k as to draw tears from his eyes. Madame
Vincent was now coming out again, still carrying her little girl in her
arms, her wretched, her fondly loved little girl, who had been dipped in
a fainting state in the icy water, and whose little face, but imperfectly
wiped, was as pale as ever, and indeed even more woeful and lifeless. The
mother was sobbing, crucified by this long agony, reduced to despair by
the refusal of the Blessed Virgin, who had remained insensible to her
child's sufferings. And yet when Madame Vetu in her turn entered, with
the eager passion of a dying woman about to drink the water of life, the
haunting, obstinate cry burst out again, without sign of discouragement
or lassitude: "Lord, heal our sick! Lord, heal our sick!" The Capuchin
had now fallen with his face to the ground, and the howling crowd, with
arms outstretched, devoured the soil with its kisses.

Pierre wished to join Madame Vincent to soothe her with a few kind,
encouraging words; however, a fresh string of pilgrims not only prevented
him from passing, but threw him towards the fountain which another throng
besieged. There was here quite a range of low buildings, a long stone
wall with carved coping, and it had been necessary for the people to form
in procession, although there were twelve taps from which the water fell
into a narrow basin. Many came hither to fill bottles, metal cans, and
stoneware pitchers. To prevent too great a waste of water, the tap only
acted when a knob was pressed with the hand. And thus many weak-handed
women lingered there a long time, the water dripping on their feet. Those
who had no cans to fill at least came to drink and wash their faces.
Pierre noticed one young man who drank seven small glassfuls of water,
and washed his eyes seven times without wiping them. Others were drinking
out of shells, tin goblets, and leather cups. And he was particularly
interested by the sight of Elise Rouquet, who, thinking it useless to go
to the piscinas to bathe the frightful sore which was eating away her
face, had contented herself with employing the water of the fountain as a
lotion, every two hours since her arrival that morning. She knelt down,
threw back her fichu, and for a long time applied a handkerchief to her
face--a handkerchief which she had soaked with the miraculous fluid like
a sponge; and the crowd around rushed upon the fountain in such fury that
folks no longer noticed her diseased face, but washed themselv