ose humble ones who had come from such long distances should be
sent home consoled and enraptured, carrying with them a vision of
Paradise espied through its opening portals. They beheld the luxurious
surroundings of the Divinity, and would forever remain enraptured by the
sight. In the depths of bare, wretched rooms, indeed, by the side of
humble pallets of suffering throughout all Christendom, a vision of the
Basilica with its blazing riches continually arose like a vision of
fortune itself, like a vision of the wealth of that life to be, into
which the poor would surely some day enter after their long, long misery
in this terrestrial sphere.

Pierre, however, felt no delight; no consolation, no hope, came to him as
he gazed upon all the splendour. His frightful feeling of discomfort was
increasing, all was becoming black within him, with that blackness of the
tempest which gathers when men's thoughts and feelings pant and shriek.
He had felt immense desolation rising in his soul ever since Marie,
crying that she was healed, had risen from her little car and walked
along with such strength and fulness of life. Yet he loved her like a
passionately attached brother, and had experienced unlimited happiness on
seeing that she no longer suffered. Why, therefore, should her felicity
bring him such agony? He could now no longer gaze at her, kneeling there,
radiant amidst her tears, with beauty recovered and increased, without
his poor heart bleeding as from some mortal wound. Still he wished to
remain there, and so, averting his eyes, he tried to interest himself in
Father Massias, who was still shaking with violent sobbing on the
flagstones, and whose prostration and annihilation, amidst the consuming
illusion of divine love, he sorely envied. For a moment, moreover, he
questioned Berthaud, feigning to admire some banner and requesting
information respecting it.

"Which one?" asked the superintendent of the bearers; "that lace banner
over there?"

"Yes, that one on the left."

"Oh! it is a banner offered by Le Puy. The arms are those of Le Puy and
Lourdes linked together by the Rosary. The lace is so fine that if you
crumpled the banner up, you could hold it in the hollow of your hand."

However, Abbe Judaine was now stepping forward; the ceremony was about to
begin. Again did the organs resound, and again was a canticle chanted,
whilst, on the altar, the Blessed Sacrament looked like the sovereign
planet amidst the sc