ed Virgin had vouchsafed me such an undeserved favour, they begged
me to intercede for their poor sufferer. I have already said several
masses, and most sincerely pray for her. There, you see her yonder on the
ground. She insisted on being taken out of the carriage, in spite of all
the trouble which one will have to place her in it again."

On a shady part of the platform, in a kind of long box, there was, as the
old priest said, a woman whose beautiful, perfectly oval face, lighted up
by splendid eyes, denoted no greater age than six-and-twenty. She was
suffering from a frightful disease. The disappearance from her system of
the calcareous salts had led to a softening of the osseous framework, the
slow destruction of her bones. Three years previously, after the advent
of a stillborn child, she had felt vague pains in the spinal column. And
then, little by little, her bones had rarefied and lost shape, the
vertebrae had sunk, the bones of the pelvis had flattened, and those of
the arms and legs had contracted. Thus shrunken, melting away as it were,
she had become a mere human remnant, a nameless, fluid thing, which could
not be set erect, but had to be carried hither and thither with infinite
care, for fear lest she should vanish between one's fingers. Her face, a
motionless face, on which sat a stupefied imbecile expression, still
retained its beauty of outline, and yet it was impossible to gaze at this
wretched shred of a woman without feeling a heart-pang, the keener on
account of all the luxury surrounding her; for not only was the box in
which she lay lined with blue quilted silk, but she was covered with
valuable lace, and a cap of rare valenciennes was set upon her head, her
wealth thus being proclaimed, displayed, in the midst of her awful agony.

"Ah! how pitiable it is," resumed the Abbe Judaine in an undertone. "To
think that she is so young, so pretty, possessed of millions of money!
And if you knew how dearly loved she was, with what adoration she is
still surrounded. That tall gentleman near her is her husband, that
elegantly dressed lady is her sister, Madame Jousseur."

Pierre remembered having often noticed in the newspapers the name of
Madame Jousseur, wife of a diplomatist, and a conspicuous member of the
higher spheres of Catholic society in Paris. People had even circulated a
story of some great passion which she had fought against and vanquished.
She also was very prettily dressed, with marvellous