 Section 18 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 Fourth Day. 3. Marie's Cure. It was good Abe Juden who was to carry the Blessed Sacrament in the four o'clock procession. Since the Blessed Virgin had cured him of a disease of the eyes, a miracle with which the Catholic press still resounded. He had become one of the glories of Lourdes, was given the first place and honoured with all sorts of attentions. At half past three he rose, wishing to leave the grotto, but the extraordinary concourse of people quite frightened him and he feared he would be late if he did not succeed in getting out of it. Fortunately help came to him in the person of Berthot. Monsieur le curerais explained to the superintendent of the bearers, don't attempt to pass out by way of the rosary, you would never arrive in time. The best course is to ascend by the winding paths and come, follow me, I will go before you. By means of his elbows he thereupon parted the dense throng and opened a path for the priest who overwhelmed him with thanks. You are too kind, it's my fault, I had forgotten myself. But good heavens, how shall we manage to pass with the procession presently? This procession was Berthot's remaining anxiety. Even on ordinary days it provoked wild excitement which forced him to take special measures. And what would now happen as it wended its way through this dense multitude of 30,000 persons consumed by such a fever of faith already on the verge of divine frenzy? Accordingly, in a sensible way he took advantage of this opportunity to give Abeshu then the best advice. Ah Monsieur le curerais, pray impress upon your colleagues of the clergy that they must not leave any space between their ranks. They should come on slowly, one close behind the other. And above all the banners should be firmly grasped so that they may not be overthrown. As for yourself Monsieur le curerais, see that the canopy bearers are strong, tighten the cloth around the monstants and don't be afraid to carry it in both hands with all your strength. A little frightened by this advice the priest went on expressing his thanks. Of course, of course, you are very good said he. Ah Monsieur, how much I am indebted to you for having helped me to escape from all those people. Then free at last he hastened towards the basilica by the narrow serpentine path which climbs the hill, while his companion again plunged into the mob to return to his post of inspection. At that same moment Pierre who was bringing Marie to the grotto in her little cart encountered on the other side, that of the Place du Rosaire, the impenetrable wall formed by the crowd. The servant at the hotel had awakened him at three o'clock so that he might go and fetch the young girl at the hospital. There seemed to be no hurry. They apparently had plenty of time to reach the grotto before the procession. However that immense throng, that resisting living wall through which he did not know how to break began to cause him some uneasiness. He would never succeed in passing with the little car if the people did not evince some obligingness. Come ladies, come, he repeated, I beg of you, you see it's for a patient. The ladies hypnotized as they were by the spectacle of the grotto sparkling in the distance and standing on tiptoe so as to lose nothing of the sight did not move however. Besides the clamour of the litanies was so loud at this moment that they did not even hear the young priests and treaties. Then Pierre began again. Pray stand on one side, gentlemen, allow me to pass, a little room for a sick person. Come, please, listen to what I'm saying. But the men beside themselves in a blind deaf rapture would stir no more than the women. Marie, moreover, smiled serenely as if ignorant of the impediments and convinced that nothing in the world could prevent her from going to her cure. However, when Pierre had found an aperture and begun to work his way through the moving mass the situation became more serious. From all parts the swelling human waves beat against the frail chariot and at times threatened to submerge it. At each step it became necessary to stop, wait and again entreat the people. Pierre had never before felt such an anxious sensation in a crowd. True, it was not a threatening mob, it was as innocent as a flock of sheep. But he found a troubling thrill in its midst, a peculiar atmosphere that upset him. And in spite of his affection for the humble, the ugliness of the features around him the common sweating faces, the evil breath and the old clothes smelling of poverty made him suffer even to nausea. Now, ladies, now, gentlemen, it's for a patient, he repeated. A little room, I beg of you. Buffeted about in this vast ocean the little vehicle continued to advance by fits and starts taking long minutes to get over a few yards of ground. At one moment you might have thought it swamped for no sign of it could be detected. Then, however, it reappeared near the piscinas. Tender sympathy had at length been awakened for this sick girl so wasted by suffering but still so beautiful. When people had been compelled to give way before the priests' stubborn pushing they turned round but did not dare to get angry for pity penetrated them at the sight of that thin, suffering face shining out amidst a halo of fair hair. Words of compassion and admiration were heard on all sides. Ah, the poor child, was it not cruel to be infirm at her age? Might the blessed virgin be merciful to her? Others, however, expressed surprise, struck as they were by the ecstasy in which they saw her with her clear eyes open to the spheres beyond where she had placed her hope. She beheld heaven, she would assuredly be cured. And thus the little car left as it were a feeling of wonder and fraternal charity behind it as it made its way with so much difficulty through that human ocean. Pierre, however, was in despair and at the end of his strength when some of the stretcher-bearers came to his aid by forming a path for the passage of the procession a path which Berthot had ordered them to keep clear by means of cords which they were to hold at intervals of a couple of yards. From that moment the young priest was able to drag Marie along in a fairly easy manner and at last place her within the reserved space where he halted facing the grotto on the left side. You could no longer move in this reserved space where the crowd seemed to increase every minute. And quite exhausted by the painful journey he had just accomplished Pierre reflected what a prodigious concourse of people there was. It had seemed to him as if he were in the midst of an ocean whose waves he had heard heaving around him without a pause. Since leaving the hospital Marie had not opened her lips. He now realised, however, that she wished to speak to him and accordingly bent over her. And my father, she inquired, is he here? Hasn't he returned from his excursion? Pierre had to answer that Monsieur de Gelsain had not returned and that he had doubtless been delayed against his will and thereupon she merely added with a smile, ah, poor father, won't he be pleased when he finds me cured? Pierre looked at her with tender admiration. He did not remember having ever seen her looking so adorable since the slow wasting of sickness had begun. Her hair, which alone disease had respected, clothed her in gold. Her thin, delicate face had assumed a dreamy expression, her eyes wandering away to the haunting thought of her sufferings, her features motionless as if she had fallen asleep in a fixed thought until the expected shock of happiness should awaken her. She was absent from herself, ready, however, to return to consciousness whenever God might will it. And indeed this delicious infantile creature, this little girl of three and twenty, still a child as when an accident had struck her, delaying her growth, preventing her from becoming a woman, was at last ready to receive the visit of the angel, the miraculous shock which would draw her out of her torpor and set her upright once more. Her mourning ecstasy continued. She had clasped her hands and a leap of her whole being had ravished her from earth as soon as she had perceived the image of the Blessed Virgin Yonder. And now she prayed and offered herself divinely. It was an hour of great mental trouble for Pierre. He felt that the drama of his priestly life was about to be enacted and that if he did not recover faith in this crisis it would never return to him. And he was without bad thoughts, without resistance, hoping with fervour he also that they might both be healed. Oh, that he might be convinced by her cure, that he might believe like her that they might be saved together. He wished to pray ardently as she herself did. But in spite of himself he was preoccupied by the crowd, that limitless crowd among which he found it so difficult to drown himself, disappear, become nothing more than a leaf in the forest, lost amidst the rustle of all the leaves. He could not prevent himself from analysing and judging it. He knew that for four days past it had been undergoing all the training of suggestion. There had been the fever of the long journey, the excitement of the new landscapes, the days spent before the splendour of the grotto, the sleepless nights, and all the exasperating suffering, ravenous for illusion. Then again there had been the all-besetting prayers, those hymns, those litanies which agitated it without a pause. Another priest had followed Father Macias in the pulpit, whom Pierre heard hurling appeals to the Virgin and Jesus in a lashing voice which resounded like a whip. Father Macias and Father Furchard had remained at the foot of the pulpit and were now directing the cries of the crowd, whose lamentations rose in louder and louder tones beneath the limpid sunlight. The general exaltation had yet increased. It was the hour when the violence done to heaven at last produced the miracles. All at once a paralytic rose up and walked towards the grotto, holding his crutch in the air, and this crutch, waving like a flag above the swaying heads, wrung louder applause from the faithful. They were all on the lookout for prodigies. They awaited them with the certainty that they would take place, innumerable and wonderful. Some eyes seemed to behold them and feverish voices pointed them out. Another woman had been cured. Another. Yet another. A deaf person had heard. A mute had spoken. A consumptive had revived. What? A consumptive? Certainly. That was a daily occurrence. Surprise was no longer possible. You might have certified that an amputated leg was growing again without astonishing anyone. Miracle-working became the actual state of nature, the usual thing, quite commonplace. Such was its abundance. The most incredible story seemed quite simple to those overheated imaginations given what they expected from the Blessed Virgin. And you should have heard the tales that went about, the quiet affirmations, the expressions of absolute certainty which were exchanged whenever a delirious patient cried out that she was cured. Another. Yet another. However, a piteous voice would at times exclaim, ah, she's cured. That one. She's lucky. She is. Already at the verification office, Pierre had suffered from this credulity of the folk among whom he lived. But here it surpassed everything he could have imagined. And he was exasperated by the extravagant things he heard people say in such a placid fashion with the open smiles of children. Accordingly he tried to absorb himself in his thoughts and listened to nothing. Oh God, he prayed, grant that my reason may be annihilated, that I may no longer desire to understand, that I may accept the unreal and impossible. For a moment he thought the spirit of inquiry dead within him and allowed the cry of supplication to carry him away. Lord heal our sick. Lord heal our sick. He repeated this appeal with all his charity, clasped his hands, and gazed fixedly at the statue of the virgin until he became quite giddy and imagined that the figure moved. Why should he not return to a state of childhood like the others, since happiness lay in ignorance and falsehood? Contagion would surely end by acting. He would become nothing more than a grain of sand among innumerable other grains, one of the humblest among the humble ones under the millstone, thinking about the power that crushes them. But just at that second, when he hoped that he had killed the old man in him, that he had annihilated himself along with his will and intelligence, the stubborn work of thought, incessant and invincible, began afresh in the depths of his brain. Little by little, notwithstanding his efforts to the contrary, he returned to his inquiries, darted and sought the truth. What was the unknown force thrown off by this crowd, the vital fluid powerful enough to work the few cures that really occurred? There was here a phenomenon that no physiologist had yet studied, ought one to believe that a multitude became a single being, as it were, able to increase the power of auto-suggestion tenfold upon itself? Might one admit that, under certain circumstances of extreme exaltation, a multitude became an agent of sovereign will, compelling the obedience of matter? That would have explained how sudden cure fell at times upon the most sincerely excited of the throng. The breaths of all of them united in one breath, and the power that acted was a power of consolation, hope and life. This thought, the outcome of his human charity, filled Pierre with emotion. For another moment he was able to regain possession of himself and prayed for the cure of all, deeply touched by the belief that he himself might in some degree contribute towards the cure of Marie. But all at once, without knowing what transition of ideas led to it, a recollection returned to him of the medical consultation which he had insisted upon prior to the young girl's departure for Lord. The scene rose before him with extraordinary clearness and precision. He saw the room with its grey, blue-flowered wallpaper, and he heard the three doctors discuss and decide. The two who had given certificates diagnosticating paralysis of the marrow spoke discreetly, slowly, like esteemed, well-known, perfectly honourable practitioners. But Pierre still heard the warm, vivacious voice of his cousin Beauclair, the third doctor, a young man of vast and daring intelligence who was treated coldly by his colleagues as being of an adventurous turn of mind. And at this supreme moment Pierre was surprised to find in his memory things which he did not know were there. But it was only an instance of that singular phenomenon by which it sometimes happens that words scarce listened to, words but imperfectly heard, words stored away in the brain almost in spite of self, will awaken, burst forth, and imposed themselves on the mind after they have long been forgotten. And thus it now seemed to him that the very approach of the miracle was bringing him a vision of the conditions under which, according to Beauclair's predictions, the miracle would be accomplished. In vain did Pierre endeavour to drive away this recollection by praying with an increase of fervour. The scene again appeared to him and the old words rang out, filling his ears like a trumpet blast. He was now again in the dining room where Beauclair and he had shut themselves up after the departure of the two others and Beauclair recapitulated the history of the malady, the fall from a horse at the age of fourteen, the dislocation and displacement of the organ with doubtless a slight laceration of the ligaments, whence the weight which the sufferer had felt and the weakness of the legs leading to paralysis. Then a slow healing of the disorder, everything returning to its place of itself but without the pain of releasing. In fact this big, nervous child whose mind had been so grievously impressed by her accident was unable to forget it. Her attention remained fixed on the part where she suffered and she could not divert it so that even after cure her sufferings had continued. A neuropathic state. A consecutive nervous exhaustion, doubtless aggravated by accidents due to faulty nutrition as yet imperfectly understood. With the contrary and erroneous diagnoses of the numerous doctors who had attended her and who, as she would not submit to examination, had groped in the dark some believing in a tumor and the others, the more numerous, convinced of some lesion of the marrow. He alone, after inquiring into the girl's parentage, had just begun to suspect a simple state of auto-suggestion in which she had obstinately remained ever since the first violent shock of pain. And among the reasons which he gave were the contraction of her visual field, the fixity of her eyes, the absorbed, inattentive expression of her face, and above all the nature of the pain she felt, which, leaving the organ had borne to the left, where it continued in the form of a crushing, intolerable weight which sometimes rose to the breast in frightful fits of stifling. A sudden determination to throw off the false notion she had formed of her complaint, the will to rise, breathe freely, and suffer no more, could alone place her on her feet again, cured, transfigured, beneath the lash of some intense emotion. A last time did Pierre endeavour to see and hear no more, for he felt that the irreparable ruin of all belief in the miraculous was in him. And in spite of his efforts, in spite of the ardour with which he began to cry, Jesus, son of David, heal our sick, he still saw, he still heard Beau Claire telling him in his calm, smiling manner how the miracle would take place, like a burning flash, at the moment of extreme emotion, under the decisive circumstance which would complete the loosening of the muscles. The patient would rise and walk in a wild transport of joy, her legs would all at once be light again, relieved of the weight which had so long made them like lead, as though this weight had melted, fallen to the ground. But above all, the weight which bore upon the lower part of the trunk, which rose, ravaged the breast and strangled the throat would this time depart in a prodigious boring flight, a tempest-blast bearing all the evil away with it. And was it not thus that in the middle ages, possessed women had by the mouth cast up the devil, by whom their flesh had so long been tortured? And Beau Claire had added that Marie would at last become a woman, that in that moment of supreme joy she would cease to be a child, that although seemingly worn out by her prolonged dream of suffering, she would all at once be restored to resplendent health, with beaming face full of life. Pierre looked at her and his trouble increased still more on seeing her so wretched in her little cart, so distractedly imploring health, her whole being soaring towards our Lady of Lourdes who gave life. Ah, might she be saved at the cost even of his own damnation. But she was too ill. Science lied like faith. He could not believe that this child, whose limbs had been dead for so many years, would indeed return to life. And in the bewildered doubt into which he again relapsed, his bleeding heart clamoured yet more loudly, ever and ever repeating with the delirious crowd, Lord, Son of David, heal our sick! Lord, Son of David, heal our sick! At that moment a tumult arose agitating one and all. People shuddered, faces were turned and raised. It was the cross of the four o'clock procession, a little behind time that day, appearing from beneath one of the arches of the monumental gradient way. There was such applause and such violent instinctive pushing that Berthaud, waving his arms, commanded the bearers to thrust the crowd back by pulling strongly on the cords. Overpowered for a moment, the bearers had to throw themselves backward with sore hands. However, they ended by somewhat enlarging the reserved path along which the procession was then able to slowly wend its way. At the head came a superb beetle, all blue and gold, followed by the processional cross, a tall cross shining like a star. Then followed the delegations of the different pilgrimages with their banners, standards of velvet and satin embroidered with metal and bright silk adorned with painted figures and bearing the names of Thames, Versailles, Reims, Orléans, Poitiers and Toulouse. One which was quite white, magnificently rich, displayed in red letters the inscription Association of Catholic Working Men's Clubs. Then came the clergy, two or three hundred priests in simple cassocks, about a hundred in surpluses and some fifty clothed in golden chasables, effulgent like stars. They all carried lighted candles and sang the Laudate Sion Salvatorum in full voices. And then the canopy appeared in royal pomp, a canopy of purple silk braided with gold and upheld by four ecclesiastics who, it could be seen, had been selected from among the most robust. Beneath it, between two other priests who assisted him, was Abbey Juden, vigorously clasping the blessed sacrament with both hands as Bertheux had recommended him to do. And the somewhat uneasy glances that he cast on the encroaching crowd right and left, showed how anxious he was that no injury should befall the heavy, divine monstrance, whose weight was already straining his wrists. When the slanting sun fell upon him in front, the monstrance itself looked like another sun. Choir Boys, meantime, were swinging sensors in the blinding glow which gave splendor to the entire procession. And finally, in the rear, there was a confused mass of pilgrims, a flock-like tramping of believers and sightseers all aflame, hurrying along and blocking the track with their ever-rolling waves. Father Massias had returned to the pulpit a moment previously and this time he had devised another pious exercise. After the burning cries of faith, hope and love that he threw forth, he all at once commanded absolute silence in order that one and all might with closed lips speak to God in secret for a few minutes. These sudden spells of silence falling upon the vast crowd, these minutes of mute prayer in which all souls unbosomed their secrets were deeply, wonderfully impressive. Their salinity became formidable. You heard desire, the immense desire for life, the flight on high. Then Father Massias invited the sick alone to speak, to implore God to grant them what they had asked of his almighty power. And in response came a pitiful lamentation, hundreds of tremulous, broken voices rising amidst a concert of sobs. Lord Jesus, if it please thee, thou canst cure me. Lord Jesus, take pity on thy child who is dying of love. Lord Jesus, grant that I may see, grant that I may hear, grant that I may walk. And all at once the shrill voice of a little girl light and vivacious as the notes of a flute rose above the universal sob, repeating in the distance, save the others, save the others, Lord Jesus. Tears streamed from every eye. These supplications upset all hearts through the hardest into the frenzy of charity into a sublime disorder which would have impelled them to open their breasts with both hands if by doing so they could have given their neighbours their health and youth. And then Father Masias, not letting this enthusiasm abate, resumed his cries and again lashed the delirious crowd with them. While Father Fulkard himself sobbed on one of the steps of the pulpit, raising his streaming face to heaven as though to command God to descend on earth. But the procession had arrived, the delegations, the priests had ranged themselves on the right and left, and when the canopy entered the space reserved to the sick in front of the grotto, when the sufferers perceived Jesus the host, the blessed sacrament shining like a sun in the hands of Abbey Juden it became impossible to direct the prayers, all voices mingled together and all will was born away by vertigo. The cries, calls and treaties broke, lapsing into groans. Human forms rose from pallets of suffering, trembling arms were stretched forth, clenched hands seemingly desired to clutch at the miracle on the way. Lord Jesus, save us for we perish. Lord Jesus, we worship thee. Heal us. Lord Jesus, thou art the Christ, the Son of the Living God. Heal us. Thrice did the despairing, exasperated voices give vent to the supreme lamentation in a clamour which rushed up to heaven, and the tears redoubled, flooding all the burning faces which desire transformed. At one moment the delirium became so great the instinctive leap towards the blessed sacrament seemed so irresistible that Berto placed the bearers who were there in a chain about it. This was the extreme protective manoeuvre, a hedge of bearers drawn up on either side of the canopy, each placing an arm firmly round his neighbour's neck so as to establish a sort of living wall. Not the smallest aperture was left in it, nothing whatever could pass. Still, these human barriers staggered under the pressure of the unfortunate creatures who hungered for life, who wished to touch, to kiss Jesus, and oscillating and recoiling the bearers were at last thrust against the canopy they were defending, and the canopy itself began swaying among the crowd, ever in danger of being swept away like some holy bark in peril of being wrecked. Then at the very climax of this holy frenzy the miracles began amidst supplications and sobs, as when the heavens opened during a storm and a thunderbolt falls on earth. A paralytic woman rose and cast aside her crutches. There was a piercing yell and another woman appeared erect on her mattress, wrapped in a white blanket as in a winding sheet, and people said it was a half dead consumptive who had thus been resuscitated. Then Grace fell upon two others in swift succession. A blind woman suddenly perceived the grotto in a flame. A dumb woman fell on both her knees, thanking the blessed virgin in a loud, clear voice, and all in a like way prostrated themselves at the feet of our Lady of Lord, distracted with joy and gratitude. But Pierre had not taken his eyes off Marie, and he was overcome with tender emotion at what he saw. The sufferer's eyes were still expressionless, but they had dilated, while her poor pale face with its heavy mask was contracted as if she was suffering frightfully. She did not speak in her despair. She undoubtedly thought that she was again in the clutches of her ailment. But all at once, when the blessed sacrament passed by, and she saw like monstrance sparkling in the sun, a sensation of dizziness came over her. She imagined herself struck by lightning. Her eyes caught fire from the glare which flashed upon her, and at last regained their flame of life, shining out like stars. And under the influence of a wave of blood her face became animated, suffused with colour, beaming with a smile of joy and health. And suddenly Pierre saw her rise, stand upright in her little car, staggering, and finding in her mind only these caressing words, oh my friend, oh my friend. He hurriedly drew near in order to support her, but she drove him backward with the gesture. She was regaining strength, looking so touching, so beautiful in the little black woollen gown and slippers which she always wore. Tall and slender, too, and crowned as with a halo of gold by her beautiful flaxen hair which was covered with a simple piece of lace. The whole of her virgin form was quivering as if some powerful fermentation had regenerated her. First of all it was her legs that were relieved of the chains that bound them, and then, while she felt the spirit of life, the life of woman, wife, and mother within her, there came a final agony, an enormous weight that rose to her very throat. Only this time it did not linger there, did not stifle her, but burst from her open mouth and flew away in a cry of sublime joy. I am cured. I am cured. Then there was an extraordinary sight. The blanket lay at her feet. She was triumphant. She had a superb glowing face, and her cry of cure had resounded with such rapturous delight that the entire crowd was distracted by it. She had become the sole point of interest. The others saw none but her, erect, grown, so radiant, and so divine. I am cured. I am cured. Pierre, at the violent shock his heart had received, had begun to weep. Indeed, tears glistened again in every eye. Amidst exclamations of gratitude and praise, frantic enthusiasm passed from one to another, throwing the thousands of pilgrims who pressed forward to see into a state of violent emotion. Applauses broke out, a fury of applause, whose thunder rolled from one to the other end of the valley. However, Father Foucaud began waving his arms, and Father Marseillais was at last able to make himself heard from the pulpit. God has visited us, my dear brothers, my dear sisters, said he, Magnificat anima mea dominum, my soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my Saviour. And then all the voices, the thousands of voices, began to sing the chant of adoration and gratitude. The procession found itself at a stand still. Abbey Judain had been able to reach the grotto with the hands, but he patiently remained there before giving the benediction. The canopy was awaiting him outside the railings, surrounded by priests in surpluses and chageables, all a glitter of white and gold in the rays of the setting sun. Marie, however, had knelt down, sobbing, and whilst the canticle lasted, a burning prayer of faith and love ascended from her whole being. But the crowd wanted to see her walk, delighted women called to her, a group surrounded her, and swept towards the verification office, so that the miracle might be proved true, as patent as the very light of the sun. Her box was forgotten, Pierre followed her, while she, stammering and hesitating, she, who for seven years had not used her legs, advanced with adorable awkwardness, the uneasy, charming gate of a little child making its first steps. And it was so affecting, so delicious, that the young priest thought of nothing but the immense happiness of seeing her thus return to her childhood. Ah, the dear friend of infancy, the dear tenderness of long ago, so she would at last be the beautiful and charming woman that she had promised to be as a young girl when, in the little garden at Noyee, she had looked so gay and pretty beneath the tall trees flecked with sunlight. The crowd continued to applaud her furiously, a huge wave of people accompanied her, and all remained awaiting her egress, swarming in a fever before the door, when she had entered the office, with a pier only was admitted with her. That particular afternoon there were few people at the verification office. The small square room with its hot wooden walls and rudimentary furniture, its rush-bottomed chairs, and its two tables of unequal height contained, apart from the usual staff, only some five or six doctors seated into silence. At the tables were the inspector of the piscinas and two young abeys making entries in the registers, and consulting the sets of documents. While Father Daljelez, at one end, wrote a paragraph for his newspaper. And as it happened, Dr Bonami was just then examining Elise Croquet, who for the third time had come to have the increasing secretization of her sore certified. Anyhow, gentlemen, exclaimed to the doctor, have you ever seen a lupus heel in this way so rapidly? I am aware that a new work has appeared on faith-healing in which it is stated that certain sores may have a nervous origin. Only that it is by no means proved in the case of lupus, and I defy a committee of doctors to assemble and explain Mademoiselle's cure by ordinary means. He paused, and turning towards Father Daljelez inquired, have you noted, Father, that the suppuration has completely disappeared and that the skin is resuming its natural colour? However, he did not wait for the reply, for just then Marie entered, followed by Pierre, and by her beaming radiance he immediately guessed what good fortune was falling him. She looked superb, admirably fitted to transport and convert the multitude. He therefore promptly dismissed Elise Rouquet, inquired the new arrival's name and asked one of the young priests to look for her papers. Then as she slightly staggered he wished to seat her in the armchair. Oh no! Oh no! she exclaimed. I am so happy to be able to use my legs. Pierre, with a glance, had sought for Dr. Chasseigne, whom he was sorry to see there. He remained on one side waiting while they rummaged in the untidy drawers, without being able to place their hands on the required papers. Let's see, repeated Dr. Bonamie. Marie de Gersin, Marie de Gersin. I have certainly seen that name before. At last Rabouin discovered the documents classified under a wrong letter and when the doctor had perused the two medical certificates he became quite enthusiastic. Here is something very interesting, gentlemen, I beg you to listen attentively. This young lady whom you see standing here was afflicted with a very serious lesion of the marrow and if one had the least doubt of it these two certificates would suffice to convince the most incredulous for they are signed by two doctors of the Paris faculty whose names are well known to us all. Then he passed the certificates to the doctors present who read them wagging their heads the while. It was beyond dispute the medical men who had drawn up these documents enjoyed the reputation of being honest and clever practitioners. Well, gentlemen, if the diagnosis is not disputed and it cannot be when a patient brings the documents of this value we will now see what change has taken place in the young lady's condition. However before questioning her he turned towards Pierre. Monsieur Labé said he, you came from Paris with Mademoiselle de Gersin I think did you converse with the doctors before your departure? The priest shuddered amidst all his great delight. I was present at the consultation Monsieur, he replied. And again the scene rose up before him. He once more saw the two doctors so serious and rational and he once more saw Boclerc smiling while his colleagues drew up their certificates which were identical. And was he, Pierre, to reduce these certificates to nothing reveal the other diagnosis the one that allowed of the cure being explained scientifically? The miracle had been predicted shattered beforehand. You will observe gentlemen now resume to talk to Bonami that the presence of the Abbey gives these proofs additional weight. However Mademoiselle will now tell us exactly what she felt. He had lent over father Darjele's shoulder to impress upon him that he must not forget to make Pierre play the part of a witness in the narrative. Monde Dieu, gentlemen, how can I tell you exclaimed Marie in a halting voice broken by her surging happiness. Since yesterday I had felt certain that I should be cured and yet a little while ago when the pins and needles seized me in the legs again I was afraid it might only be another attack. For an instant I doubted then the feeling stopped but it began again as soon as I recommended praying. Oh, I prayed, I prayed with all my soul I ended by surrendering myself like a child. Blessed Virgin, our Lady of Lord do with me as thou wilt, I said but the feeling did not cease. It seemed as if my blood were boiling a voice cried to me, rise, rise. And I felt that the miracle fall on me in a cracking of all my bones, of all my flesh as if I had been struck by lightning. Pierre, very pale, listened to her Boclair had positively told him that the cure would come like a lightning flash that under the influence of extreme excitement a sudden awakening of will so long somnolent would take place within her. It was my legs which the Holy Virgin first of all delivered, she continued I could well feel that the iron bands which bound them were gliding along my skin like broken chains then the weight which still suffocated me there in the left side began to ascend and I thought I was going to die it hurt me so but it passed my chest it passed my throat and I felt it there in my mouth and spat it out violently it was all over it no longer had any pain it had flown away she had made a gesture expressive of the motion of a night bird beating its wings and lapsing into silence stood smiling at Pierre who was bewildered Boclair had told him all that beforehand using almost the same words and the same imagery point by point his prognostics were realized there was nothing more in the case than natural phenomena which had been foreseen Rabouin however had followed Marie's narrative with dilated eyes and the passion of a pietist of limited intelligence ever haunted by the idea of hell it was the devil he cried it was the devil that she spat out Dr Bonamy who was more wary made him hold his tongue and turning towards the doctors he said gentlemen you know that we always avoid pronouncing the big word of miracle here only here is a fact and I am curious to know how any of you can explain it by natural means seven years ago this young lady was struck with serious paralysis evidently due to a lesion of the marrow and that cannot be denied the certificates are there irrefutable she could no longer walk she could no longer make a movement without a cry of pain she had reached that extreme state of exhaustion which precedes but by little an unfortunate issue all at once however here she rises walks, laughs and beams on us the paralysis has completely disappeared no pain remains she is as well as you and I come gentlemen approach examine her and tell me what has happened he triumphed not one of the doctors spoke two who were doubtless true Catholics had shown their approval of his speech by their vigorous nods while the others remained motionless with a constrained air not caring to mix themselves up in the business however a little thin man with his eyes shone behind the glasses he was wearing ended by rising to take a closer look at Marie he caught hold of her hand examined the pupils of her eyes and merely seemed preoccupied by the air of transfiguration which she wore then in a very courteous manner without even showing a desire to discuss the matter he came back and sat down again the case is beyond science that is all I can assume concluded Dr. Bonamie victoriously I will add that we have no convalescence here health is at once restored full entire observe the young lady her eyes are bright, her colour is rosy her physiognomy has recovered its lively gaiety without doubt the healing of the tissues will proceed somewhat slowly but one can already say that Mademoiselle has been born again is it not so Mr. Labille you who have seen her so frequently you no longer recognise her eh that's true that's true St. Pierre and in fact she already appeared strong to him her cheeks full and fresh gaily blooming but Bourclair had also foreseen this sudden joyful change this straightening and resplendency of her invalid frame when life should re-enter it with the will to be cured and be happy once again however had Dr. Bonamie lent over Father Darjelez who was finishing his note a brief but fairly complete account of the affair they exchanged a few words in low tones consulting together and the doctor ended by saying you have witnessed these marvels Mr. Labille so you will not refuse to sign the careful report which the reverent father has drawn up for publication in the Journal de la Grotte he, Pierre signed that page of error and falsehood a revolt roused him and he was on the point of shouting out the truth but he felt the weight of his cassock on his shoulders and above all Marie's divine joy filled his heart concentrated with deep happiness at seeing her saved since they had ceased questioning her she had come and lent on his arm and remained smiling at him with eyes full of enthusiasm oh my friend thank the blessed virgin she murmured in her low voice she has been so good to me I am now so well, so beautiful, so young and how pleased my father my poor father will be then Pierre signed everything was collapsing within him but it was enough that she should be saved he would have thought it sacrilegious to interfere with the faith of that child the great pure faith which had healed her when Marie reappeared outside the office the applause began afresh the crowd clapped their hands it now seemed that the miracle was official however certain charitable persons fearing that she might fatigue herself and again require her little car which she had abandoned before the Grotto had brought it to the office and when she found it there she felt deeply moved that box in which she had lived so many years that rolling coffin in which she had sometimes imagined herself buried alive how many tears how much despair how many bad days it had witnessed and all at once the idea occurred to her that as it had so long been linked with her sufferings it ought also to share her triumph it was a sudden inspiration a kind of holy folly that made her seize the handle at that moment the procession passed by returning from the Grotto where Abe Juden had pronounced the benediction and there upon Marie dragging the little car placed herself behind the canopy and in her slippers her head covered with a strip of lace her bosom heaving her face erect, glowing and superb she walked on behind the clergy dragging after her that car of misery that rolling coffin in which she had endured so much agony and the crowd which acclaimed her in her wake end of section 18 section 19 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 Visatelli the fourth day four triumph despair Pierre also had followed Marie and like her was behind the canopy carried along as it were by the blast of glory which made her drag her little car along in triumph every moment however there was so much tempestuous pushing that the young priest would assuredly have fallen if a rough hand had not upheld him don't be alarmed said a voice give me your arm otherwise you won't be able to remain on your feet Pierre turned round and was surprised to recognize father Masias who had left father full card in the pulpit in order to accompany the procession an extraordinary fever was sustaining him throwing him forward as solid as a rock with eyes glowing like live coals and an excited face covered with perspiration take care then he again exclaimed give me your arm a fresh human wave had almost swept them away and Pierre now yielded to the support of this terrible enthusiast whom he remembered as a fellow student at the seminary what a singular meeting it was and greatly he would have liked to possess that violent faith that mad faith which was making Masias pant with his throat full of sobs whilst he continued giving vent to the ardent entreaty Lord Jesus heal our sick Lord Jesus heal our sick there was no cessation of this cry behind the canopy where there was always a cryer whose duty it was to accord no respite to the slow clemency of heaven at times a thick voice full of anguish and at others a shrill and piercing voice would arise the father's which was an imperious one was now at last breaking through sheer emotion Lord Jesus heal our sick Lord Jesus heal our sick the rumour of Marie's wondrous cure of the miracle whose fame would speedily fill all Christendom had already spread from one end to the other of Lord and from this had come the increased vertigo of the multitude the attack of contagious delirium now caused it to whirl and rush towards the blessed sacrament like the resistless flux of a rising tide one and all yielded to the desire of beholding the sacrament and touching it of being cured and becoming happy the divinity was passing and now it was not merely a question of ailing beings glowing with a desire for life but a longing for happiness which consumed all present and raised them up with bleeding open hearts and eager hands Bertot who feared the excesses of this religious adoration had decided to accompany his men he commanded them carefully watching over the double chain of bearers beside the canopy in order that it might not be broken close your ranks closer closer he called and keep your arms firmly linked these young men chosen from among the most vigorous of the bearers had an extremely difficult duty to discharge the wall which they formed shoulder to shoulder with arms linked at the waist and the neck kept on giving way under the involuntary assaults of the throng nobody certainly fancied that he was pushing but there was constant eddying and deep waves of people rolled towards the procession from afar and threatened to submerge it when the canopy had reached the middle of the Place du Rosaire Abbe Juden really thought that he would be unable to go any farther numerous conflicting currents had set in over the vast expanse and wolf whirling assailing him from all sides he had to halt under the swaying canopy which shook like a sail in a sudden squall on the open sea he held the blessed sacrament aloft with his numbed hands each moment fearing that a final push would throw him over for he fully realized that the golden monstrance radiant like a sun was the one passion of all that multitude the divinity they demanded to kiss in order that they might lose themselves in it even though they should annihilate it in doing so accordingly while standing there the priest opened his eyes on Bertaud let nobody pass called the latter to the bearers nobody the orders are precise you hear me voices however were rising in supplication on all sides wretched beings were sobbing with arms outstretched and lips protruding in the wild desire that they might be allowed to approach and kneel at the priest's feet what divine grace it would be to be thrown upon the ground and trampled underfoot by the whole procession an infirm old man displayed his withered hand in the conviction that it would be made sound again where he only allowed to touch the monstrance a dumb woman wildly pushed her way through the throne with her broad shoulders in order that she might loosen her tongue by a kiss others were shouting imploring and even clenching their fists in their rage with those cruel men who denied cure to their bodily sufferings and their mental wretchedness the orders to keep them back were rigidly enforced however for the most serious accidents were feared nobody nobody repeated Bertrand let nobody whatever pass there was a woman there however who touched every heart with compassion clad in wretched garments bareheaded her face wet with tears she was holding in her arms a little boy of ten years old or so whose limp paralyzed legs hung down inertly the lads weight was too great for one so weak as herself still she did not seem to feel it she had brought the boy there and was now a bearer with an invincible obstinacy which neither words nor hustling could conquer at last as Abbey Juden who felt deeply moved beckoned to her to approach two of the bearers in deference to his compassion drew apart despite all the danger of opening a breach and the woman then rushed forward with her burden and fell in a heap before the priest for a moment he rested the foot of the monstrance on the child's head and the mother herself pressed her eager longing lips to it and as they started off again she wished to remain behind the canopy and followed the procession with streaming hair and panting breast staggering the while under the heavy burden which was fast exhausting her strength they managed with great difficulty to cross the remainder of the plus du rosaire and then the ascent began the glorious ascent by way of the monumental incline whilst upon high on the fringe of heaven the basilica reared its slim spire whence peeling bells were winging their flight sounding the triumphs of our Lady of Lourdes and now it was towards an apotheosis that the canopy slowly climbed towards the lofty portal of the high perched sanctuary which stood open face to face with the infinite high above the huge multitude whose waves continued soaring across the valleys squares and avenues preceding the processional cross the magnificent beetle all blue and silver was already nearing the level of the rosary cupola the spacious esplanade formed by the roof of the lower church across which the pilgrimage deputations began to wind with their bright coloured silk and velvet banners waving in the ruddy glow of the sunset then came the clergy the priests in snowy surpluses and the priests in golden chazibals likewise shining out like a procession of stars and the censors swung and the canopy continued climbing without anything of its bearers being seen so that it seemed as though a mysterious power some troop of invisible angels were carrying it off in this glorious ascent towards the open portal of heaven a sound of chanting had burst forth the voices in the procession no longer called for the healing of the sick now that the cortege had extricated itself from amidst the crowd the miracle had been worked and they were celebrating it with the full power of their lungs amidst the peeling of the bells and the quivering gaiety of the atmosphere Magnificat anima mea dominum they began my soul doth magnify the lord it was the song of gratitude it was the song of gratitude already chanted at the grotto and again springing from every heart et exultavit spiritus meus in deo salutari meo and my spirit hath rejoiced in god my saviour meantime it was with increasing overflowing joy that marie took part in that radiant ascent by the colossal gradient way towards the glowing basilica it seemed to her as she continued climbing that she was growing stronger and stronger that her legs so long lifeless became firmer at each step the little car which she victoriously dragged behind her was like the earthly tenement of her illness the inferno whence the blessed virgin had extricated her and although its handle was making her hands sore she nevertheless wished to pull it up yonder with her in order that she might cast it at last at the feet of the almighty no obstacle could stay her course she laughed through the big tears which were falling on her cheeks her bosom was swelling her demeanour becoming warlike one of her slippers had become unfastened and the strip of lace had fallen from her head to her shoulders nevertheless with her lovely fair hair crowning her like a helmet and her face beaming brightly she still marched on and on with such an awakening of will and strength that behind her you could hear her car leap and rattle over the rough slope of the flagstones as though it had been a mere toy near marie was pierre still leaning on the arm of father masias who had not relinquished his hold lost amidst the far spreading emotion the young priest was unable to reflect moreover his companion's sonorous voice quite deafened him de posuit potentes de cede de exaltavit humiles he hath put down the mighty from their seat and hath exalted the humble on pierre's other side the right, Berthot who no longer had any cause for anxiety was now also following the canopy he had given his bearers orders to break their chain and was gazing with an expression of delight on the human sea through which the procession had lately passed the higher they ascended the incline the more did the Place du Hoseur and the avenues and paths of the gardens expand below them black was the swarming multitude it was a bird's eye view of a whole nation an anthill which ever increased in size spreading farther and farther away look, Berthot at last exclaimed to pierre how vast and how beautiful it is ah well the year won't have been a bad one after all looking upon Lourdes as a centre of propaganda where his political ranker found satisfaction he always rejoiced when there was a numerous pilgrimage as in his mind it was bound to prove unpleasant to the government ah, thought he if they had only been able to bring the working classes of the towns dither and create a catholic democracy last year we scarcely reached the figure of 200,000 pilgrims he continued, but we shall exceed it this year I hope and then with the gay heir of the jolly fellow that he was despite his sectarian passions he added, well, upon my word I was really pleased just now when there was such a crush things are looking up, I think things are looking up pierre however was not listening to him his mind had been struck by the grandeur of the spectacle that multitude which spread out more and more as the procession rose higher and higher above it that magnificent valley which was hollowed out below and ever became more and more extensive displaying a far-off its gorgeous horizon of mountains filled him with quivering admiration his mental trouble was increased by it all and seeking Murray's glance he waved his arm to draw her attention to the vast circular expanse of country and his gesture deceived her for in the purely spiritual excitement that possessed her she did not behold the material spectacle he pointed at but thought that he was calling earth to witness the prodigious favours which the blessed virgin had heaped upon them both for she imagined that he had had his share of the miracle and that in the stroke of grace which had set her erect with her flesh healed he so near to her that their hearts mingled had felt himself enveloped and raised by the same divine power his soul saved from doubt conquered by faith once more how could he have witnessed her wondrous cure indeed without being convinced moreover she had prayed so fervently for him outside the grotto on the previous night and now therefore to her excessive delight she aspired him transfigured like herself weeping and laughing restored to God again and this lent increased force to her blissful fever she dragged her little car along with unwearying hands and as though it were their double cross her own redemption and her friend's redemption which she was carrying up that incline with its resounding flagstones she would have liked to drag it yet farther for leagues and leagues ever higher and higher to the most accessible summits to the transplant and threshold of paradise itself oh pierre pierre she stammered how sweet it is that this great happiness should have fallen on us together yes together I prayed for it so fervently and she granted my prayer and saved you even in saving me yes I felt your soul mingling with my own tell me that our mutual prayers have been granted tell me that I have won your salvation even as you have won mine he understood her mistake and shuddered if you only knew she continued how great would have been my grief had I thus ascended into light alone oh to be chosen without you to soar yonder without you but with you pierre it is rapturous to light we have been saved together we shall be happy forever I feel all needful strength for happiness yes strength enough to raise the world and in spite of everything he was obliged to answer her and lie vaulting at the idea of spoiling dimming that great and pure felicity yes yes be happy Marie he said for I am very happy myself and all our sufferings are redeemed but even while he spoke he felt a deep rending within him as though a brutal hatchet stroke were parting them forever amidst their common sufferings she had hitherto remained the little friend of childhood's days the first heartlessly loved woman who belonged to none but now she was cured and he remained alone in his hell repeating to himself that she would never more be his this sudden thought so upset him that he averted his eyes in despair at reaping such suffering from the prodigious felicity with which she exalted however the chant went on and Father Macias hearing nothing and seeing nothing absorbed as he was in his glowing gratitude to God shouted the final verse in a thundering voice as he spoke to our fathers to Abraham and to his seed forever yet another incline had to be climbed yet another effort had to be made up that rough aclivity with its large slippery flagstones and the procession rose yet higher and the ascent still went on in the full bright light they came a last turn and the wheels of Marie's car grated against a granite curb then still higher still and ever higher did it roll until it finally reached what seemed to be the very fringe of heaven and all at once the canopy appeared on the summit of the gigantic inclined ways on the stone balcony overlooking the stretch of country outside the portal of the Basilica Abbey Juden stepped forward holding the blessed sacrament aloft with both hands Marie who had pulled her car up the balcony steps was near him with her hair exertion her face all aglow amidst the gold of her loosened hair then all the clergy the snowy surpluses and the dazzling chasables ranged to themselves behind whilst the banners waved like bunting decking the white balustrades and a solemn minute followed from on high there could have been no grander spectacle first immediately below there was the multitude the human sea with its dark waves its heaving billows now for a moment stilled and it extinguished the small pale specks of the faces uplifted towards the Basilica in expectancy of the benediction and as far as the eye could reach from the Place du Rosal to the Gave along the paths and avenues and across the open spaces even to the old town in the distance those little pale faces multiplied and multiplied all with lips parted and eyes fixed upon the august threshold where heaven was about to open to their gaze then the vast amphitheater of slopes and hills and mountains surged aloft ascended upon all sides crests following crests until they faded away in the far blue atmosphere the numerous convents among the trees on the first of the northern slopes beyond the torrent, those of the Carmelites the Dominicans, the Assumptionists and the Sisters of Nevel were coloured by a rosy reflection from the fire-like glow of the sunset then wooded masses rose one above the other until they reached the heights of Le Bois-la the hills are mounted by the Cer de Julo in its turn capped by the Miramon deep valleys opened on the south narrow gorges between piles of gigantic rocks whose bases were already steeped in lakes of bluey shadow whilst the summits sparkled with the smiling farewell of the sun the hills of Vizan upon this side were impurpled and showed like a promontory of coral in front of the stagnant lake of the aether which was bright with a sapphire-like transparency but on the east in front of you the horizon again spread out to the very point of intersection of the seven valleys the castle which had formally guarded them still stood with its keep, its lofty walls its black outlines the outlines of a fierce fortress of feudal time upon the rock whose base was watered by the garve and upon this side of the stone-old pile was the new town, looking quite gay amidst its gardens with its swarm of white house fronts its large hotels, its lodging houses and shops whose windows were glowing like live embers whilst behind the castle the discoloured roofs of old lures spread out in confusion in a ruddy light which hovered over them like a cloud of dust at this late hour when the declining luminary was sinking in royal splendor behind the little ger and the big ger those two huge ridges of bare rock spotted with patches of short herbage formed nothing but a neutral somewhat violent background with two curtains of sober hue drawn across the margin of the horizon and higher and still higher in front of this immensity Didabes Juden with both hands raised the blessed sacrament he moved it slowly from one to the other horizon causing it to describe a huge sign of the cross against the vault of heaven he saluted the convence the heights of Lebuala the Serre de Julo and the Miramon upon his left he saluted the huge fallen rocks of the dim valleys and the purple hills of Vizan on his right he saluted the new and the old town the castle bathed by the garve the big and the little ger already drowsy in front of him and he saluted the woods, the torrents the mountains, the faint chains linking the distant peaks the whole earth even beyond the visible horizon peace upon earth opened a consolation to mankind the multitude below had quivered beneath that great sign of the cross which enveloped it the divine breath were passing rolling those billows of little pale faces which were as numerous as the waves of an ocean a loud murmur of adoration ascended all those parted lips proclaimed the glory of God when in the rays of the setting sun the illumined monstrants again shone forth like another sun a sun of pure gold describing the sign of the cross in streaks of flame upon the threshold of the infinite the banners, the clergy with Abbey Juden under the canopy of the Basilica when Marie, who was also entering it still dragging her car by the handle was stopped by two ladies who kissed her weeping they were Madame de Genquière and her daughter Remonde who had come thither to witness the benediction and had been told of the miracle ah, my dear child what happiness repeated the Lady Hospitale and how proud I am to have you in my ward it is so precious a favour for all of us that the Blessed Virgin should have been pleased to select you and, meanwhile, had kept one of the young girl's hands in her own will you allow me to call you my friend, Montmoiselle said she I felt so much pity for you and I am now so pleased to see you walking so strong and beautiful already let me kiss you again it will bring me happiness thank you, thank you with all my heart Marie stammered amidst her rapture I am so happy, so very happy oh, we will not leave you resumed Madame de Genquière and Nile beside her and we will take her back after the ceremony thereupon the two ladies joined the coltage and, following the canopy, walked beside Pierre and Father Massias between the rows of chairs which the deputations already occupied to the very centre of the choir the banners alone were allowed on either side of the high altar but Marie advanced to its steps still dragging her car whose wheels resounded over the flagstones she had at last brought it to the spot with the sacred madness of her desire had longingly impelled her to drag it she had brought it indeed woeful, wretched looking as it was into the splendour of God's house so that it might there testify to the truth of the miracle the threshold had scarcely been crossed when the organs burst into a hymn of triumph the sonorous acclamation of a happy people from amidst which there soon arose a celestial, angelic voice of joyful shrillness and crystalline purity Abbey Juden had placed the blessed sacrament upon the altar and the crowd was streaming into the nave each taking a seat installing him or herself in a corner pending the commencement of the ceremony Marie had at once fallen on her knees between Madame de Junquier and Raymond whose eyes were moist with tender emotion whilst Father Massias exhausted by the extraordinary tension of his nerves which had been sustaining him ever since his departure from the grotto had sunk upon the ground sobbing with his head between his hands behind him Pierre and Bertot remained standing the latter still busy with his superintendence his eyes ever on the watch seeing that good order was preserved even during the most violent outbursts of emotion then amidst all his mental confusion increased by the deafening strains of the organ Pierre raised his head and examined the interior of the basilica the nave was narrow and lofty and streaked with bright colours which numerous windows flooded with light there were scarcely any aisles they were reduced to the proportions of a mere passage running between the side chapels and the clustering columns and this circumstance seemed to increase the slim loftiness of the nave the soaring of the stonework in perpendicular lines of infantile graceful slenderness a gilded railing as transparent as lace closed the choir where the high altar of white marble richly sculptured arose in all its lavish chasteness but the feature of the building which astonished you was the mass of extraordinary ornamentation which transformed the whole of it into an overflowing exhibition of embroidery and jewellery what with all the banners and votive offerings the perfect river of gifts which had flowed into it and remained clinging to its walls in a stream of gold and silver velvet and silk covering it from top to bottom it was so to say the ever glowing sanctuary of gratitude whose thousand richer adornments seemed to be chanting a perpetual canticle of faith and thankfulness the banners in particular abounded as innumerable as the leaves of trees some thirty hung from the vaulted roof whilst others were suspended like pictures between the little columns around the triforium and others again displayed themselves on the walls waved in the depths of the sidechappels and encompassed the choir with a heaven of silk satin and velvet you could count them by hundreds and your eyes grew weary of admiring them many of them were quite celebrated so renowned for their skillful workmanship that talented embroiderers took the trouble to come to Lourdes on purpose to examine them and among these were the banner of our Lady of Fourvière bearing the arms of the city of Lyon the banner of Alsace of black velvet embroidered with gold the banner of Lorraine on which she beheld the virgin casting her cloak around to two children and the white and blue banner of Brittany on which bled the sacred heart of Jesus in the midst of a halo all empires and kingdoms of the earth were represented the most distant lands Canada, Brazil, Chile, Haiti here had their flags which in all piety were being offered as a tribute of homage to the Queen of Heaven then after the banners there were other marbles the thousands and thousands of gold and silver hearts which were hanging everywhere glittering on the walls like stars in the heavens some were grouped together in the form of mystical roses others described festoons and garlands others again climbed up the pillars surrounded the windows and constellated the deep dim chapels below the triforium somebody had had the ingenious idea of employing these hearts to trace in tall letters the various words which the Blessed Virgin had addressed to Bernadette and thus around the nave there extended a long freeze of words the delight of the infantile minds which busied themselves with spelling them it was a swarming, a prodigious resplendency of hearts an infinite number deeply impressed you when you thought of all the hands trembling with gratitude which had offered them moreover the adornments comprised many other votive offerings and some of quite an unexpected description there were bridal wreaths and crosses of honour jewels and photographs chaplets and even spurs in glass cases or frames there were also the epaulets and swords of officers together with a superb sabre left there in memory of a miraculous conversion but all this was not sufficient other riches, riches of every kind shone out on all sides marble statues, diadems enriched with brilliance a marvellous carpet designed at Blois and embroidered by ladies of all parts of France and a golden palm with ornaments of enamel the gift of the Sovereign Pontiff the lamps suspended from the vaulted roof some of them of massive gold and the most delicate workmanship were also gifts there were too numerous to be counted they studded the nave with stars of great price just in front of the tabernacle there was one, a masterpiece of chasing offered by Ireland others, one from Lille one from Valence one from Macau from far off China were veritable jewels sparkling with precious stones and how great was the resplendency when the choirs' score of chandeliers was illumined when the hundreds of lamps and the hundreds of candles burned altogether at the great evening ceremonies the whole church then became a conflagration the thousands of gold and silver hearts reflecting all the little flames with thousands of fiery scintillations it was like a huge and wondrous brazier the walls streamed with live flakes of light you seemed to be entering into the blinding glory of paradise itself whilst on all sides the innumerable banners spread out their silk, their satin and their velvet embroidered with sanguifluous sacred hearts victorious saints and virgins whose kindly smiles ah, how many ceremonies had already displayed their pomp in that basilica worship, prayer, chanting never ceased there from one end of the year to the other incense smoked, organs roared and kneeling multitudes sprayed there with their whole souls masses, vespers, sermons were continually following one upon another day by day the religious exercises began afresh and each festival of the church was celebrated with unparalleled magnificence the least noteworthy anniversary supplied a pretext for pompous solemnities each pilgrimage was granted its chair of the dazzling resplendency it was necessary that those suffering ones and those humble ones who had come from such long distances should be sent home consoled and enraptured carrying with them a vision of paradise inspired through its opening portals they beheld the luxurious surroundings of the divinity and would forever remain enraptured by the sight in the depths of bare, wretched rooms indeed by the side of humble palates of suffering throughout all Christendom a vision of the basilica with its blazing riches continually arose like a vision of fortune itself like a vision of the wealth of that life to be into which the poor would surely some day enter after their long, long misery in this terrestrial sphere Pierre however felt no delight no consolation, no hope came to him as he gazed upon all the splendor his frightful feeling of discomfort was increasing, always becoming black within him with that blackness of the tempest which gathers when man's thoughts and feelings pant and shriek he had felt immense desolation rising in his soul ever since Marie crying that she was healed had risen from her little car and walked along with such strength and fullness of life yet he loved her like a passionately attached brother and had experienced unlimited happiness on seeing that she no longer suffered why therefore should her felicity bring him such agony he could now no longer gaze at her kneeling there radiant amidst her tears with beauty recovered and increased without his poor heart bleeding as from some mortal wound still he wished to remain there and so averting his eyes he tried to interest himself in Father Massias who was still shaking with violent sobbing on the flagstones and whose prostration and annihilation amidst the consuming illusion of divine love and all he envied for a moment moreover he questioned Beltot feigning to admire some banner and requesting information respecting it which one asked the superintendent of the bearers that lace banner over there yes that one on the left oh it is a banner offered by Le Puy the arms of those of Le Puy and Lourd linked together by the rosary the lace is so fine that if you crumpled the banner up you could hold it in the hollow of your hand the Rabbe Judaine was now stepping forward the ceremony was about to begin again did the organs resound and again was a canticle chanted whilst on the altar the blessed sacrament looked like the sovereign planet amidst the scintillations of the golden silver hearts as innumerable as stars and then Pierre lacked the strength to remain there any longer since Marie had Madame de Jean-Claire and Raymond were with her and they would accompany her back he might surely go off by himself vanish into some shadowy corner and there at last vent his grief in a few words he excused himself giving his appointment with Dr. Chasseigne as a pretext for his departure however another fear suddenly came to him that of being unable to leave the building so densely did the serried throng of believers bar the open doorway but immediately afterwards he had an inspiration and crossing the sacristy descended into the crypt by the narrow interior stairway deep silence and sepulchral gloom suddenly succeeded to the joyous chance and prodigious radiance of the Basilica above cut in the rock the crypt formed two narrow passages parted by a massive block of stone which upheld the nave and conducting to a subterranean chapel under the abscess where some little lamps remained burning both day and night a dim forest of pillars rose up there a mystic terror reigned in that semi-obscurity where the mystery ever quivered the chapel walls remained bare like the very stones of the tomb in which all men must some day sleep the last sleep and along the passages against their sides covered from top to bottom with marble votive offerings you only saw a double row of confessionals for it was here in the lifeless tranquility of the bowels of the earth that sins were confessed and there were priests speaking all languages to absolve the sinners who came thither from the four corners of the world at that hour however when the multitude was thronging the Basilica above the crypt had become quite deserted not a soul save pierce throbbed there ever so faintly and he amidst that deep silence that darkness that coolness of the grave fell upon his knees it was not however through any need of prayer and worship but because his whole being was giving way beneath his crushing mental torment he felt a torturing longing to be able to see clearly within himself ah why could he not plunge even more deeply into the heart of things reflect understand and at last calm himself and it was a fearful agony that he experienced he tried to remember all the minutes that had gone by since Marie suddenly springing from her pallet of wretchedness had raised her cry of resurrection why had he even then despite his fraternal joy in seeing her erect felt such an awful sensation of discomfort as though indeed the greatest of all possible misfortunes had fallen upon him was he jealous of the divine grace did he suffer because the virgin whilst healing her had forgotten him whose soul was so afflicted he remembered how he had granted himself a last delay fixed a supreme appointment with faith for the moment when the blessed sacrament should pass by when Marie only cured and she was cured and still he did not believe and henceforth there was no hope for never, never would he be able to believe therein lay the bare bleeding sore truth burst upon him with blinding cruelty and certainty she was saved, he was lost that pretended miracle which had restored her to life had in him completed the ruin of all belief in the supernatural that which he had for a moment dreamed of seeking and perhaps finding at Lord, naive faith the happy faith of a little child was no longer possible would never bloom again after that collapse of the miraculous, that cure which Bourclerre had foretold and which had afterwards come to pass exactly as had been predicted jealous no, he was not jealous but he was ravaged full of mortal sadness and thus remaining all alone in the icy desert of his intelligence, regretting the illusion the lie, the divine love of the simple minded for which henceforth there was no room in his heart a flood of bitterness stifled him and tears started from his eyes he had slipped onto the flagstones prostrated by his anguish and by degrees he remembered the whole delightful story from the day when Marie, guessing how he was tortured by doubt, had become so passionately eager for his conversion, taking hold of his hand in the gloom, retaining it in her own and stammering that she would pray for him. Oh, pray for him with her whole soul she forgot herself, she entreated the blessed virgin to save her friend rather than herself if there were but one grace that she could obtain from her divine son then came another memory the memory of the delightful hours which they had spent together amid the dense darkness of the trees during the night procession there again they had prayed for one another, mingled one in the other with so ardent a desire for mutual happiness that for a moment they had attained to the very depths of the love which gives and immolates itself and now their long, tear-drenched tenderness their pure ideal of suffering was ending in this brutal separation she on her side saved radiant amidst the hoseannas of the triumphant Basilica and he lost sobbing with wretchedness bowed down in the depths of the dark crypt in an icy, grave-like solitude it was as though he had just lost her again and this time forever and forever all at once Pierre felt the sharp stab which this thought dealt his heart he at last understood his pain a sudden light illumined the terrible crisis of woe amidst which he was struggling he had lost Marie for the first time on the day when he had become a priest saying to himself that he might well renounce his manhood since she stricken in her sex by incurable illness would never be a woman but behold she was cured behold she had become a woman she had all at once appeared to him very strong, very beautiful living and desirable he who was dead however could not become a man again nevermore would he be able to raise the tombstone which crushed and imprisoned his flesh she fled away alone leaving him in the cold grave the whole wide world was opening before her with smiling happiness with the love which laughs in the sunlit paths with a husband with children no doubt whereas he buried as it were to his shoulders had not of his body free save his brain in order that he might suffer the more she had still been his so long as she had not belonged to another and if he had been enduring such agony during the past hour only through this final rending which this time parted her from him forever and forever then rage shook Pierre from head to foot he was tempted to return to the Basilica and cry the truth aloud to Marie the miracle was a lie the helpful beneficence of an all powerful divinity was but so much illusion nature alone had acted life had conquered once again and he would have given proofs he would have shown how life the only sovereign worked for health all the sufferings of this terrestrial sphere and then they would have gone off together they would have fled far far away that they might be happy but a sudden terror took possession of him what lay hands upon that little spotless soul kill all belief in it fill it with the ruins which worked such havoc in his own soul it all at once occurred to him that this would be odious sacrilege he would afterwards become horrified with himself he would look upon himself as her murderer where he some day to realize that he was unable to give her a happiness equal to that which she would have lost perhaps too she would not believe him and moreover would she ever consent to marry a priest who had broken his vows she who would always retain the sweet and never to be forgotten memory of how she had been healed in ecstasy his design then appeared to him insane monstrous polluting and his revolt rapidly subsided until he only retained a feeling of infinite weariness a sensation of a burning incurable wound the wound of his poor bruised and lacerated heart then however amidst his abandonment the void in which he was whirling a supreme struggle began filling him again with agony what should he do his sufferings made a coward of him and he would have liked to flee so that he might never see Marie again for he understood very well that he would now have to lie to her since she thought that he was saved like herself converted healed in soul even as she had been healed in body she had told him of her joy while dragging her car up the colossal gradient way oh to have had that great happiness together together to have felt their hearts melt and mingle one in the other and even then he had already lied as he would always be obliged to lie in order that he might not spoil her pure and blissful illusion he let the last throbbing of his veins subside and vowed that he would find sufficient strength for the sublime charity of feigning peacefulness of soul the rapture of one who is redeemed for he wished her to be wholly happy without a regret without a doubt in the full serenity of faith convinced that the blessed virgin had indeed given her consent to their purely mystical union what did his torments matter later on perhaps he might recover possession of himself amidst his desolate solitude of mind would there not always be a little joy to sustain him all that joy in the most unsoling falsity he would leave to her several minutes again elapsed and Pierre still overwhelmed remained on the flagstones seeking to calm his fever he no longer thought, he no longer lived he was a prey to that prostration of the entire being which follows upon great crises but all at once he fancied he could hear a sound of footsteps and thereupon he painfully rose to his feet and feigned to be reading the inscriptions graven in the marble votive slabs along the walls he had been mistaken nobody was there nevertheless seeking to divert his mind he continued perusing the inscriptions at first in a mechanical kind of way and then little by little feeling a fresh emotion steel over him the sight was almost beyond imagination faith, love and gratitude displayed themselves in a hundred a thousand ways on those marble slabs with gilded lettering some of the inscriptions were so outless as to provoke a smile a colonel had sent a sculptured representation of his foot with the words thou hast preserved it grants that it may serve thee father on you read the line may her protection extend to the glass trade and then by the frankness of certain expressions of thanks you realized of what a strange character the appeals had been to marry the immaculate ran one inscription from a father of a family in recognition of health restored a lawsuit won and advancement gained however the memory of these instances faded away amidst the chorus of soaring fervent cries there was the cry of the lovers Paul and Anna in treat our Lady of Lourdes to bless their union there was the cry of the mothers in various forms gratitude to Mary who has thrice healed my child gratitude to Mary for the birth of Antoinette whom I dedicate like myself and all my kin to her PD three years old has been preserved to the love of his parents and then came the cry of the wives the cry too of the Sikh restored to health and of the souls restored to happiness protect my husband grants that my husband may enjoy good health I was crippled in both legs and now I am healed we came and now we hope I prayed I wept and she heard me and there were yet other cries cries whose veiled glow conjured up thoughts of long romances thou didst join us together protect us we pray thee to Mary for the greatest of all blessings and the same cries the same words gratitude thankfulness homage acknowledgement occurred again and again ever with the same passion at fervour those hundreds those thousands of cries which were forever graven on that marble and from the depths of the crypt rose clamorously to the virgin proclaiming the everlasting devotion of the unhappy beings whom she had suckered Pierre did not weary of reading them albeit his mouth was bitter and increasing desolation was filling him so it was only he who had no succor to hope for when so many sufferers were listened to he alone had been unable to make himself heard and he now began to think of the extraordinary number of prayers which must be said at lord from one end of the year to the other he tried to cast them up those said during the days spent at the grotto and during the nights spent at the rosary those said at the ceremonies at the basilica those said at the sunlight the starlight processions but this continual entreaty of every second was beyond computation it seemed as if the faithful were determined to weary the ears of the divinity determined to extort favours and forgiveness by the very multitude the vast multitude of their prayers the priests said that it was necessary to offer to God the acts of expiation which the sins of France required and that when the number of these acts of expiation should be large enough God would smite France no more the greatest belief in the necessity of chastisement what a ferocious idea born of the gloomiest pessimism how evil life must be if it were indeed necessary that such imploring cries such cries of physical and moral wretchedness should ever and ever ascend to heaven in the midst of all his sadness Pierre felt deep compassion penetrate his heart he was upset by the thoughts that mankind should be so wretched reduced to such a state of woe so bare, so weak, so utterly forsaken it renounced its own reason to place the one soul possibility of happiness in the hallucinatory intoxication of dreams tears once more filled his eyes he wept for himself and for others for all the poor tortured beings who feel a need of stupefying and numbing their pains in order to escape from the realities of the world he again seemed to hear the swarming kneeling crowd of the grotto raising the glowing entreaty of its prayer to heaven the multitude of twenty and thirty thousand souls from whose midst descended such a fervor of desire that you seemed to see it smoking in the sunlight like incense then another form of the exultation of faith glowed beneath the crypt in the church of the rosary where knights were spent in a paradise of rapture amidst the silent delights of the communion the mute appeals in which the whole being pines, burns and sores are loft and as though the cries raised before the grotto and the perpetual adoration of the rosary were not sufficient that clamour of ardent entreaty burst forth afresh on the walls of the crypt around him and here it was eternised in marble here it would continue shrieking the sufferings of humanity even into the far away ages it was the marble it was the walls themselves preying seized by that great shudder of universal woe which penetrated even stones and at last the prayers ascended yet higher, still higher sored aloft from the radiant basilica which was humming and buzzing above him full as it now was of a frantic multitude whose mighty voice bursting into a canticle of hope he fancied he could hear through the flagstones of the nave and it finally seemed to him that he was being whirled away transported as though he were indeed amidst the very vibrations of that huge wave of prayer which starting from the dust of the earth ascended the tier of superposed churches spreading from tabernacle to tabernacle and filling even the walls with such pity that they sobbed aloud and that the supreme cry of wretchedness pierced its way into heaven with the white spire the lofty golden cross above the steeple Almighty God O divinity, helpful power whoever, whatever thou mayest be take pity upon poor mankind and make human suffering cease all at once Pierre was dazzled he had followed the left-hand passage and was coming out into broad daylight above the inclined ways and two affectionate arms at once caught hold of him and clasped him it was Dr. Chasseigne whose appointment he had forgotten and who had been waiting there to take him to visit Bernadette's room and Abé Péramal's church O what joy must be yours, my child exclaimed the good old man I have just learnt the great news the extraordinary favour which our Lady of Lourdes has granted to your young friend recollect what I told you the day before yesterday I am now at ease you are saved a last bitterness came to the young priest who was very pale however he was able to smile and he gently answered yes we are saved, we are very happy it was the lie beginning the divine illusion which in a spirit of charity he wished to give to others and then one more spectacle met Pierre's eyes the principal door of the basilica stood wide open and a red sheet of light from the setting sun was infallading the nave from one to the other end everything was flaring with the spender of a conflagration the guilt railings of the choir the votive offerings of gold and silver the lamps enriched with precious stones the banners with their bright embroideries and the swinging sensors which seemed like flying jewels and yonder in the depths of this burning splendour amidst the snowy surpluses and the golden chasables he recognised Marie with hair unbound hair of gold like all else enveloping her in a golden mantle and the organs burst into a hymn of triumph and the delirious people that claimed God and Abbe Juden who had again just taken the blessed sacrament from off the altar raised it aloft and presented it to their gaze for the last time and radiantly magnificent it shone out like a glory amidst the streaming gold of the basilica whose prodigious triumph all the bells proclaimed in clanging flying peels End of section 19