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and then the convent. Still, a doubt came to me when I heard of the

tender interest which she took in the orphan asylum built by the Sisters

of Nevers, farther along this very road. Poor little girls are received

into it, and shielded from the perils of the highways. And if Bernadette

wished it to be extremely large, so as to lodge all the little lambs in

danger, was it not because she herself remembered having roamed the roads

with bare feet, and still trembled at the idea of what might have become

of her but for the help of the Blessed Virgin?"

Then, resuming his narrative, he went on telling Pierre of the crowds

that flocked to see Bernadette and pay her reverence in her asylum at

Lourdes. This had proved a source of considerable fatigue to her. Not a

day went by without a stream of visitors appearing before her. They came

from all parts of France, some even from abroad; and it soon proved

necessary to refuse the applications of those who were actuated by mere

inquisitiveness, and to grant admittance only to the genuine believers,

the members of the clergy, and the people of mark on whom the doors could

not well have been shut. A Sister was always present to protect

Bernadette against the excessive indiscretion of some of her visitors,

for questions literally rained upon her, and she often grew faint through

having to repeat her story so many times. Ladies of high position fell on

their knees, kissed her gown, and would have liked to carry a piece of it

away as a relic. She also had to defend her chaplet, which in their

excitement they all begged her to sell to them for a fabulous amount. One

day a certain marchioness endeavoured to secure it by giving her another

one which she had brought with her--a chaplet with a golden cross and

beads of real pearls. Many hoped that she would consent to work a miracle

in their presence; children were brought to her in order that she might

lay her hands upon them; she was also consulted in cases of illness, and

attempts were made to purchase her influence with the Virgin. Large sums

were offered to her. At the slightest sign, the slightest expression of a

desire to be a queen, decked with jewels and crowned with gold, she would

have been overwhelmed with regal presents. And while the humble remained

on their knees on her threshold, the great ones of the earth pressed

round her, and would have counted it a glory to act as her escort. It was

even related that one among them, the handsomest and wealthiest of

princes, came one clear sunny April day to ask her hand in marriage.

"But what always struck and displeased me," said Pierre, "was her

departure from Lourdes when she was two-and-twenty, her sudden

disappearance and sequestration in the convent of Saint Gildard at

Nevers, whence she never emerged. Didn't that give a semblance of truth

to those spurious rumours of insanity which were circulated? Didn't it

help people to suppose that she was being shut up, whisked away for fear

of some indiscretion on her part, some naive remark or other which might

have revealed the secret of a prolonged fraud? Indeed, to speak plainly,

I will confess to you that for my own part I still believe that she was

spirited away."

Doctor Chassaigne gently shook his head. "No, no," said he, "there was no

story prepared in advance in this affair, no big melodrama secretly

staged and afterwards performed by more or less unconscious actors. The

developments came of themselves, by the sole force of circumstances; and

they were always very intricate, very difficult to analyse. Moreover, it

is certain that it was Bernadette herself who wished to leave Lourdes.

Those incessant visits wearied her, she felt ill at ease amidst all that

noisy worship. All that _she_ desired was a dim nook where she might live

in peace, and so fierce was she at times in her disinterestedness, that

when money was handed to her, even with the pious intent of having a mass

said or a taper burnt, she would fling it upon the floor. She never

accepted anything for herself or for her family, which remained in

poverty. And with such pride as she possessed, such natural simplicity,

such a desire to remain in the background, one can very well understand

that she should have wished to disappear and cloister herself in some

lonely spot so as to prepare herself to make a good death. Her work was

accomplished; she had initiated this great movement scarcely knowing how

or why; and she could really be of no further utility. Others were about

to conduct matters to an issue and insure the triumph of the Grotto."

"Let us admit, then, that she went off of her own accord," said Pierre;

"still, what a relief it must have been for the people you speak of, who

thenceforth became the real masters, whilst millions of money were

raining down on Lourdes from the whole world."

"Oh! certainly; I don't pretend that any attempt was made to detain her

here!" exclaimed the doctor. "Frankly, I even believe that she was in

some degree urged into the course she took. She ended by becoming

somewhat of an incumbrance. It was not that any annoying revelations were

feared from her; but remember that with her extreme timidity and frequent

illnesses she was scarcely ornamental. Besides, however small the room

which she took up at Lourdes, however obedient she showed herself, she

was none the less a power, and attracted the multitude, which made her,

so to say, a competitor of the Grotto. For the Grotto to remain alone,

resplendent in its glory, it was advisable that Bernadette should

withdraw into the background, become as it were a simple legend. Such,

indeed, must have been the reasons which induced Monseigneur Laurence,

the Bishop of Tarbes, to hasten her departure. The only mistake that was

made was in saying that it was a question of screening her from the

enterprises of the world, as though it were feared that she might fall

into the sin of pride, by growing vain of the saintly fame with which the

whole of Christendom re-echoed. And this was doing her a grave injury,

for she was as incapable of pride as she was of falsehood. Never, indeed,

was there a more candid or more modest child."

The doctor was growing impassioned, excited. But all at once he became

calm again, and a pale smile returned to his lips. "'Tis true," said he,

"I love her; the more I have thought of her, the more have I learned to

love her. But you must not think, Pierre, that I am completely brutified

by belief. If I nowadays acknowledge the existence of an unseen power, if

I feel a need of believing in another, better, and more just life, I

nevertheless know right well that there are men remaining in this world

of ours; and at times, even when they wear the cowl or the cassock, the

work they do is vile."

There came another interval of silence. Each was continuing his dream

apart from the other. Then the doctor resumed: "I will tell you of a

fancy which has often haunted me. Suppose we admit that Bernadette was

not the shy, simple child we knew her to be; let us endow her with a

spirit of intrigue and domination, transform her into a conqueress, a

leader of nations, and try to picture what, in that case, would have

happened. It is evident that the Grotto would be hers, the Basilica also.

We should see her lording it at all the ceremonies, under a dais, with a

gold mitre on her head. She would distribute the miracles; with a

sovereign gesture her little hand would lead the multitudes to heaven.

All the lustre and glory would come from her, she being the saint, the

chosen one, the only one that had been privileged to see the Divinity

face to face. And indeed nothing would seem more just, for she would

triumph after toiling, enjoy the fruit of her labour in all glory. But

you see, as it happens, she is defrauded, robbed. The marvellous harvests

sown by her are reaped by others. During the twelve years which she lived

at Saint Gildard, kneeling in the gloom, Lourdes was full of victors,

priests in golden vestments chanting thanksgivings, and blessing churches

and monuments erected at a cost of millions. She alone did not behold the

triumph of the new faith, whose author she had been. You say that she

dreamt it all. Well, at all events, what a beautiful dream it was, a

dream which has stirred the whole world, and from which she, dear girl,

never awakened!"

They halted and sat down for a moment on a rock beside the road, before

returning to the town. In front of them the Gave, deep at this point of

its course, was rolling blue waters tinged with dark moire-like

reflections, whilst, farther on, rushing hurriedly over a bed of large

stones, the stream became so much foam, a white froth, light like snow.

Amidst the gold raining from the sun, a fresh breeze came down from the

mountains.

Whilst listening to that story of how Bernadette had been exploited and

suppressed, Pierre had simply found in it all a fresh motive for revolt;

and, with his eyes fixed on the ground, he began to think of the

injustice of nature, of that law which wills that the strong should

devour the weak. Then, all at once raising his head, he inquired: "And

did you also know Abbe Peyramale?"

The doctor's eyes brightened once more, and he eagerly replied:

"Certainly I did! He was an upright, energetic man, a saint, an apostle.

He and Bernadette were the great makers of Our Lady of Lourdes. Like her,

he endured frightful sufferings, and, like her, he died from them. Those

who do not know his story can know nothing, understand nothing, of the

drama enacted here."

Thereupon he related that story at length. Abbe Peyramale was the parish

priest of Lourdes at the time of the apparitions. A native of the region,

tall, broad-shouldered, with a powerful leonine head, he was extremely

intelligent, very honest and goodhearted, though at times violent and

domineering. He seemed built for combat. An enemy of all pious

exaggerations, discharging the duties of his ministry in a broad, liberal

spirit, he regarded the apparitions with distrust when he first heard of

them, refused to believe in Bernadette's stories, questioned her, and

demanded proofs. It was only at a later stage, when the blast of faith

became irresistible, upsetting the most rebellious minds and mastering

the multitude, that he ended, in his turn, by bowing his head; and when

he was finally conquered, it was more particularly by his love for the

humble and the oppressed which he could not restrain when he beheld

Bernadette threatened with imprisonment. The civil authorities were

persecuting one of his flock; at this his shepherd's heart awoke, and, in

her defence, he gave full reign to his ardent passion for justice.

Moreover, the charm which the child diffused had worked upon him; he felt

her to be so candid, so truthful, that he began to place a blind faith in

her and love her even as everybody else loved her. Moreover, why should

he have curtly dismissed all questions of miracles, when miracles abound

in the pages of Holy Writ? It was not for a minister of religion,

whatever his prudence, to set himself up as a sceptic when entire

populations were falling on their knees and the Church seemed to be on

the eve of another great triumph. Then, too, he had the nature of one who

leads men, who stirs up crowds, who builds, and in this affair he had

really found his vocation, the vast field in which he might exercise his

energy, the great cause to which he might wholly devote himself with all

his passionate ardour and determination to succeed.

From that moment, then, Abbe Peyramale had but one thought, to execute

the orders which the Virgin had commissioned Bernadette to transmit to

him. He caused improvements to be carried out at the Grotto. A railing

was placed in front of it; pipes were laid for the conveyance of the

water from the source, and a variety of work was accomplished in order to

clear the approaches. However, the Virgin had particularly requested that

a chapel might be built; and he wished to have a church, quite a

triumphal Basilica. He pictured everything on a grand scale, and, full of

confidence in the enthusiastic help of Christendom, he worried the

architects, requiring them to design real palaces worthy of the Queen of

Heaven. As a matter of fact, offerings already abounded, gold poured from

the most distant dioceses, a rain of gold destined to increase and never

end. Then came his happy years: he was to be met among the workmen at all

hours, instilling activity into them like the jovial, good-natured fellow

he was, constantly on the point of taking a pick or trowel in hand

himself, such was his eagerness to behold the realisation of his dream.

But days of trial were in store for him: he fell ill, and lay in danger

of death on the fourth of April, 1864, when the first procession started

from his parish church to the Grotto, a procession of sixty thousand

pilgrims, which wound along the streets amidst an immense concourse of

spectators.

On the day when Abbe Peyramale rose from his bed, saved, a first time,

from death, he found himself despoiled. To second him in his heavy task,

Monseigneur Laurence, the Bishop, had already given him as assistant a

former episcopal secretary, Father Sempe, whom he had appointed warden of

the Missionaries of Geraison, a community founded by himself. Father

Sempe was a sly, spare little man, to all appearance most disinterested

and humble, but in reality consumed by all the thirst of ambition. At the

outset he kept in his place, serving the parish priest of Lourdes like a

faithful subordinate, attending to matters of all kinds in order to

lighten the other's work, and acquiring information on every possible

subject in his desire to render himself indispensable. He must soon have

realised what a rich farm the Grotto was destined to become, and what a

colossal revenue might be derived from it, if only a little skill were

exercised. And thenceforth he no longer stirred from the episcopal

residence, but ended by acquiring great influence over the calm,