y heart swells and I cannot restrain my
tears."

He ceased speaking, and neither of them said another word, both being
overcome by the extreme melancholy which the surroundings fostered. They
were steeped in gloom. The dampness made them shudder as they stood there
amidst the dilapidated walls and the dust of the old rubbish piled upon
either side. And the idea returned to them that without Bernadette none
of the prodigies which had made Lourdes a town unique in the world would
have existed. It was at her voice that the miraculous spring had gushed
forth, that the Grotto, bright with candles, had opened. Immense works
were executed, new churches rose from the ground, giant-like causeways
led up to God. An entire new city was built, as if by enchantment, with
gardens, walks, quays, bridges, shops, and hotels. And people from the
uttermost parts of the earth flocked thither in crowds, and the rain of
millions fell with such force and so abundantly that the young city
seemed likely to increase indefinitely--to fill the whole valley, from
one to the other end of the mountains. If Bernadette had been suppressed
none of those things would have existed, the extraordinary story would
have relapsed into nothingness, old unknown Lourdes would still have been
plunged in the sleep of ages at the foot of its castle. Bernadette was
the sole labourer and creatress; and yet this room, whence she had set
out on the day she beheld the Virgin, this cradle, indeed, of the miracle
and of all the marvellous fortune of the town, was disdained, left a prey
to vermin, good only for a lumber-room, where onions and empty barrels
were put away.

Then the other side of the question vividly appeared in Pierre's mind,
and he again seemed to see the triumph which he had just witnessed, the
exaltation of the Grotto and Basilica, while Marie, dragging her little
car, ascended behind the Blessed Sacrament, amidst the clamour of the
multitude. But the Grotto especially shone out before him. It was no
longer the wild, rocky cavity before which the child had formerly knelt
on the deserted bank of the torrent; it was a chapel, transformed and
enriched, a chapel illumined by a vast number of candles, where nations
marched past in procession. All the noise, all the brightness, all the
adoration, all the money, burst forth there in a splendour of constant
victory. Here, at the cradle, in this dark, icy hole, there was not a
soul, not a taper, not a hymn, not a