pretty with a pattern of little blue flowers she would buy it out of the first money she could save Blanche had spoken to her of the big shops where things could be bought so cheaply to go out with Blanche and run about a little would be so amusing for her who confined to her bed since childhood had never seen anything then Pierre who for a moment had been calmer again began to suffer her loving desire to live her ardour to see everything know everything and taste everything it was at last the awakening of the woman whom she was destined to be whom he had divined in childhoods days a dear creature of gaiety and passion with blooming lips, starry eyes a milky complexion, golden hair all resplendent with the joy of being oh I shall work I shall work she resumed but you are right Pierre I shall also amuse myself I shall not Marie on Sundays we will go into the country oh very far away into the woods where there are beautiful trees and we will sometimes go to the theatre too if papa will take us I have been told that there are many plays that one may see but after all it's not all that provided I can go out and walk in the streets and see things I shall be so happy I shall come home so gay it is so nice to live is it not Pierre yes yes Marie it is very nice a chill like that of death was coming over him his regret that he was no longer a man was filling him with agony but since she tempted him like this with her irritating candour why should he not confess to her the truth which was ravaging his being he would have won her, have conquered her never had a more frightful struggle arisen between his heart and his will for a moment he was on the point of uttering irrevocable words but with the voice of a joyous child she was already resuming how pleased he must be to sleep so soundly on the seat in front of them Monsieur de Gersin was indeed slumbering with a comfortable expression on his face as though he were in his bed and had no consciousness of the continual jolting of the train this monotonous rolling and heaving seemed in fact a lullaby rocking the whole carriage to sleep all surrendered themselves to it sinking powerless onto the piles of bags and parcels many of which had also fallen and the rhythmical growling of the wheels never ceased in the unknown darkness through which the train was still rolling now and again as they passed through a station or under a bridge there would be a loud rush of wind a tempest would suddenly sweep by and then the lulling growling sound would begin again ever the same for hours together Marie gently took hold of Pierre's hands he and she were so lost so completely alone among all those prostrated beings in the deep rumbling peacefulness of the train flying across the black night and sadness the sadness which she had hitherto hidden had again come back to her casting a shadow over her large blue eyes you will often come with us my good Pierre, won't you? she asked he had started on feeling her little hand pressing his own his heart was on his lips he was making up his mind to speak however he once again restrained himself and stammered I'm not always at liberty Marie a priest cannot go everywhere he repeated yes, yes, a priest, I understand then it was she who spoke who confessed the mortal secret which had been oppressing her heart ever since they had started she lent nearer and in a lower voice resumed listen my good Pierre, I am fearfully sad I may look pleased but there is death in my soul you did not tell me the truth yesterday he became quite scared but did not at first understand her I did not tell you the truth about what he asked a kind of shame restrained her and she again hesitated at the moment of descending into the depths of another conscience than her own then like a friend, a sister she continued no, you let me believe that you had been saved with me and it was not true Pierre you have not found your lost faith again good Lord, she knew for him this was desolation such a catastrophe that he forgot his torments and at first he obstinately clung to the falsehood born of his fraternal charity but I assure you Marie how can you have formed such a wicked idea oh, be quiet my friend for pity's sake it would grieve me too deeply if you were to speak to me falsely again it was yonder at the station at the moment when we were starting and that unhappy man had died Guidabé Judaine had knelt down to pray for the repose of that rebellious soul and I divined everything I understood everything when I saw that you did not kneel as well that Pierre did not rise to your lips as to his but really I assure you Marie oh no you did not pray for the dead you no longer believe and besides there is something else something I can guess something which comes to me from you a despair which you can't hide from me a melancholy look which comes into your poor eyes directly they meet mine the Blessed Virgin did not grant my prayer she did not restore your faith and I am very very wretched she was weeping a hot tear fell upon the priest's hand which she was still holding it quite upset him and he ceased struggling confessing in his turn letting his tears flow whilst in a very low voice he stammered ah Marie I am very wretched also oh so very wretched for a moment they remained silent in their cruel grief at feeling that the abyss which parts different beliefs was yawning between them they would never belong to one another again and they were in despair at being so utterly unable to bring themselves nearer to one another but the severance was henceforth definitive since heaven itself had been unable to reconnect the bond and thus side by side they wept over their separation I who prayed so fervently for your conversion she said in a dolerous voice I who was so happy it had seemed to me that your soul was mingling with mine and it was so delightful to have been saved together together I felt such strength for life or strength enough to raise the world he did not answer his tears were still flowing flowing without end and to think she resumed that I was saved all alone that this great happiness fell upon me without you having any share in it and to see you so forsaken so desolate when I am loaded with grace and joy rends my heart ah how severe the blessed virgin has been why did she not heal your soul at the same time as she healed my body the last opportunity was presenting itself he ought to have illumined this innocent creature's mind with the light of reason have explained the miracle to her in order that life after accomplishing its healthful work in her body might complete its triumph by throwing them into one another's arms he also was healed his mind was healthy now and it was not for the loss of faith but for the loss of herself that he was weeping however invincible compassion was taking possession of him amidst all his grief no, no, he would not trouble that dear soul he would not rob her of her belief which someday might prove her only stay amidst the sorrows of this world one cannot yet require of children and women the bitter heroism of reason he had not the strength to do it he even thought that he had not the right it would have seemed to him violation, abominable murder and he did not speak out but his tears flowed hotter and hotter in this immolation of his love this despairing sacrifice of his own happiness in order that she might remain candid and ignorant and gay at heart oh Marie, how wretched I am nowhere on the roads, nowhere at the galleys even is there a man more wretched than myself oh Marie, if you only knew if you only knew how wretched I am she was distracted and caught him in her trembling arms wishing to console him with a sisterly embrace and at that moment women awaking within her understood everything and she herself sobbed with sorrow that both human and divine will should thus part them she had never yet reflected on such things but suddenly she caught a glimpse of life with its passions, its struggles and its sufferings and then seeking for what she might say to soothe in some degree that broken heart she stammered very faintly distressed that she could find nothing sweet enough I know, I know then the words it was needful she should speak came to her and as though that which she had to say ought only to be heard by the angels she became anxious and looked around her but the slumber which reigned in the carriage seemed more heavy even than before her father was still sleeping with the innocent look of a big child not one of the pilgrims, not one of the ailing ones had stirred amidst the rough rocking which bore them onward even Sister Yersaint giving way to the overpowering weariness had just closed her eyes after drawing the lamp screen in her own compartment and now there were only vague shadows there ill-defined bodies amidst nameless things ghostly forms scarce visible which at tempest-blast a furious rush was carrying on and on through the darkness and she likewise distrusted that black countryside whose unknown depths went by on either side of the train without one even being able to tell what forests, what rivers, what hills one was crossing a short time back some bright sparks of light had appeared possibly the lights of some distant forges or the woeful lamps of workers or sufferers now however the night again streamed deeply all round the obscure infinite nameless sea farther and farther through which they ever went not knowing where they were then with a chaste confusion blushing amidst her tears Marie placed her lips near Pierre's ears listen my friend there is a great secret between the Blessed Virgin and myself I had sworn that I would never tell it to anybody but you were too unhappy you were suffering too bitterly she will forgive me I will confide it to you and in a faint breath she went on during that night of love you know the night of burning ecstasy which I spent before the grotto I engaged myself by a vow I promised the Blessed Virgin the gift of my chastity if she would but heal me she has healed me and never you hear me Pierre never will I marry anybody what unhoped for sweetness he thought that a barmy dew was falling on his poor wounded heart it was a divine enchantment a delicious relief if she belonged to none other she would always be a little bit his own and how well she had known his torment and what it was needful she should say in order that life might yet be possible for him in his turn he wished to find happy words and promised that he also would ever be hers ever love her as he had loved her since childhood like the dear creature she was one kiss long long ago had sufficed to perfume his entire life but she made him stop already anxious fearing to spoil that pure moment no no my friend she murmured let us say nothing more it would be wrong perhaps I am very weary I shall sleep quietly now and with her head against his shoulder she fell asleep at once like a sister who is all confidence he for a moment kept himself awake in that painful happiness of renunciation which they had just tasted together it was all over quite over now the sacrifice was consummated he would live a solitary life apart from the life of other men never would he know woman never would any child be born to him and there remained to him only the consoling pride of that accepted and desired suicide with the desolate grandeur that attaches to lives which are beyond the pale of nature but fatigue overpowered him also his eyes closed and in his turn he fell asleep and afterwards his head slipped down and his cheek touched the cheek of his dear friend who was sleeping very gently with her brow against his shoulder then their hair mingled she had her golden hair her royal hair half unbound and it streamed over his face and he dreamed amidst its perfume doubtless the same blissful dream fell upon them both for their loving faces assumed the same expression of rapture they both seemed to be smiling to the angels it was chaste and passionate abandon the innocence of chance slumber placing them in one another's arms with warm close lips so that their breath mingled like the breath of two babes lying in the same cradle and such was their bridal night the consummation of the spiritual marriage in which they were to live a delicious annihilation born of extreme fatigue with scarcely a fleeting dream of mystical possession amidst this carriage of wretchedness and suffering which still and ever rolled along through the dense night hours and hours slipped by the wheels growled by the dust and baskets swung from the brass hooks whilst from the piled up crushed bodies there only arose a sense of terrible fatigue the great physical exhaustion brought back from the land of miracles when the overworked souls returned home at last at five o'clock whilst the sun was rising there was a sudden awakening a resounding entry into a large station with porters calling doors opening and people scrambling together they were at Poitiers and at once the whole carriage was on foot with all the exclamations little Sophie Coutois lighted here and was bidding everybody farewell she embraced all the ladies even passing over the partition to take leave of sister Claire Desange whom nobody had seen since the previous evening for silent and sleight of build with eyes full of mystery she had vanished into her corner then the child came back again took her little parcel and showed herself particularly amiable towards sister Yia Sant and Madame de Junkière Au revoir sister Madame, I thank you for all your kindness you must come back again next year my child oh I shan't fail sister it's my duty and be good my dear child and take care of your health so that the blessed virgin may be proud of you to be sure Madame she was so good to me and it amuses me so much to go to see her when she was on the platform all the pilgrims in the carriage leaned out and with happy faces watched her go off till next year they called to her till next year yes yes thank you kindly till next year the morning prayer was only to be said at Charter Le Roux after the stoppage at Poitiers when the train was once more rolling on in the fresh breeze of morning Monsieur de Gersaint gaily declared that he had slept delightfully in spite of the hardness of the seat Madame de Junkière also congratulated herself on the good rest which she had had and of which she had been in so much need though at the same time she was somewhat annoyed at having left sister Yia Sant all alone to watch over la grivote suffering with intense fever again attacked by her horrible cough meanwhile the other female pilgrims were tidying themselves the ten women at the far end of the carriage were fastening their fissues and tying their cap strings with a kind of modest nervousness displayed on their mournfully ugly faces and Elise Rouquet all attention with her face close to her pocket glass did not cease examining her nose mouth and cheeks admiring herself with the thought that she was really looking and it was then that Pierre and Marie again experienced a feeling of deep compassion on glancing at Madame Vincent whom nothing had been able to rouse from a state of torpor neither the tumultuous stoppage at Poitiers nor the noise of voices which had continued ever since they had started off again prostrate on the seat she had not opened her eyes but still and ever slumbered tortured by atrocious streams and with big tears still streaming from her closed eyes she had caught hold of the pillow which had been forced upon her and was closely pressing it to her breast in some nightmare born of her suffering her poor arms which had so long carried her dying daughter her arms now unoccupied forever empty had found this cushion whilst she slept and had coiled around them as a round of phantom with a blind and frantic embrace on the other hand Monsieur Sabatier had woke up feeling quite joyous whilst his wife was pulling up his rug carefully wrapping it round his lifeless legs he began to chat with sparkling eyes once more basking in illusion he had dreamt of Lourdes, said he and had seen the blessed virgin leaning towards him with a smile of kindly promise and then although he had before him both Madame Vincent that mother whose daughter the virgin had allowed to die and La Grévoit the wretched woman whom she had healed and who had so cruelly relapsed into her mortal disease he nevertheless rejoiced and made merry repeating to Monsieur de Guelsin his conviction oh, I shall return home quite easy in mind Monsieur, I shall be cured next year yes, yes, as that dear little girl said just now, till next year till next year it was indestructible illusion victorious even over certainty eternal hope determined not to die but shooting up with more life than ever after each defeat upon the ruins of everything a shut little raw sister Ia Saint made them say the morning prayer the pata, the ave, the credo and an appeal to God begging him for the happiness of a glorious day oh God grant me sufficient strength that I may avoid all that is evil do all that is good and suffer without complaint every pain end of section 24 section 25 of Lourdes this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please contact LibriVox.org Lourdes by Emile Zola translated by Ernest Visitelli the fifth day five the death of Bernadette the new religion and the journey continued the train rolled still rolled along at Saint Moor the prayers of the Mass were said and at Saint Pierre Decor the credo was chanted however the religious exercises no longer proved so welcome Pilgrim's zeal was flagging somewhat in the increasing fatigue of this return journey after such prolonged mental excitement it occurred to Sister Yia Saint that the happiest way of entertaining these poor worn out folks would be for someone to read aloud and she promised that she would allow M. Labé to read them the finish of Bernadette's life some of the marvellous episodes of which he had already on two occasions related to them however they must wait until they arrived at Les Obrés there would be nearly two hours between Les Obrés and les Temps ample time to finish the story without being disturbed then the various religious exercises followed one after the other in a monotonous repetition of the order which had been observed whilst they crossed the same plains on their way to Lourdes they again began the rosary at Amboise where they said the first chaplet the five joyful mysteries then after singing the catechal Oh loving mother bless at Blois they recited the second chaplet the five sorrowful mysteries at Bourgen-Si some little fleecy clouds had veiled the sun since morning and the landscapes very sweet and somewhat sad flew by with a continuous fan-like motion the trees and houses on either side of the line disappeared in the grey light with the fleetness of vague visions whilst the distant hills enveloped in mist vanished more slowly with the gentle rise and fall of a swelling sea between Bourgen-Si and Les Obrés the train seemed to slacken speed though it still kept up the rhythmical persistent rumbling of its wheels which the deaf and pilgrims no longer even heard at length when Les Obrés had been left behind they began to lunch in the carriage it was then a quarter to twelve and when they had said the Angelus and the three Aves had been thrice-repeated Pierre took from Marie's bag the little book whose blue cover was ornamented with an artless picture of Our Lady of Lourdes Sister Ia Saint clapped her hands as a signal for silence and amidst the wakefulness of one and all the ardent curiosity of those big children who were so impassioned by the marvellous story the priest was able to begin reading in his fine penetrating voice now came the narrative of Bernadette's sojourn at Nevers and then her death there Pierre however as on the two previous occasions soon ceased following the exact text of the little book and added charming anecdotes of his own both what he knew and what he could divine and for himself alone he again evolved to the true story the human pitiful story that which none had ever told and which he felt so deeply it was on the 8th of July 1866 that Bernadette left Lourdes she went to take the veil at Nevers in the convent of Saint-Gildard the chief habitation of the sisters on duty at the asylum where she had learnt to read and had been living for eight years she was then twenty-two years of age and it was eight years since the blessed virgin had appeared to her and her farewells to the grotto to the basilica to the whole town which she loved were watered with tears but she could no longer remain there owing to the continuous persecution of public curiosity the visits the homage and the adoration page to her from which on account of her delicate health she suffered cruelly her sincere humility her timid love of shade and silence had at last produced in her an ardent desire to disappear to hide her resounding glory to the one whom heaven had chosen and whom the world would not leave in peace in the depth of some unknown darkness and she longed only for simple mindedness for a quiet humdrum life devoted to prayer and petty daily occupations her departure was therefore a relief both to her and to the grotto which she was beginning to embarrass with her excessive innocence and burdensome complaints at Nevers Saint-Gildard ought to have proved a paradise she there found fresh air spacious apartments and an extensive garden planted with fine trees yet she did not enjoy peace that utter forgetfulness of the world for which one flees to the faraway desert scarcely twenty days after her arrival she donned the garb of the order and assumed the name of Sister Marie Bernard for the time being simply engaging herself by partial vows however the world still flocked around her the persecution of the multitude began afresh she was pursued even into the cloister through an irresistible desire to obtain favours from her saintly person to see her touch her, become lucky by gazing on her or surreptitiously rubbing some meddle against her dress it was the credulous passion of fetishism a rush of believers pursuing this poor beatified being in the desire of which each felt to secure a share of hope and divine illusion she wept at it with very weariness with impatient revolt and often repeated why did they torment me like this what more is there in me than in others and at last she felt real grief at thus becoming the rary show as she ended by terming herself with a sad suffering smile she defended herself as far as she could refusing to see anyone her companions defended her also and sometimes very sternly showing her only to such visitors as were authorised by the bishop the doors of the convent remained closed and ecclesiastics almost alone succeeded in effecting an entrance still even this was too much for her desire for solitude and she often had to be obstinate to request that the priests who had called might be sent away weary as she was of always telling the same story of ever answering the same questions she was incensed, wounded on behalf of the Blessed Virgin herself still she sometimes had to yield for the bishop in person would bring great personages, dignitaries and prelates and she would then appear with her grave air answering politely and as briefly as possible only feeling at ease when she was allowed to return to her shadowy corner never indeed had distinction weighed more heavily on a mortal one day when she was asked if she was not proud of the continual visits paid her by the bishop she answered simply Monseigneur does not come to see me he comes to show me on another occasion some princes of the church great militant Catholics who wished to see her were overcome with emotion and sobbed before her but in her horror of being shown in the vexation they caused her simple mind she left them without comprehending merely feeling very weary and very sad at length however she grew accustomed to Saint-Gildard and spent a peaceful existence there engaged in avocations of which she became very fond she was so delicate so frequently ill that she was employed in the infirmary in addition to the little assistance she rendered there she worked with her needle with which she became rather skillful embroidering albs and altercloths in a delicate manner but at times she would lose all strength and be unable to do even this light work when she was not confined to her bed she spent long days in an easy chair her only diversion being to recite her rosary or to read some pious work now that she had learnt to read books interested her especially the beautiful stories of conversion the delightful legends in which saints of both sexes appear and the splendid and terrible dramas in which the devil is baffled and cast back into hell but her great favourite the book at which she continually marvelled was the Bible, that wonderful new testament of whose perpetual miracle she never wearied she remembered the Bible at Boutres that old book which had been in the family a hundred years and whose pages had turned yellow she could again see her foster father slip a pin between the leaves to open the book at random and then read aloud from the top of the right hand page and even at that time she had already known those beautiful stories so well she continued repeating the narrative by heart whatever might be the passage at which the perusal had ceased and now that she read the book herself she found in it a constant source of surprise an ever increasing delight the story of the passion particularly upset her as though it was some extraordinary tragic event that had happened only the day before she sobbed with pity it made her poor suffering body quiver for hours mingled with her tears perhaps there was the unconscious delure of her own passion the desolate Calvary which she also had been ascending ever since her childhood when Bernadette was well and able to perform her duties in the infirmary she bustled about filling the building with her childish liveliness until her death she remained an innocent infantile being fond of laughing, romping and play she was very little the smallest sister of the community so that her companions always treated her somewhat like a child her face grew long and hollow and lost its bloom of youth but she retained the pure divine brightness of her eyes the beautiful eyes of a visionary in which, as in a limpid sky you detected the flight of her dreams as she grew older and her sufferings increased she became somewhat sour-tempered and violent, cross-grained, anxious and at times rough little imperfections which after each attack filled her with remorse she would humble herself think herself damned and beg pardon of everyone but more frequently what a good little daughter of Providence she was she became lively, alert, quick at repartee full of mirth-provoking remarks with a grace quite her own which made her beloved in spite of her great devotion although she spent days in prayer she was not at all bigoted or over-exacting with regard to others but tolerant and compassionate in fact, no-none was ever so much a woman with distinct features a decided personality charming even in its plurality and this gift of childishness which she had retained the simple innocence of the child she still was also made children love her as though they recognized in her one of themselves they all ran to her, jumped upon her lap and passed their tiny arms round her neck and the garden would then fill with the noise of joyous games races and cries and it was not she who ran or cried the least so happy was she at once more feeling herself a poor, unknown little girl as in the faraway days of Bartres later on it was related that a mother had one day brought her paralyzed child to the convent for the saint to touch and cure it the woman sobbed so much that the superior ended by consenting to make the attempt however as Bernadette indignantly protested whenever she was asked to perform a miracle she was not forewarned but simply called to take the sick child for the infirmary and she did so and when she stood the child on the ground it walked it was cured ah, how many times must Bartres and her free childhood spent watching her lambs the years passed among the hills in the long grass in the leafy woods have returned to her during the hours she gave to her dreams when weary of praying for sinners no one then fathomed her soul no one could say if involuntary regrets did not rend her wounded heart one day she spoke some words which her historians have preserved with the view of making her passion more touching close to far away from her mountains confined to a bed of sickness she exclaimed it seems to me that I was made to live to be ever on the move and yet the Lord will have me remain motionless what a revelation full of a terrible testimony and immense sadness why should the Lord wish that dear being all grace and gaiety to remain motionless could she not have honoured him equally well by living the free healthy life that she had been born to live and would she not have done more to increase the world's happiness and her own if instead of praying for sinners her constant occupation she had given her love to the husband who might have been wedded to her and the children who might have been born to her she so gay and so active would on certain evenings become extremely depressed she turned gloomy and remained wrapped in herself as though overcome by excess of pain no doubt the cup was becoming too bitter the thought of her life's perpetual renunciation was killing her did Bernadette often think of Lord while she was at Saint-Gildard what knew she of the triumph of the grotto of the prodigies which were daily transforming that land of miracles these questions were never thoroughly elucidated though companions were forbidden to talk to her of such matters which remained enveloped in absolute continual silence she herself did not care to speak of them she kept silent with regard to the mysterious past and evinced no desire to know the present however triumphant it might be but all the same did not her heart in imagination fly away to the enchanted country of her childhood she believed her kith and kin where all her life ties had been formed where she had left the most extraordinary dream that ever human being dreamt surely she must have sometimes travelled the beautiful journey of memory she must have known the main features of the great events that had taken place at lord what she most dreaded was to go there herself and she always refused to do so knowing full well that she could not remain unrecognised and fearful of meeting the crowds whose adoration awaited her what glory would have been hers had she been headstrong, ambitious, domineering she would have returned to the holy spot of her visions, have worked miracles there have become a priestess, a female pope with the infallibility and sovereignty of one of the elect, a friend of the blessed virgin but the fathers never really feared this although express orders had been given to withdraw her from the world for her salvation's sake in reality they were easy for they knew her so gentle and so humble in her fear of becoming divine in her ignorance of the colossal machine which she had put in motion and the working of which would have made her recoil with a fright had she understood it no, no, that was no longer her land that place of crowds of violence and trafficking she would have suffered too much there she would have been out of her element bewildered, ashamed and so when pilgrims bound thither asked her with a smile, will you come with us she shivered slightly and then hastily replied oh, but how I should like to were I a little bird? her reverie alone was that little travelling bird with rapid flight and noiseless wings which continually went on pilgrimage to the grotto in her dreams indeed she must have continually lived at Lord though in the flesh she had not even gone there for either her fathers or her mother's funeral yet she loved her kin she was anxious to procure work for her relations who had remained poor and she had insisted on seeing her eldest brother who coming to Naveir to complain had been refused admission to the convent however he found her weary and resigned and she did not ask him a single question about new lord as though that rising town were no longer her own the year of the crowning of the virgin a priest whom she had deputed to pray for her before the grotto came back and told her of the never to be forgotten wonders of the ceremony the hundred thousand pilgrims who had flocked to it and the five and thirty bishops in golden vestments who had assembled in the resplendent basilica whilst listening she trembled with her customary little quiver of desire and anxiety and when the priest exclaimed ah if you had only seen that pomp she answered me I was much better here in my little corner in the infirmary they had robbed her of her glory her work shone forth resplendently amidst a continuous hozzana and she only tasted joy and forgetfulness in the gloom of the cloister where the opulent farmers of the grotto forgot her it was never the re-echoing solemnities that prompted her mysterious journeys the little bird of her soul only winged its lonesome flight to lord on days of solitude in the peaceful hours when no one could there disturb its diversions it was before the wild primitive grotto that she returned to kneel amongst the bushy eglentine as on the days when the garve was not walled in by a monumental key and it was the old town that she visited at twilight when the cool perfume de breezes came down the mountains the old painted and gilded semi-spanish church where she had made her first communion the old asylum so full of suffering where during eight years she had grown accustomed to solitude all that poor innocent old town whose every paving stone awoke old affections in her memories depth and did Bernadette ever extend the pilgrimage of her dreams as far as Bartres? probably at times when she sat in her invalid chair and let some pious book slip from her tired hands and closed her eyes Bartres did appear to her lighting up the darkness of her view the little antique romanesque church with sky blue nave and blood red altar screens stood there amidst the tombs of the narrow cemetery then she would find herself once more in the house of the lageuse in the large room on the left where the fire was burning and where in winter time such wonderful stories were told whilst the big clock gravely ticked the hours away at times the whole countryside spread out before her those without end giant chestnut trees beneath which you lost yourself deserted table lands whence you described the distant mountains the peak de midi and the peak de viscous soaring aloft as airy and as rose coloured as dreams in a paradise such as the legends have depicted and afterwards afterwards came her free childhood when she scampered off wither she listed in the open air her lonely dreamy thirteenth year when with all the joy of living she wandered through the immensity of nature and now too perhaps she again beheld herself roaming in the tall grass among the hawthorn bushes beside the streams on a warm sunny day in june did she not picture herself grown with a lover of her own age whom she would have loved with all the simplicity and affection of her heart ah, to be a child again to be free, unknown, happy once more to love her fresh and to love differently the vision must have passed confusedly before her a husband who worshipped her and gaily growing up around her the life that everybody led the joys and sorrows that her own parents had known and which her children would have had to know in their turn but little by little all vanished and she again found herself in her chair of suffering imprisoned between four cold walls with no other desire than a longing one for a speedy death since she had been denied a share of the poor common happiness of this world Bernadette's ailments increased each year it was in fact the commencement of her passion the passion of this new child messiah who had come to bring relief to the unhappy to announce to mankind the religion of divine justice and equality in the face of miracles which flouted the laws of impassable nature if she now rose it was only to drag herself from chair to chair for a few days at a time and then she would have a relapse and be again forced to take to her bed her sufferings became terrible her hereditary nervousness her asthma aggravated by cloister life had probably turned into thysis she coughed frightfully each fit rending her burning chest and leaving her half dead to complete her misery carries of the right kneecap superveined, annoying disease the shooting pains of which caused her to cry aloud her poor body to which dressings were continually being applied became one great sore which was irritated by the warmth of her bed by her prolonged sojourn between sheets whose friction ended by breaking her skin one and all pitied her those who beheld her martyrdom said that it was impossible to suffer more or with greater fortitude she tried some of the Lord water but it brought her no relief Lord, Almighty King why cure others and not cure her to save her soul then dost thou not save the souls of the others what an inexplicable selection how absurd that in the eternal evolution of worlds it should be necessary for this poor being to be tortured she sobbed and again and again said in order to keep up her courage heaven is at the end but how long is the end in coming there was ever the idea that suffering is the test that it is necessary to suffer upon earth if one would triumph elsewhere that suffering is indispensable, enviable and blessed but is this not blasphemous, O Lord hast thou not created youth and joy is it thy wish that thy creatures should enjoy neither the sun nor the smiling nature which thou hast created nor the human affections with which thou hast endowed their flesh she dreaded the feeling of revolt which maddened her at times and wished also to strengthen herself against the disease which made her grown and she crucified herself in thought extending her arms so as to form a cross and unite herself to Jesus her limbs against his limbs her mouth against his mouth streaming the while with blood like him and steeped like him in bitterness Jesus died in three days but a longer agony fell to her her redemption by pain who died to give others life when her bones ached with agony she would sometimes utter complaints but she reproached herself with them immediately oh how I suffer oh how I suffer but what happiness it is to bear this pain there can be no more frightful words words pregnant with a blacker pessimism happy to suffer, O Lord but why and to what unknown and senseless end where is the reason in this useless cruelty in this revolting glorification of suffering when from the whole of humanity there ascends but one desperate longing for health and happiness in the midst of her frightful sufferings however, Sister Marie Bernalve took the final vows on September 22, 1878 20 years had gone by since the blessed virgin had appeared to her visiting her as the angel had visited the virgin choosing her as the virgin had been chosen amongst the most lowly and the most candid that she might hide within her the secret of King Jesus such was the mystical explanation of that election of suffering, the raison d'etre of that being who was so harshly separated from her fellows, weighed down by disease transformed into the pitiful field of every human affliction she was the garden enclosed that brings such pleasure to the gaze of the spouse he had chosen her, then buried her in the death of her hidden life and even when the unhappy creature staggered beneath the weight of her cross her companions would say to her forget that the blessed virgin promised you that you should be happy, not in this world but in the next and with renewed strength and striking her forehead she would answer, forget no, no, it is here she only recovered temporary energy by means of this illusion of a paradise of glory into which she would enter escorted by seraphims to be forever and ever happy the three personal secrets which the blessed virgin had confided to her to arm her against evil beauty, felicity and immortality in heaven what monstrous dupery if there were only the darkness of the earth beyond the grave, if the blessed virgin of her dream were not there to meet her with the prodigious girdens she had promised but Bernadette had not a doubt she willingly undertook all the little commissions with which her companions naively entrusted her for heaven Sister Marie Bernard you'll say this you'll say that to the Almighty Sister Marie Bernard you'll kiss my brother if you meet him in paradise Sister Marie Bernard give me a little place beside you when I die and she obligingly answered each one have no fear, I will do it ah, all powerful illusion delicious repose, power ever reviving and consolatory and then came the last agony then came death on Friday, March 28, 1879 it was thought that she would not last the night she had a despairing longing for the tomb in order that she might suffer no more and thus she obstinately refused to receive extreme unction saying that twice already it had cured her she wished in short that God would let her die, for it was more than she could bear, it would have been unreasonable to require that she should suffer longer yet she ended by consenting to receive the sacraments and her last agony was thereby prolonged for nearly three weeks the priest who attended her frequently said, my daughter you must make the sacrifice of your life and one day quite out of patience she sharply answered him but father it is no sacrifice a terrible saying, that also for it implied disgust at being furious contempt for existence and an immediate ending of her humanity had she had the power to suppress herself by a gesture it is true that the poor girl had nothing to regret, that she had been compelled to banish everything from her life health, joy and love so that she might leave it as one casts off a soiled, worn, tattered garment and she was right, she condemned her useless, cruel life when she said my passion will finish only at my death it will not cease until I enter into eternity and this idea of her passion pursued her attaching her more closely to the cross with her divine master she had induced them to give her a large crucifix she pressed it vehemently against her poor maidenly breast, exclaiming that she would like to thrust it into her bosom and leave it there towards the end her strength completely and she could no longer grasp the crucifix with her trembling hands let it be tightly tied to me, she prayed that I may feel it until my last breath the redeemer upon that crucifix was the only spouse that she was destined to know, his bleeding kiss was to be the only one bestowed upon her womanhood, diverted from nature's course the nuns took cords passed them under her aching back and fastened the crucifix so roughly to her bosom that it did indeed penetrate it at last death took pity upon her on Easter Monday she was seized with a great fit of shivering hallucinations perturbed her she trembled with fright she beheld the devil jeering and prowling around her be off, be off Satan she gasped do not touch me, do not carry me away and amidst her delirium she related that the fiend had sought to throw himself upon her that she had felt his mouth scorching her with all the flames of hell pure in a soul without sin what for, oh lord and again I ask it, why this relentless suffering intends to the very last why this nightmare-like ending this death troubled by such frightful fancies after so beautiful a life of candor purity and innocence could she not fall asleep serenely in the peacefulness of her chaste soul but doubtless so long as breath remained in her body it was necessary to leave her the hatred and dread of life which is the devil and it was life which she cast out in the same way as she denied life when she reserved to the celestial bridegroom her tortured, crucified womanhood that dogma of the immaculate conception which her dream had come to strengthen was a blow dealt by the church to woman both wife and mother to decree that woman is only worthy of worship on condition that she be a virgin to imagine this virgin to be herself born without sin is not this an insult to nature the condemnation of life to womanhood whose true greatness consists in perpetuating life be off Satan let me die without fulfilling nature's law and she drove the sunshine from the room and the free air that entered by the window the air that was sweet with the scent of flowers laden with all the floating germs which transmit love throughout the whole vast world on the Wednesday after Easter April 16th the death agony commenced it is related that on the morning of that day one of Bernadette's companions and unattacked with a mortal illness and lying in the infirmary in an adjoining bed was suddenly healed upon drinking a glass of lured water but she the privileged one had drunk of it in vain God at last granted her the signal favour which she desired by sending her into the good sound sleep of the earth in which there is no more suffering she asked pardon of everyone her passion was consummated like the saviour she had the nails and the crown of thorns the scourged limbs the pierced side like him she raised her eyes to heaven extended her arms in the form of a cross and uttered a loud cry my God and like him she said towards three o'clock I thirst she moistened her lips in the glass then bowed her head and expired thus very glorious and very holy died to the visionary of lord Bernadette Soubirou sister Marie Bernal one of the sisters of charity of Navarre during three days her body remained exposed to view and vast crowds passed before it a whole people hastened to the convent an interminable procession of devotees hungering after hope who rubbed medals chaplets pictures and missiles against the dead woman's dress to obtain from her one more favour a fetish bringing happiness even in death her dream of solitude was denied her a mob of the wretched ones of this world rushed to the spot drinking in illusion around her coffin and it was noticed that her left eye the eye of which at the time of the apparitions had been nearest the blessed virgin remained obstinately open then her last miracle amazed the convent the body underwent no change but was interred on the third day still supple warm with red lips and a very white skin rejuvenated as it were and smelling sweet and today Bernadette Soubirou exiled from lord obscurely sleeps her last sleep at Saint-Gildard beneath a stone slab in a little chapel amidst the shade and silence of the old trees of the garden whilst yonder the grotto shines resplendently in all its triumph Pierre ceased speaking the beautiful marvellous story was ended and yet the whole carriage was still listening deeply impressed by that death at once so tragic and so touching compassionate tears fell from Marie's eyes while the others Elise Rouquet la grivote herself now calmer clasped their hands and prayed to her who was in heaven to intercede with the divinity to complete their cure. Monsieur Sabatier made a big sign of the cross and then ate a cake which his wife had bought him at Poitiers.  Madame de Jean-Claire after putting her head out of the window informed them that they were approaching a tomp and when they had left that station behind them sister Ea Sainte gave the signal and they recited the third chaplet of the rosary the five glorious mysteries the resurrection of our lord the ascension of our lord the mission of the Holy Ghost the assumption of the most blessed virgin and the crowning of the most blessed virgin and afterwards they sang the canticle or virgin in thy help I put my trust then Pierre fell into a deep reverie his glance had turned towards the now sunlit landscape the continual flight of which seemed to lull his thoughts the noise of the wheels was making him dizzy and he ended by no longer recognizing the familiar horizon of this vast suburban expanse with which he had once been acquainted. They still had to pass Bretigny and Juvizy and then in an hour and a half at the utmost they would at last be at Paris so the great journey was finished the inquiry which he had so much desired to make the experiment which he had attempted with so much passion were over he had wished to acquire certainty to study Bernadette's case on the spot and see if Grace would not come back to him in a lightning flash restoring him his faith and now he had settled the point Bernadette had dreamed through the continual torments of her flesh and he himself would never believe again and this forced itself upon his mind like a brutal fact the simple faith of the child who kneels and prays the faith of young people bowed down by an awe born of their ignorance was dead though thousands of pilgrims might each year go to lord the nations were no longer with them this attempt to bring about the resurrection of absolute faith the faith of dead and gone centuries without revolt or examination was fatally doomed to fail history never retraces its steps humanity cannot return to childhood times have too much changed too many new inspirations of so new harvests for the men of today to become once more like the men of olden time it was decisive lord was only an explainable accident whose reactionary violence was even a proof of the extreme agony in which belief under the antique form of Catholicism was struggling never again as in the cathedrals of the 12th century with the entire nation kneel like a docile flock in the hands of the master to blindly obstinately cling to the attempt to bring that to pass would mean to dash oneself against the impossible to rush perhaps towards great moral catastrophes and off his journey there already only remained to Pierre an immense feeling of compassion ah his heart was overflowing with pity his poor heart was returning rung by all that he had seen he recalled the words of worthy Abbey Juden and he had seen those thousands of unhappy beings praying weeping and imploring God to take pity on their suffering and he had wept with them and felt within himself like an open wound a sorrowful fraternal feeling for all their ailments he could not think of those poor people without burning with a desire to relieve them if the faith of the simple minded no longer sufficed if one ran the risk of going astray and wishing to turn back would it become necessary to close the grotto and preach other efforts other sufferings however his compassion revolted at that thought no no it would be a crime to snatch their dream of heaven from those poor creatures who suffered either in body and who only found relief in kneeling yonder amidst the splendor of tapers and the soothing repetition of hymns he had not taken the murderous course of underceiving Marie but had sacrificed himself in order to leave her the joy of her fancy the divine consolation of having been healed by the virgin where was the man hard enough cruel enough to prevent the lowly from believing to rob them of the consolation of the supernatural the hope that God troubled himself about them that he held a better life in his paradise in reserve for them all humanity was weeping desperate with anguish like some despairing invalid irrevocably condemned and whom only a miracle could save he felt mankind to be unhappy indeed and he shuddered with fraternal affection in the presence of such pitiable humility ignorance, poverty in its rags disease with its sores and evil odor all the lowly sufferers in hospital, convent and slums amidst vermin and dirt in a facility written on their faces an immense protest against health life and nature in the triumphal name of justice, equality and benevolence no, no it would never do to drive the wretched to despair Lord must be tolerated in the same way that you tolerate a falsehood which makes life possible and as he had already said in Bernadette's chamber she remained the martyr she it was who revealed to him the only religion which still filled his heart the religion of human suffering ah, to be good and kindly to alleviate all ills, to lull pain to sleep in a dream to lie even so that no one might suffer anymore the train passed at full speed through a village and Pierre vaguely caught sight of a church nestling amidst some large apple trees all the pilgrims in the carriage crossed themselves but he was now becoming uneasy struples were tinging his reverie with anxiety this religion of human suffering this redemption by pain is not this yet another lure a continual aggravation of pain and misery it is cowardly and dangerous to allow superstition to live to tolerate it and accept it is to revive the dark evil ages afresh it weakens and stupefies the sanctimoniousness bequeathed by heredity produces humiliated, timorous generations decadent and docile nations who are an easy prey to the powerful of the earth whole peoples are imposed upon robbed, devoured when they have devoted the whole effort of their will to the mere conquest of a future existence would it not therefore be better to boldly cure humanity at once by closing the miraculous grottos whether it goes to weep and thus restore to it the courage to live the real life even in the midst of tears and it was the same with prayer that incessant flood of prayer which ascended from lord the endless supplication in which he had been immersed and softened was it not after all but pure our lullaby of the judgment of one's energies it benumbed the will one's very being became dissolved in it and acquired disgust for life and action of what use could it be to will anything do anything when you totally resigned yourself to the caprices of an unknown almighty power and in another respect what a strange thing was this mad desire for prodigies this anxiety to drive the divinity to transgress the laws of nature established by himself in his infinite wisdom therein evidently lay peril and unreasonableness at the risk even of losing illusion that divine comforter only the habit of personal effort and the courage of truth should have been developed in man and especially in the child then a great brightness arose in Pierre's mind and dazzled him it was reason protesting against the glorification of the absurd and the deposition of common sense ah reason it was through her that he had suffered through her alone that he was happy but unlike his old Dr Chasseigne his one consuming longing was to satisfy reason ever more and more although it might cost him happiness to do so it was reason he now well understood it whose continual revolt at the grotto at the Basilica throughout entire Lourdes had prevented him from believing unlike his old friend that stricken old man who was afflicted with such dolorous senility who had fallen into second childhood since the shipwreck of his affections he had been unable to kill reason to create and annihilate himself reason remained his sovereign mistress and she it was who buoyed him up even amidst the obscurities and failures of science whenever he met with a thing which he could not understand it was she who whispered to him there is certainly a natural explanation which escapes me he repeated that there could be no healthy ideal outside the march towards the discovery of the unknown the slow victory of reason amidst all the wretchedness of body and mind the clashing of the twofold heredity which he had derived from his father all brain and his mother all faith he a priest found it possible to ravage his life in order that he might keep his vows he had acquired strength enough to master his flesh but he felt that his paternal heredity had now definitely gained the upper hand for henceforth the sacrifice of his reason had become an impossibility this he would not renounce and would not master no, no even human suffering the hallowed suffering of the poor ought not to prove an obstacle in joining the necessity of ignorance and folly reason before all in her alone lay salvation if at Lord whilst bathed in tears softened by the sight of so much affliction he had said that it was sufficient to weep and love he had made a dangerous mistake pity was but a convenient expedient one must live, one must act reason must combat suffering unless it be desired that the latter should last forever however, as the train rolled on and the landscape flew by a church once more appeared this time on the fringe of heaven some votive chapel perched upon a hill and surmounted by a lofty statue of the virgin and once more all the pilgrims made the sign of the cross and once more Pierre's reverie strayed a fresh stream of reflections bringing his anguish back to him what was this imperious need of the things beyond which tortured suffering humanity whence came it why should equality and justice be desired when they did not seem to exist in impassive nature man had set them in the unknown spheres of the mysterious in the supernatural realms of religious paradises and there contented his ardent thirst that unquenchable thirst for happiness had ever consumed him and would consume him always if the fathers of the grotto drove such a glorious trade it was simply because they made money out of what was divine that thirst for the divine which nothing had quenched through the long long ages seemed to have returned with increased violence at the close of our century of science Lord was a resounding and undeniable proof that man could never live without the dream of a sovereign divinity reestablishing equality and recreating happiness by dint of miracles when man has descended to the depths of life's misfortunes he returns to the divine illusion and the origin of all religions lies there man weak and bare lacks the strength to live his terrestrial misery the everlasting lie of a paradise today thought Pierre the experiment had been made it seemed that science alone could not suffice and that one would be obliged to leave a door open on the mysterious all at once in the depths of his deeply absorbed mind the words rang out a new religion the door which must be left open on the mysterious was indeed a new religion to subject mankind to brutal amputation, lop off its dream and forcibly deprive it of the marvellous which it needed to live as much as it needed bread would possibly kill it would it ever have the philosophical courage to take life as it is and live it for its own sake without any idea of future rewards and penalties it certainly seemed that centuries must elapse before the advent of a society wise enough to lead a life of rectitude without the moral control of some cultists and the consolation of superhuman equality and justice yes, a new religion the call burst forth resounded within Pierre's brain like the call of the nations the eager despairing desire of the modern soul the consolation and hope which Catholicism had brought to the world seemed exhausted after 1800 years full of so many tears, so much blood so much vain and barbarous agitation it was an illusion departing and it was at least necessary that the illusion should be changed if mankind had long ago darted for refuge into the Christian paradise it was because that paradise then opened before it like a fresh hope but now a new religion, a new hope a new paradise, yes, that was what the world thirsted for in the discomfort in which it was struggling and Father Foucaud, for his part fully felt such to be the case he had not meant to imply anything else when he had given reign to his anxiety in treating that the people of the great towns the dense mass of the humble which forms the nation might be brought to Lourdes 100,000, 200,000 pilgrims at Lourdes each year that was, after all, but a grain of sand it was the people, the whole people that was required but the people has forever deserted the churches it no longer puts any soul in the blessed virgins which it manufactures and nothing nowadays could restore its lost faith a catholic democracy yes, history would then begin afresh only were it possible to create a new Christian people would not the advent of a new saviour the mighty breath of a new messiah have been needed for such a task however the words still sounded still rang out in Pierre's mind with the growing clamour of peeling bells a new religion doubtless it must be a religion nearer to life, giving a larger place to the things of the world and taking the acquired truths into due account and above all it must be a religion which was not an appetite for death Bernadette living solely in order that she might die Dr. Chasseigne aspiring to the tumors to the only happiness for all that spiritualistic abandonment was so much continuous disorganisation of the will to live at bottom of it was hatred of life disgust with and cessation of action every religion it is true is but a promise of immortality an embellishment of the spheres beyond an enchanted garden to be entered on the morrow of death could a new religion ever place that garden of eternal happiness on earth where was the formula, the dogma that would satisfy the hopes of the mankind of today what belief could be sown to blossom forth in a harvest of strength and peace how could one ficken date the universal doubt so that it should give birth to a new faith and what sort of illusion what divine falsehood of any kind could be made to germinate in the contemporary world ravaged as it has been upon all sides broken up by a century of science at that moment without any apparent transition Pierre saw the face of his brother Guillaume arise in the troublous depths of his mind still he was not surprised some secret link must have brought that vision there how fond they had been of one another long ago and what a good brother that elder brother so upright and gentle had been henceforth alas the rupture was complete Pierre no longer saw Guillaume since the latter had cloistered himself in his chemical studies living like a savage in a little suburban house with a mistress and two big dogs then Pierre's reverie again diverged and he thought of that trial in which Guillaume had been mentioned like one suspected of having compromising friendships amongst the most violent revolution it was related to that the young man had after long researches discovered the formula of a terrible explosive one pound of which would suffice to blow up a cathedral and Pierre then thought of those anarchists who wished to renew and save the world by destroying it they were but dreamers horrible dreamers yet dreamers in the same way as those innocent pilgrims whom he had seen kneeling at the grotto in an enraptured flock if the anarchists if the extreme socialists demanded with violence the equality of wealth the sharing of all the enjoyments of the world the pilgrims on their side demanded with tears equality of health and an equitable sharing of moral and physical peace the latter relied on miracles the former appealed to brute force at bottom however it was but the same exasperated dream of fraternity and justice the eternal desire for happiness neither poor nor sick left but bliss for one and all and in fact had not the primitive Christians been killed and in fact had not the primitive Christians been terrible revolutionaries for the pagan world which they threatened and did indeed destroy they who were persecuted whom the others sought to exterminate are today inoffensive because they have become the past the frightful future is ever the man who dreams of a future society even as today it is the madmen so wildly bent on social renovation that he harbors the great black dream of purifying everything by the flame of conflagrations this seemed monstrous to Pierre yet who could tell there in perchance lay the rejuvenated world of tomorrow astray full of doubts he nevertheless in his horror of violence made common cause with old society now reduced to defend itself unable though he was to say whence would come the new messiah of gentleness in whose hands he would have liked to place poor ailing mankind a new religion yes a new religion but it is not easy to invent one and he knew not to what conclusion to come between the ancient faith which was dead and the young faith of tomorrow as yet unborn for his part in his desolation he was only sure of keeping his vow like an unbelieving priest watching over the belief of others chastely and honestly discharging his duties with the proud sadness that he had been unable to renounce his reason as he had renounced his flesh and for the rest he would wait however the train rolled on between large parks and the engine gave a prolonged whistle a joyful flourish which drew Pierre from his reflections the others were stirring, displaying emotion around him the train had just left Juvizy and Paris was at last near at hand within a short half hour's journey one and all were getting their things together the sabatiers were remaking their little parcels Elise Rouquet was giving a last glance at her mirror for a moment Madame de Genquière again became anxious concerning la grivote and decided that as the girl was in such a pitiful condition she would have her taken straight to a hospital on arriving whilst Marie endeavoured to rouse Madame Vincent from the top or in which she seemed determined to remain Monsieur de Gersin, who had been indulging in a little siesta, also had to be awakened and at last when Sister Ea Sainte had clapped her hands the whole carriage intonated the Tédéum the hymn of praise and thanksgiving Tédéum laudamos Tédominum confitemur the voices rose amidst a last burst of fervour all those glowing souls returned thanks to God for the beautiful journey the marvellous favours that he had already bestowed on them and would bestow on them yet again at last came the fortifications the two o'clock sun was slowly descending the vast pure heavens so serenely warm distant smoke a ruddy smoke was rising in light clouds above the immensity of Paris like the scattered flying breath of that toiling colossus it was Paris in her forge Paris with her passions, her battles her ever-growing thunder her ardent life ever engendering the life of tomorrow and the white train the woeful train of every misery and every dollar was returning into it all at full speed sounding in higher and higher strains the piercing flourishes of its whistle calls the 500 pilgrims the 300 patients were about to disappear in the vast city fall again upon the hard pavement of life after the prodigious stream in which they had just indulged until the day should come when their need of the consolation of a fresh dream would impel them to start once more on the everlasting pilgrimage to mystery and forgetfulness unhappy mankind poor ailing humanity hungering for illusion and in the weariness of this waning century distracted and sore from having too greedily acquired science it fancies itself abandoned by the physicians of both the mind and the body and in great danger of succumbing to incurable disease retraces its steps and asks the miracle of its cure of the mystical lord of a past forever dead yonder however Bernadette, the new messiah of suffering so touching in her human reality constitutes the terrible lesson the sacrifice cut off from the world the victim condemned to abandonment solitude and death smitten with the penalty of being neither woman nor wife nor mother because she beheld the blessed virgin End of section 25 End of Lord by Emil Zola translated by Honest Visitelli