ildly
along the paths, obstinately hoping that she would at last get her to
sleep, and so hush that wail which was rending her heart. And suddenly,
utterly worn-out, sharing each of her daughter's death pangs, she found
herself opposite the Grotto, at the feet of the miracle-working Virgin,
she who forgave and who healed.

"O Virgin, Mother most admirable, heal her! O Virgin, Mother of Divine
Grace, heal her!"

She had fallen on her knees, and with quivering, outstretched arms was
still offering her expiring daughter, in a paroxysm of hope and desire
which seemed to raise her from the ground. And the rain, which she never
noticed, beat down behind her with the fury of an escaped torrent, whilst
violent claps of thunder shook the mountains. For one moment she thought
her prayer was granted, for Rose had slightly shivered as though visited
by the archangel, her face becoming quite white, her eyes and mouth
opening wide; and with one last little gasp she ceased to cry.

"O Virgin, Mother of Our Redeemer, heal her! O Virgin, All-powerful
Mother, heal her!"

But the poor woman felt her child become even lighter in her extended
arms. And now she became afraid at no longer hearing her moan, at seeing
her so white, with staring eyes and open mouth, without a sign of life.
How was it that she did not smile if she were cured? Suddenly a loud
heart-rending cry rang out, the cry of the mother, surpassing even the
din of the thunder in the storm, whose violence was increasing. Her child
was dead. And she rose up erect, turned her back on that deaf Virgin who
let little children die, and started off like a madwoman beneath the
lashing downpour, going straight before her without knowing whither, and
still and ever carrying and nursing that poor little body which she had
held in her arms during so many days and nights. A thunderbolt fell,
shivering one of the neighbouring trees, as though with the stroke of a
giant axe, amidst a great crash of twisted and broken branches.

Pierre had rushed after Madame Vincent, eager to guide and help her. But
he was unable to follow her, for he at once lost sight of her behind the
blurring curtain of rain. When he returned, the mass was drawing to an
end, and, as soon as the rain fell less violently, the officiating priest
went off under the white silk umbrella embroidered with gold. Meantime a
kind of omnibus awaited the few patients to take them back to the
hospital.

Marie pressed Pierre's