ll him that she already knew his secret, his misfortune, that
wretchedness, so fearful for a priest, of being unable to believe.

Despite himself he had revealed everything during their chats together,
and she, with the delicate intuition of a friend, had been able to read
his conscience. She felt terribly distressed on his account; she deemed
him, with that mortal moral malady, to be more deserving of pity than
herself. And then as he, thunderstruck, was still unable to find an
answer, acknowledging the truth of her words by his very silence, she
again began to speak to him of Lourdes, adding in a low whisper that she
wished to confide him as well as herself to the protection of the Blessed
Virgin, whom she entreated to restore him to faith. And from that evening
forward she did not cease speaking on the subject, repeating again and
again, that if she went to Lourdes she would be surely cured. But she was
prevented from making the journey by lack of means and she did not even
dare to speak to her sister of the pecuniary question. So two months went
by, and day by day she grew weaker, exhausted by her longing dreams, her
eyes ever turned towards the flashing light of the miraculous Grotto far
away. Pierre then experienced many painful days. He had at first told
Marie that he would not accompany her. But his decision was somewhat
shaken by the thought that if he made up his mind to go, he might profit
by the journey to continue his inquiries with regard to Bernadette, whose
charming image lingered in his heart. And at last he even felt penetrated
by a delightful feeling, an unacknowledged hope, the hope that Marie was
perhaps right, that the Virgin might take pity on him and restore to him
his former blind faith, the faith of the child who loves and does not
question. Oh! to believe, to believe with his whole soul, to plunge into
faith for ever! Doubtless there was no other possible happiness. He
longed for faith with all the joyousness of his youth, with all the love
that he had felt for his mother, with all his burning desire to escape
from the torment of understanding and knowing, and to slumber forever in
the depths of divine ignorance. It was cowardly, and yet so delightful;
to exist no more, to become a mere thing in the hands of the Divinity.
And thus he was at last possessed by a desire to make the supreme
experiment.

A week later the journey to Lourdes was decided upon. Pierre, however,
had insisted on a final