第 36 页

However, he still had his head in the washing basin, ducking it in the

fresh, cool water, when M. de Guersaint, who was unable to remain alone,

came back again. "I've given the order," said he; "they will bring it up.

Ah! what a curious place this hotel is! You have of course seen the

landlord, Master Majeste, clad in white from head to foot and looking so

dignified in his office. The place is crammed, it appears; they have

never had so many people before. So it is no wonder that there should be

such a fearful noise. I was wakened up three times during the night.

People kept on talking in the room next to mine. And you, did you sleep

well?"

"No, indeed," answered Pierre; "I was tired to death, but I couldn't

close my eyes. No doubt it was the uproar you speak of that prevented

me."

In his turn he then began to talk of the thin partitions, and the manner

in which the house had been crammed with people until it seemed as though

the floors and the walls would collapse with the strain. The place had

been shaking all night long; every now and then people suddenly rushed

along the passages, heavy footfalls resounded, gruff voices ascended

nobody knew whence; without speaking of all the moaning and coughing, the

frightful coughing which seemed to re-echo from every wall. Throughout

the night people evidently came in and went out, got up and lay down

again, paying no attention to time in the disorder in which they lived,

amid shocks of passion which made them hurry to their devotional

exercises as to pleasure parties.

"And Marie, how was she when you left her last night?" M. de Guersaint

suddenly inquired.

"A great deal better," replied Pierre; "she had an attack of extreme

discouragement, but all her courage and faith returned to her at last."

A pause followed; and then the girl's father resumed with his tranquil

optimism: "Oh! I am not anxious. Things will go on all right, you'll see.

For my own part, I am delighted. I had asked the Virgin to grant me her

protection in my affairs--you know, my great invention of navigable

balloons. Well, suppose I told you that she has already shown me her

favour? Yes, indeed yesterday evening while I was talking with Abbe des

Hermoises, he told me that at Toulouse he would no doubt be able to find

a person to finance me--one of his friends, in fact, who is extremely

wealthy and takes great interest in mechanics! And in this I at once saw

the hand of God!" M. de Guersaint began laughing with his childish laugh,

and then he added: "That Abbe des Hermoises is a charming man. I shall

see this afternoon if there is any means of my accompanying him on an

excursion to the Cirque de Gavarnie at small cost."

Pierre, who wished to pay everything, the hotel bill and all the rest, at

once encouraged him in this idea. "Of course," said he, "you ought not to

miss this opportunity to visit the mountains, since you have so great a

wish to do so. Your daughter will be very happy to know that you are

pleased."

Their talk, however, was now interrupted by a servant girl bringing the

two cups of chocolate with a couple of rolls on a metal tray covered with

a napkin. She left the door open as she entered the room, so that a

glimpse was obtained of some portion of the passage. "Ah! they are

already doing my neighbour's room!" exclaimed M. de Guersaint. "He is a

married man, isn't he? His wife is with him?"

The servant looked astonished. "Oh, no," she replied, "he is quite

alone!"

"Quite alone? Why, I heard people talking in his room this morning."

"You must be mistaken, monsieur," said the servant; "he has just gone out

after giving orders that his room was to be tidied up at once." And then,

while taking the cups of chocolate off the tray and placing them on the

table, she continued: "Oh! he is a very respectable gentleman. Last year

he was able to have one of the pavilions which Monsieur Majeste lets out

to visitors, in the lane by the side of the hotel; but this year he

applied too late and had to content himself with that room, which greatly

worried him, for it isn't a large one, though there is a big cupboard in

it. As he doesn't care to eat with everybody, he takes his meals there,

and he orders good wine and the best of everything, I can tell you."

"That explains it all!" replied M. de Guersaint gaily; "he dined too well

last night, and I must have heard him talking in his sleep."

Pierre had been listening somewhat inquisitively to all this chatter.

"And on this side, my side," said he, "isn't there a gentleman with two

ladies, and a little boy who walks about with a crutch?"

"Yes, Monsieur l'Abbe, I know them. The aunt, Madame Chaise, took one of

the two rooms for herself; and Monsieur and Madame Vigneron with their

son Gustave have had to content themselves with the other one. This is

the second year they have come to Lourdes. They are very respectable

people too."

Pierre nodded. During the night he had fancied he could recognise the

voice of M. Vigneron, whom the heat doubtless had incommoded. However,

the servant was now thoroughly started, and she began to enumerate the

other persons whose rooms were reached by the same passage; on the left

hand there was a priest, then a mother with three daughters, and then an

old married couple; whilst on the right lodged another gentleman who was

all alone, a young lady, too, who was unaccompanied, and then a family

party which included five young children. The hotel was crowded to its

garrets. The servants had had to give up their rooms the previous evening

and lie in a heap in the washhouse. During the night, also, some camp

bedsteads had even been set up on the landings; and one honourable

ecclesiastic, for lack of other accommodation, had been obliged to sleep

on a billiard-table.

When the girl had retired and the two men had drunk their chocolate, M.

de Guersaint went back into his own room to wash his hands again, for he

was very careful of his person; and Pierre, who remained alone, felt

attracted by the gay sunlight, and stepped for a moment on to the narrow

balcony outside his window. Each of the third-floor rooms on this side of

the hotel was provided with a similar balcony, having a carved-wood

balustrade. However, the young priest's surprise was very great, for he

had scarcely stepped outside when he suddenly saw a woman protrude her

head over the balcony next to him--that of the room occupied by the

gentleman whom M. de Guersaint and the servant had been speaking of.

And this woman he had recognised: it was Madame Volmar. There was no

mistaking her long face with its delicate drawn features, its magnificent

large eyes, those brasiers over which a veil, a dimming _moire_, seemed

to pass at times. She gave a start of terror on perceiving him. And he,

extremely ill at ease, grieved that he should have frightened her, made

all haste to withdraw into his apartment. A sudden light had dawned upon

him, and he now understood and could picture everything. So this was why

she had not been seen at the hospital, where little Madame Desagneaux was

always asking for her. Standing motionless, his heart upset, Pierre fell

into a deep reverie, reflecting on the life led by this woman whom he

knew, that torturing conjugal life in Paris between a fierce

mother-in-law and an unworthy husband, and then those three days of

complete liberty spent at Lourdes, that brief bonfire of passion to which

she had hastened under the sacrilegious pretext of serving the divinity.

Tears whose cause he could not even explain, tears that ascended from the

very depths of his being, from his own voluntary chastity, welled into

his eyes amidst the feeling of intense sorrow which came over him.

"Well, are you ready?" joyously called M. de Guersaint as he came back,

with his grey jacket buttoned up and his hands gloved.

"Yes, yes, let us go," replied Pierre, turning aside and pretending to

look for his hat so that he might wipe his eyes.

Then they went out, and on crossing the threshold heard on their left

hand an unctuous voice which they recognised; it was that of M. Vigneron,

who was loudly repeating the morning prayers. A moment afterwards came a

meeting which interested them. They were walking down the passage when

they were passed by a middle-aged, thick-set, sturdy-looking gentleman,

wearing carefully trimmed whiskers. He bent his back and passed so

rapidly that they were unable to distinguish his features, but they

noticed that he was carrying a carefully made parcel. And immediately

afterwards he slipped a key into the lock of the room adjoining M. de

Guersaint's, and opening the door disappeared noiselessly, like a shadow.

M. de Guersaint had glanced round: "Ah! my neighbour," said he; "he has

been to market and has brought back some delicacies, no doubt!"

Pierre pretended not to hear, for his companion was so light-minded that

he did not care to trust him with a secret which was not his own.

Besides, a feeling of uneasiness was returning to him, a kind of chaste

terror at the thought that the world and the flesh were there taking

their revenge, amidst all the mystical enthusiasm which he could feel

around him.

They reached the hospital just as the patients were being brought out to

be carried to the Grotto; and they found that Marie had slept well and

was very gay. She kissed her father and scolded him when she learnt that

he had not yet decided on his trip to Gavarnie. She should really be

displeased with him, she said, if he did not go. Still with the same

restful, smiling expression, she added that she did not expect to be

cured that day; and then, assuming an air of mystery, she begged Pierre

to obtain permission for her to spend the following night before the

Grotto. This was a favour which all the sufferers ardently coveted, but

which only a few favoured ones with difficulty secured. After protesting,

anxious as he felt with regard to the effect which a night spent in the

open air might have upon her health, the young priest, seeing how unhappy

she had suddenly become, at last promised that he would make the

application. Doubtless she imagined that she would only obtain a hearing

from the Virgin when they were alone together in the slumbering

peacefulness of the night. That morning, indeed, she felt so lost among

the innumerable patients who were heaped together in front of the Grotto,

that already at ten o'clock she asked to be taken back to the hospital,

complaining that the bright light tired her eyes. And when her father and

the priest had again installed her in the Sainte-Honorine Ward, she gave

them their liberty for the remainder of the day. "No, don't come to fetch

me," she said, "I shall not go back to the Grotto this afternoon--it

would be useless. But you will come for me this evening at nine o'clock,

won't you, Pierre? It is agreed, you have given me your word."

He repeated that he would endeavour to secure the requisite permission,

and that, if necessary, he would apply to Father Fourcade in person.

"Then, till this evening, darling," said M. de Guersaint, kissing his

daughter. And he and Pierre went off together, leaving her lying on her

bed, with an absorbed expression on her features, as her large, smiling

eyes wandered away into space.

It was barely half-past ten when they got back to the Hotel of the

Apparitions; but M. de Guersaint, whom the fine weather delighted, talked

of having _dejeuner_ at once, so that he might the sooner start upon a

ramble through Lourdes. First of all, however, he wished to go up to his

room, and Pierre following him, they encountered quite a drama on their

way. The door of the room occupied by the Vignerons was wide open, and

little Gustave could be seen lying on the sofa which served as his bed.

He was livid; a moment previously he had suddenly fainted, and this had

made the father and mother imagine that the end had come. Madame Vigneron

was crouching on a chair, still stupefied by her fright, whilst M.

Vigneron rushed about the room, thrusting everything aside in order that

he might prepare a glass of sugared-water, to which he added a few drops

of some elixir. This draught, he exclaimed, would set the lad right

again. But all the same, it was incomprehensible. The boy was still

strong, and to think that he should have fainted like that, and have

turned as white as a chicken! Speaking in this wise, M. Vigneron glanced

at Madame Chaise, the aunt, who was standing in front of the sofa,

looking in good health that morning; and his hands shook yet more

violently at the covert idea that if that stupid attack had carried off

his son, they would no longer have inherited the aunt's fortune. He was

quite beside himself at this thought, and eagerly opening the boy's mouth

he compelled him to swallow the entire contents of the glass. Then,

however, when he heard Gustave sigh, and saw him open his eyes again, his

fatherly good-nature reappeared, and he shed tears, and called the lad

his dear little fellow. But on Madame Chaise drawing near to offer some

assistance, Gustave repulsed her with a sudden gesture of hatred, as

though he understood how this woman's money unconsciously perverted his

parents, who, after all, were worthy folks. Greatly offended, the old

lady turned on her heel, and seated herself in a corner, whilst the

father and mother, at last freed from their anxiety, returned thanks to

the Blessed Virgin for having preserved their darling, who smiled at them

with his intelligent and infinitely sorrowful smile, knowing and

understanding everything as he did, and no longer having any taste for

life, although he was not fifteen.

"Can we be of any help to you?" asked Pierre in an obliging way.

"No, no, I thank you, gentlemen," replied M. Vigneron, coming for a

moment into the passage. "But oh! we did have a fright! Think of it, an