Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, June 17, 1894, Page 18

THE OMAHA DAILY BEE SUNDAY + OPYRIGHT ~ BY JAMES GORDON BENNETTs 1894+ RESUME OF LOURDES. ortion of Zola's Gren Story Which Has Bern Printed. IRST DAY, pening weene ed in serial Brlof Synopsis of the ot “Lourde form In Sun- the “white ok pilgrima . g the pllgrms " young woman who for companied Froment. Abbe was ) lived at Neuilly, = Livi de Guersaint and his family. wersaint and Pierre played to- in love with each other Marle recelved an injury y total paralysis. As his wife Plerre became a CHAPTER 1 which was commren day's Bee of April gon of A ciemist next them wers Little Marie Kother, aho could never becom priest. PETAPTER 111L—The suffering In the train in intense when It stops at Poirtiers half an hour for_lunch % CHAPTER 1V.—As the train starts Sophle Cou- teau gots in, She tells the story of the cure aceorded to her disensed foot by stmply dipping it 0 the wators at Lourdes. CHAPTER V.—The abbe reads aloud a book giving the history of Bernadette, and describes The efghteen times she saw the visions in the grotto, . Lourdes s reached in the early morn fig. An (he train rolls into the station an un- known man dies. SECOND DAY, CHAPTER T.—A vivid pletire {a glven of the confusion when the Invalids are landed and Conveyed to the hospital. CHAPTER 11 —The hospital crowded. At 8 a. m. the m to the grotto starts. Father the vast Congregation to pray for o greal miracle, as the body of the man who died in the train is to be {mmersed in the pool in hopes that life will be Featored, pCHALTER 111, his old friend, or, Chassalgne. the pools. T 14 brought in and immersed No miracle occurs. On golng out T abbe finds that Marfe has been bathed with- out effect. CHAPTER 1V.—Dr. Chassaigne ccompanies the abbe to the ffureau of Certifications. Ktz Rouquet, whoss face was made hideous by a lupus, declares the sore is steadily drying up. La Grivotte, who had been in the last stages of consumption, comes rushing in, snouting, “I am cured! j CHAPTER V.—Tn thé evening the abbe visits Marie. She Is much depressed and 8 losing her faith. i &' nvalids, continuing the story of Beruad utlons fol- lowed upon U citation cheers them up js greatly over- The THIRD DAY. CHAPTER I—Pierre disco mar, devout pilgrim, has meet her lover, CHAPTER 11 that Mme, Vol- sme to Lourdes to de Guersaint monde and M. Plerre and M. meet Mme. Desagneaux, Mile. Ra. de Peyrelongue, to whom Raymonde is engaged. They visit places of interest. CHAPTER 111, o s greatly plensed by the permission obtained for her to spend a night atthe Grottor Accompanied by hor father and Plerre, she watches the magnificent torehlight procession, In which thirty thousand lighted candles are carrie: CHAPTER IV.—Plerre takes Marle to the Erotto and insists on remaining there with her throughout the night. Baron Suire, the director, takes Pierre Into the grotto and sohws him the miraculous sprin arly in the morning a heavy rain beging to fall. will_not go mway. Sho believes she as seen the virgin. THIRD DAY. CHAPTER V. Pierre walked along, fecling a need for pure air, baring his head, that seemed heavy enough to burst as the refreshing breezes swept over it. Notwithstanding the fatigue of the past terrible night, he did not care to sleep, for his whole being was alive and quivering with excitement that did not decrease. Eight o'clock struck, and as he wandered aimlessly about in the glorious matutinal sun, ihe resplendent sky, without even one cloud, looked as if freshly washed by the Sunday storm that had also lald the dust. Suddenly he lifted his eyes, anxious to know his whereabouts, and he was surprised to find how far he had gone, for he was nearly at the station, near the National hospital. He was hesitatizng which one of two roads to take when a friendly hand was lald on his shoulder. “*Where are you bound at this hour?" It was Dr. Chassaigne, his tall frame but- toned tightly in his coat, dressed entirely in_black. “Are you lost? shown the way?"” “No, no, thanks,” sald Pierre, anxiously. “I have just passed the night at the grotto with that young invalid of whom I am so fond, and I feel =0 completely unnerved that I am taking a walk to pull myself together before 1 go back to bed for a while at the Totel.” The doctor still looked at him, reading at a glance his unsettled condition and the florce struggle he was making; his despair to be made to believe; the suffering of his unsuccessful effort. ‘‘Ah, my poor boy," he murmured. Then in a paternal man- ner: “Well, as you are taking a walk, shall we g0 on together? I was just going down on this side of the Gave. Come along, and when we turn you will have a view of a Massillon_horizon.” He walked thus alone every morning for two hours in the depth of his sorrow. He went first, as soon as he was up, to kneel in the cemetery at the tomb of his wife and daughters, that he kept covered with flow- ers all the year round. Then he would go on further to calm his fears and return to breakfast perfectly worn out. Plerre gave a gesture of assent. They went down the hillside side by side, with- out sayipg a word. For a long time they were siient. That morning the doctor seemed more than usually overcome, as though the visit to the remains of his dar- lings had been more sad than ever. His aquiline nose seanied more pronounced amid his white hair and white face, while tears were still brimming over his eyes. It was such delightful weather this lovely, sunny, bright morning. Now their path led them along the right bank of the Gave, on the opposite side to the new town. The gar- dens, the ramparts, the basilica could all be seen. Then the grolto came in sight, just opposite, with the Ilumination- of its con- tinual tapers that were now dimmed by the glare of day. As Dr. Chassaigne lifted his head he made the sign of the cross. At first Plerre could not understand. Thenm, as ho per- celved the grotto to be in sight, he looked at his old friend In surprise, and again ex- perienced the wonder of the previous day to see this scientific man, an athelst and ma- terlalist, converted and believing by the stroke of sorrow, that gave rise to his solo desire to see agaln In another world his much loved and deplored ones. The heart was stronger than the mind. The solitary old man existed only in the fllusion that he would some day live In_ Paradise, where friends are met again. The young priest’s unrest only increased. Must he reach old age and endure equal suffering in order to finally discover a refuge In religion? And they walked along further and fur- ther from the town, by the river's bank. They were almost caressed by (hose clear waters, tumbling over the stones between anks planted with trees. They wero silent, walking at an even pace along the deserted road, each one lost in his own sad thoughts. - “And Bernadette,” suddenly de- manded Pierre; “did you ever know her? The doctor litted his hea “Bernadetto—yes, yes. at the last"- For au lustant he was silent. spoke: “You must know that in 1858, at the time of the apparitions, I was 30 years old, 1 was a young doctor at Paris, ‘the cnemy of anything supernatural, and I never ex- pected to return to my birthplace in these mountains simply to seo a vietim of hallu- clpations. Dut five or six years later, about 1864, T passod fthrough here, and I felt curios!ty enough to pay a visit to Ber- nadette, who was still at (he hospital with the Blue Sisters of Nervers. Plorre romembored how much he wantad 1o complete his Inquiries about Bernadette. in fact, had been ono of his reasons for coming to Lourdes. And who could telt but that pardon and grace might como to him from that adorable and humble girl on thie day sucull he oo convinced of her di- Do you require to be I saw her onee, Then he | vine mission on this earth? Perhaps it he knew her better he might really feel that u:m had been truly holy and one of the elect. “Tell me about her, I beg. Tell me every- thing you know about her.” A faint smile broke on thé doctor's lips. He understood, and longed to calm the tors turous doubts of this priest's soul. “Most willingly, my poor child. T shall ba 00 glad to help you to belleve in her. You are right to love Bernadette. I may be the means of saving you, for I have thought over all those past occurrences, and I can say to- day that T never met a more innocent or de- liclous human creature.” Then to the measure of their steps, as they went down the lovely sunlit paths In the exquisite freshness of the morning, the doctor related his visit to Bernadette in 1864. She was just twenty, and it was six years since the apparitions had been made. He was greatly surprised by her simple and reasons able manner, her ‘perfect modesty. The sls- ters of Nervers, who had taught her to read, kept her with them in the hospital, away from the public curiosity seekers. She oc cupled herself there by helping, but was so often 111 herself that she spent whole weeks in bed. What specially struck him were hex beautiful eyes, as puro as those of a child, frank and ingenuous. The rest of her face was spolled by a muddy skin and heavy features, and merely to look at her she might be just Hke any other working girl, small, thin and insignificant. Her devotion was {ntense, but she did not appear the ec- static, exalted being that she might have been expected; on the contrary, she showed a firm and positive spirit, without flights of fancy, and always had some work in her hands, efther knitting or embroidery. In one word, she was most ordinary, and resembled in no way many of the women who have been accounted holy. Never again had she seen visions, and never of her own accord did she speak of the elghtesn apparitions that had so changed her life. She had to bo questioned, and directly; then she would answer, and at once try to change the con- versation, not liking to speak of such things. When pushed still further and asked to give an idca of the nature of the three great secrets that had been conflded to her, she would cast her eyes down and cease talk- ing. It was impossible to make her contra- dict herself. All the details she had once glven remained exactly the same. She seemed to express them in exactly the same words, even the same tone of voice. “I talked to her a whole afternoon,” con- tiued the doctor, and she did not vary by one syllable. It was disconcerting. I swear she did not lie, that she has never iied and is incapable of lying." Plerre dared to discuss. “But, doctor, do you not believe in a possible malady of the will? Is it not agreed, today, that certaln persons, childishly seized by some vision, some hallucination, some kind of imagina~ tion, are unable to rid their minds of it? Above all, when living in the midst of the surroundings where the phenomena took place? Bernadette was almost cloistered; she lived so with her fixed idea that she nat- urally became saturated with it."” The doctor smiled feebly, and made a vague motion. “Ah! you ask me too much, my child! You know I am: only a poor old man, not at all proud of his science, and who does not pretend to explain anything. Yes, I know the famous example of the clinic—a young girl, who was dying of hunger at home, in. sisting that she had some serious trouble of the stomach, and who eats just as soon as taken elsewhere. But what do you want? It Is only one fact, and there are o many other contradictory facts.” For a moment they were silent. Nothing was heard save their feet treading on the path. Then the doctor continued: “It was quite true that Bernadette shunned the world and was only happy in her little, solitary corner.. She never had known an intimate friend or any special human love. She was equally gentle and kind to all, but only showed a keen affection for children. And though I must confess it, the doctor's spirit 15 not wholly obliterated from my mind, and I am sometimes disturbed to know whether she remained as virgin-like in her thoughts as she was in her body. It is possible, because her temperament was sluggish and narrow, mearly always ill, with- out taking into consideration the innocent surroundings of her youth, first at Dartres and later in the convent. Still I felt a doubt when I heard of her keen interest in the orphanage; founded by the Sisters of Nevers on this very road. Poor girls are received there and saved from the damwgers of the streets. And might she not hayve had desires while taking care of her flocks? and did she not remember that once she ran about barefooted, trembling at the thought of what she might have become had not the Holy Virgin assisted her?” He continued to relate how the crowds came to look at and venerate Bernadette. It was a most tiresome proceeding for her. Not a day passed without a host of visitors. They came from every quarter of France, even from forelgn parts; and those who were merely curious had to be separated, so that only the truly faithful ones were admitted to her—members of the clergy, people of note, who could not be shut out with decency. A nun was always present to protect her against too great indiscretions, for questions rained down and she was exhausted Dby merely the recital of her own history. —Great ladies threw themselves on their knees, kissing her gown, anxlous to take away a little scrap as a relic. She was forced to guard her beads, for every one wished to buy it at any price. A marchioness, doter- mined to prevall, offered her another in its place, with a golden cross, and the beads of fine pearls. Many hoped to see her perform a miracle, and children were brought to her to be touched. She was consulted about ill- ness, and her influence over the Holy Virgin was even solicited for money. Large sums of money were offered, and royal gifts would have been brought at the least sign from her it she would have wished to become a queen, covered with jewels and a crown of gold. The humble visitors knelt at the threshold of her door, the great ones of this world pressed into her service, and would have esteemed dt an honor to act as her escort, It was even said that one of the handsomest and richest of the princes who came asked her hand in marriage one bright April day. Plerre interrupted: “But what has always struck me and displeased me was her disap- pearance from Lourdes when only suddenly, and then to be as though im prisoned in the Convent of Saint Gildard, at Novers, from whence she never came out again, Did not that give some color to the reports that were foolishly circulated? — Did it not give riso to the idea that she had been taken away and securely shut up for fear of some Indiscretion on her part, some guileless word that would have fold the secret of the long superstition? And to call the thing by its true name, I believe myself they spirited Dr. Chassalgno shook his head softly: “No, no, In the whole matter there never was any story arranged beforehand, or grand melodrama created in the shadow, and then played by actors more or less, awaro of its purpose. The events were sel(-evident, from the sole cause of facts, and they have always been very complex, very difficult to analyze. It is certain that Bernadette was the first to suggeat leaving Lourdes. The constant vis tors wearied her, and she was ill at case in the midst of this nolsy adoration that camo o her from afa She only longed for some littlo refuge, for peace, and disinterestedue €rcame 50 omphatic that she would throw the money, on the Eround that was given to her In the hope that she would cause & mass 0 bs sald or a candle 10 be burned for the donors. Bhe mever accepted anything for herself or her family; they remained poor always. With such a proud spirit, su natural simplicity, it can be easily under- stood why she wished (o disappear and live apart, 10 prepare for & boly death. Her work was over, that extraordinary work that ghe had put in motion without knowing how or why, and she was no longer really useful, for others must carry out the plans and certify the triumphs of the grotto. et us admit that she did leave Lourdes of her own accord,” said Plerre, “but what a comfort it was for those persons of whom you speak, who from that on were the sole masters of the thousands of gold pieces that fell from the whole world.” “Certainly, I do not pretend that they wanted to_ detain her,” cried the doctor. “Frankly, I dare say that they urged her to go. She ended by becoming rather em- barrassing, not that they feared she might make any indiscreet revelations, but you must remember she was not beautiful, ex- cossively timid, and often bedridden. So that no matter how small a place she occu- pled in Lourdes, no matter how obedient sho was, she was still a great power, she attracted crowds, and that made her a rival of the grotto. In order to have the grotto alone in its glcry, Bernandette had to be removed, for she was nothing more than the legend connected with the mysteries. These were the reasons that decided the bishop of Tarbes, Mgr. Lawrence, to hasten her departure. One could only say he was wrong to take ler from the affairs of this world, as though it were po:sible that she might commit the sin of pride by yielding to the vanities connected with the holy reputation that surrounded her. It had done her a great injury, for she was as in- capable of pride as of lying; there never was a more simple, modest or charming child.” He had become greatly excited, but sud- denly ho became calm, and said again, with his faint smile: “It is true, I love her. The more I think about her, the more I love her. But, Plerre, se¢ here. You must not judge me as completely in abeyance to my bellef. It today I form one of the majority, if I had the need to believe in another better and most just life, I am still aware that there are men existing in this world, and no matter it they wear a coat or a soutane, their bur- den is just as hard to bear.” Silenco again fell between them. one had his own thoughts, then tinued: “I want to tell you an idea that has often haunted me. Suppose that Bernadette was not a simple, emphatic child; endow her with the spirit of intrigue and domineering, make of her a conqueror, a leader of the people and then try to imagine what would have occurred. Naturally the grotto would have been hers, tho basilica likewize. We should have seen her enthroned at all cere- monies on a dals, with a miter of gold. She would have distributed the miracles, her little hand would have led the crowd to heaven by a sovereign's gesture. She would have shown forth, being the saint, the elect, the one who had’ contemplated divinity face to face. In fact, it would only have been just; she must needs have been a succe:s after so much suffering, and to have re- Joiced greatly in her work. But you see she was defrauded, plundered. The re- markable seed she sowed others harvested. During the twelve years she lived at St. Gildard, kneeling in her shadowy corner, victories were being won here, priests In their golden habits chanting deeds of grace, blessing churches and monuments buiit by the money of thousands. She alone lackea the triumph of the new faith she had created. You say she dreamed it all! Ah, what a splendid dream thus to shake the whole world, and a dream from which she, the dear creature, never awoke.' Just here they stopped and sat down for an instant on a rock on the side of the road before turning back to the town. In front of them the Gave, very deep at this part, gilded its blue waters, mirrored over with dark reflections, while a little further on it ran in a shallow bed of pebbles, scarcely deeper than the froth, like white moss, as light as snow. A fresh breeze came from the mountains, and. the. sun motes danced overhead. In all this story ‘of Bernadette Pierre found nothing but a new cause of rebellion. Listening to the details, so many of which had hitherto been suppressed, he fixed his eyes on the ground and . ruminated upon the unjust laws of nature that allowed the strong to devour the weak. Then, raising his head: “And the Abbe Peyramale, did you know him, too?” The doctor's eyes said, quickl, “Yes, indeed; he was a good and strong man. A saint, an apostle! With Bernadette, he was the great founder of Our Lady of Lourdes. Like her, he suffered terribly in the cause and died for it. No one knows nor understands the tragedy that was played here unless they know all about his story.” He ‘then proceeded to give at length the tale. Abbe Peyramale was the vicar at Lourdes at the time of the apparitions. He was a large man, with broad shoulders, a leonine head, a child of the country, with quick wits, very honest, very good, but sometimes rather dominating and severe. He seemed created for action, despising all levity of devotion, yet fulfilling his ministry in a broad way. At first he hesitated, un- willing to believe the tales about Bernadette, until he questioned her and demanded the proofs. And it was omly later, when the whirlwind of faith became irresi:tible, over- throwing the most temacicus, carrying all before it, that he gave in, and he was actually conquered by his love for the poor and oppressed, for on the day that he feared Bernadette to be In danger of golng to prison, as she had all the clvil authorities against her, onc of his flock was being menaced, and his pastoral heart was wakened so that he defended her with all the ardor of passion and authority. Later the child's charm affected him; he felt. her to be so ingenuous, so truthful, that he ended by be- lieving blindly in her and loving her as the rest of the world loved her. Why hide the miracle, since it is written in all the holy books? Surely a minister of the gospel should not do so, no matter how prudent he might be, for his duty was to form strong bonds swhen entire populations were on their knees and the church seemed to be on the edge of a new and great triumph. In addition, the spirit of leadership that was in him, the guide of crowds, the power of the builder, had finally found their vocations, the vast fleld in which, they might work, the great cause by which he might give himselt wholly with all his fury and his need for victory. From that moment the Abbe Peyramale lad but a single thought—to carry out the orders that the virgin had transmitted to him through Bernadette. He oversaw the arrangement of the grotfo, glaced a grating, the water was carried in pipes from the spring and terraces were thrown up to pre- vent an overflow. But the Virgin had de- manded above all things to construct a chapel, and he wished it to be a church, a triumphant basiliea. He loocked far ahead, hurrying the architects and requiring plans worthy of the queen of heaven, confident of the enthusiastic ald of all Christendom. Gifts soon poured in from the most distant dioceses—a flow of gold that increased and neyer stopped. Those were indeed happy years. He was to be found at all times among his workmen, whom he spurred on with his cordial smiles, always ready him- self to take a pickax or trowel in his de- sire to hasten the realization of his dream. But the season of trials was at hand, He tell 11l, and was in great danger of dylng on April-4, 1864, just as the first procession started from his parish church to go to the grotto, a procession of 60,000 pilgrims, who walked amid an immense gathering The day on which Abbe Peyramale, saved for the first time from death, returned to his work he found himself dispossessed. He had already asked the bishop, Mgr. Laurence, to give him some assistance in his arduous task, and one of his former secretaries, Father Sempe, had been assigned to him. He had been made the directer-of the mjs- slonaries of Garaison, a community founded Ly himself. Father Sempe was a sm thin, cute man, of a most disinterastéd man- ner, very humble, but in reality burning with the Insatiate thirét of ambition, In the beginuing he. remalued in his place, serving the vicar of Lourdes most falth fully, looking out for his comfort, mak- ing himself useful cverywhere, anxious to become Indispensable. He at once took in the future ripe plum that the grotto was bound to become and what a colossal in- come might be drawn from It with a small amount of cleverness. He remalued at the palace and Ingratiated himself with the bistop, a cold, prastical man, who was al- Bach he con- glistened, and he ways In great need for charitable offerings. Thus it was that when the Abbe Peyramale fell fIl he was able to weparate from the parish of Lourdes the entire domain of the grotto, of which he was put In charge at the head of several fathers of the Im maculate Conception, over whom he was named the superfor by the bishop. The struggle soon commenced, one of those sullen fights, bloodthirst mortal, such as can exist undor ecclosfastical discipline. The cause for the break was there and the vat- tle fleld upon which the fight was to be made for the millions of money, in the shape of a new parish church, larger and more worthy than th old one, whose insuf- ficlent size was plainly acknowledged by the afMuence of the faithful. Besides it was an old idea of the Abbe Peyramale, who wishes to be the exact executor of the Virgin's or ders. She had gald, when speaking of the grotto They jyill come hither in pro- cessions,” and hg) liad always seen the pil- grims starting in procession from the town, to which they returped again at night, just as it had been from, tho very first. A cen- ter was thereforg «ded, a rallying point, and he dreamed of a magnificent church, a cathedral with gigantic proportions that could contain an’gutire nation. With his executive temperdment he enlisted workmen of the heavens, he already saw the founda- tion lald, the towgrs, belng raised against the sun's shadows, with their ringing bells. It was his own dwalling that he longed to build—his act of faith and adoration, the temple in which hé.would be the high priest, where he would (Griumph with the tender memories of Bernadette as against the work from which he had been dispossessed. Naturally, in his great bitterness, this new parish church was in a measure his re- venge, his glorification, a means of enforcing his military activity, the fever that con- sumed him, for ever since they had so wounded hi& spirit he had ceased to go down to the grotto. At first there was a flare of enthusiasm, and many in the old part of the town who felt put out on one side made common cause with their vicar, under the danger of seeing all the money, all the interest depart to the new town that was growing like a reed round about tho basilica, The municipal council voted a sum of 100,000 francs, which, unfortunately, was only to be pald when the church was roofed over. Abbe Peyramale had already accepted the archi- tect’s plans, a most tremendous project, un- dertaken by a contractor from Chartres, who promised to complete the church in three or four years, provided the payments were made regularly. The gifts would, of course, continue to come from all over the world, so the abbe regarded himself in this mighty affair without fear, filled with a courageous faith and believing that heaven would not give him up as he progressed. Ho even counted on the influence of the new bishop, Mgr. Jourain, who, after blessing the first stone, pronounced a touching address, in which he acknowledged the necessity and merit of the new enterprise. It almost seemed as though Father Sempe, in his ordi- nary humility, must bow and accept this disas- trous aid that would oblige him to divide, for he affected to care only about the affairs at the grotto, and had even an alms box placed in the basilica for the collection of money to benefit the new parish church then in process of construction. Once more the hidden struggle commenced. Abbe Peyramale, who was a_wretched finan- cler, rejoiced greatly to see his church grow rapidly. The work was carried on well, and he asked for nothing more, fully convinced that the Holy Virgin would pay for it some day. It was therefore a fearful shock when he finally discovered that money was slow in coming, that the gifts of the faithful no longer reached him, and it seemed as if some hidden hand had turned away the revenues. And the day came when he was unable to make the promised payments. It was all a deep laid plan, of which he only knew later. Once more Father Sempe had drawn the favor of the bishop exclusively toward the grotto. Confidential circulars to all the dioceses were even spoken of, so that no more money should be sent direct to the parish. The voracious, insatlable grotto devoured all, desired all, and things were brought to that point that when bank notes for 500 francs were placed In the alms box of the Basilica they were kept. The box was rifled, the parish robbed. The vicar in his interest for the growing church that was like a daughter to him re- sisted with violence; he would gladly have given his life. in the name of the parish; now he took them personally upon himself. He only lived to work there; his Iffe was worn out in_heroic efforts. Of 400,000 ‘francs promised he had been able to give biit 200,000 francs, and the municipal _council_ would not consent to give their 100,000 francs until they had seen the church under cover. It would be greatly against the interests of tne town. It was said that Father Sempe worked secretly with the contractors. At all events he triumphed, for suddenly the work was stopped on the parigh church, From thence it:was a long agony. The vicar, the mountain born man with broad shoulders, leoning face, was heart broken, shivered and fell like some stricken oak. He took to his bed and never got up again. Stories were told and it was said that Father Sempe attempted to see the vicar under some pious pretext to really find out if his re- doubtable adversary were actuaily wounded to death, and it was added that he was forced to fly from the sorrowful chamber, where his presence was a scandal. Then, when the vicar was dead—Killed by bitterness and quelled in spirit—Father Sempe might have been scen in triumph at the obsequies, from which no one dared to keep him. It was even said that he boasted of his abominable pleasure, and his face beamed with his triumph. At all events the only man who had been in his way had been removed— whose legal authority he had ever really feared! Now he would no longer be forced to diyide, now that the two instigators of Our Lady of Lourdes had been suppressed Bernadette in the convent, Peyramale under ground! The grotto belonged only to him— all the donations would come to him alone, and he would use according to his own de- sires the sum of 800,000 francs that were dis posed of each year. He would finish the gigantic undertakings that would make the Basilica a .whole world to himself, and he would aid the glory of the new town by di- viding it still more from tha ancient one— would relegate it behind its rock as it were, in a closed parish, completely swamped in the glories of its all-powerful new neighbor. It was a definite royalty—all the money and all the power! The new parish church, although the work had been stopped, was, howcver, more than half finished beneath iis covering of boards and the arches of the lower part were con- structed. It stood there in a sort of a men acing way, for some day it might be finished. It must be entirely undone and made an ir- reparable ruin; so the swe work continued, a marvel of cruelty, of ligering destruction From the first the new curate, a simple creature, was conquered to that degree that he did not even unfasten the gifts of money addressed to the parish. All such letters were taken directly to the fathe Then the position of the new church was criti- clsed, and a report was made by the dio- cesan architeet that set forth the old church as being quite strong and sufficiently ample for the needs of religion. But, above all, the financial Aifculties with the contractor wero impressed upon the bishop. This man Peyramale was represented to have been a violent, obstinate kind of a Junatie, whose undisciplined zeal had nearly compromised the diguity of the church. And the bishop, forgetting that he had himself Dlessed the first stome, wrote a letter, plac ing the chureh under a ban, forbldding any veligious service to be held in it, which was the culminating blow. Interminable law- suits began. The contractors, who - had only received 200,000 francs on acount of over 500,000 francs already spent on the bullding, attached the heirs of the vicar, the vestry and the town. The latter still refused to pay the 100,000 franes they had stolen. At first _the prefect’s council de- clared itself to bg dncompetent, then when the council of stefe’ returned the papers, sentencing the town to give the 100,000 francs and the heirs to finish the church, thus putting the vestry out of the case, there was an appéal‘made to the council of state that caused a stay, and this time, In glving judgment, (¥grvoairy was condemned. or, In its default,' % beirs must settle with the contractor, Nejther the one nor the other was solvef{d:0 the matter rested there, These sults lasted twenty years. The town resigned iself to pay its 100,000 francs, 8o the contractor claimed now but 200,000 francs more. But all the expenses, accumulated interésted, had increased the sum to such a state that mow it amounted up to 600,000 frames, and as 400,000 francs was the amount necessary to flnish the He had made his agreements r ! church, It was & whole million that was | Mume. de Jonguiere, in her maternal mauner. | now required to save the young ruin from certain : destruction. From that day the fathers of the grotto were able to sleep in peace. They had murdered the church and it was frrevocably dead The bells from the Basilica rang merrily Father Sompe reigned victorfously at the end of this gigantic strugele, this war to the knife, in which stones as well as men had b slaughtered in the discreet shadows of the sacristy. The people of the old town of stupld and unintelligent, bore the not having supported their own v had died for love of hix parish, that time on the new part of flourished and iner ed at the expense of the old town of Lourde All the mo went ta the former. The fathers of the Erotto cofned money, managed the ruins and candle shops, sold the water from the spring, although by a formal clause in their con- tract with the town they were forbidden to undertake any commercial business. The entire country was permeated. — The triumph of the gratto introduced such a love for flthy lucre, such a fever to pos sess and enjoy, that under thi: rain of the millions of francs, an extraordinary perve sion increased day by day, changing the Bethlehem of Bernadette to a very Sodom and Gomorrah. Father Sempe had assured tho victory of God cnly by means of human abominations and the destruction of souls. Enormous, constructions were put up all about. Five or six millions had already been spent. Everything had been sacrificed to the absolute wish to keep the parish on one side, in order to hold the prey for them- selves alone. Those huge ramparts, o ex- pensive and costly, were bullt only to elude the vow of the Virgin, who asked that pro- cessfons should come to the grotto. It surely was not a real procession, to go to the Basilica by the left rampart only to march up again ou the right hand one, It was merely going round a circle. But the fathers had succeeded that everything should emanate from them, so that they were the sole proprietors, the wealthy farmers who gleaned all- the harvest. The curate Pey- ramale was buried in the erypt of his church, unfinished and in ruins as it was Bernadette has long since passed away in the convent, where she, too, slept by this time under one of the chapel flagstones. When Dr. Chassaigne had finished this long tale a great :ilence fell on the two men Then, rising painfully, he said: “My dear child, it is nearly 10 o'clock, and I want you to take some rest. Let us 8o _back." Pierre followed him without a word. They walked toward the town rather quickly. “Yes,” continued the doctor, “there have been great sins and great sorrows experi- enced here. But what can you expect? Man always spoils his own best work. And you can scarcely imagine the awful sadress of all that T have just told you. One must see it —must touch it, so to speak. Do you care to visit the unfinished church and Berna- dette’s room this morning?” “Certainly; most willingly.” “Very well. After the procession of the fourth hour I will meet you in front of the Basilica and you can come with me.” They spoke no more. Each one was lost in_his own reveries. To the right the Gave now ran through a deep gorge, a kind of notch in which it was engulfed and almost lost to sight among the, shrubery. Here and there, however, might' be seen a clear sparkle, like unpolished silver. Then taking a sudden turn the river spread out across the plains, rushing in quick sheets that must often have changed their course, for the sand and pebbles were marked everywhere. The sun was beginning to be intense, already high in the vast sky, whose limpid blue made a circle from one side to the other of the range of hills. Just at this turn of the road Lourdes reap- peared in’ the distance before the eyes of Pierre and Dr. Chassaigne. On that lovely morning the little town looked like a white dot on the horizon, through the sunbeams of purple and gold, its houses and monuments becoming more distinct at every step. With- out speaking the doctor pointed out this growing town to his companion, as though to prove the truth of all he had just said. It was the living example, shown forth in all_the brilliancy of day. The glitter from the grotto could be seen plainly, though somewhat feeble, through the branches. Then the great buildings stretched themselves along the stone. quay, the whole length of the Gare, whose course had been turtied, the' new bridge that joined the new gardens to the recently opened boulevard and the colossal rampants, the massive church of the Rosary, the whole culminating in the spire of the Basilica proud and grace- ful. Al about them only the new town was to be seen, that at this distance looked like a swarm of white facades, a reflection like new porcelain slates. The big convents, large hotels, the prosperous town that had grown like a miracle from the puor soil of the ancient city, while behind the mass of rocks and the crumbling walls of the chateau, confused and ruined were the humble roofs of the old town, a heap of little houses caten by age, crowded fearfully, one against the other. As a background to these pro- ductions of the life of the past and the lite of the present, under the light of the glorious sun, rose the small and the great Gers, barr- ing’ the horizon with their naked flanks, that he rays of the sun turned to yellow and to rose color. Dr. Chassaigne insisted on accompanying Pierre to the Hotel des Apparitions, and when he left him there reminded him of the appointment they had made together for that evening. It was not yet 11 o'clock, and Pierre, who felt suddenly quite overcome by his fatigue, forced himself to eat something before going to bed, for he knew he must require food: Fortunately he found an empty place at the table d’hote, where he ate haif asleep, his eyes open, but scarcely knowing what was put before him; then he went up stairs and threw himself on his bed, having just strength enough left to tell the maid to call him at 3 o'clock. Once lying down, he found that the ex- citement under which he was living pre- vented him from closing his eyes. A pair of gloves, that had been forgotten in the next room, brought back M. de Guersaint to his mind, and he remembered he must have started that morning carly for Gavarine, and would be back that night. What a happy gift, to be thus without care! He felt almost too sad to live, his limbs weary with fatigue, his spirit cast down. Everything seemed to turn on his own desire to renew the faith of his childhood. The tragic his- tory of Abbe Peyramale had aggravated the feeling of rebellion already rcaused by that of Bernadette, the martyr and elect one. That truth he had come to find at Lourdes, in place of giving him relicf, was it to be changed and developed into a'greater hatred for ignorance and credulity, to the bitter certainty that man alone exists in this world with his own mind? He finally fell asleep. But fancies con- tinued to fioat through his uneasy slumber, Lourdes ruined by money, become a place of abomination and perdition, transformed into an immense bazaar where everything was on sale, masses and souls alive. Then it was the Abbe Peyramale dead and lying in the midst of the ruins of his church, among the thistles sown by ingratitude. And he only became calm and rested with some de- gree of comfort when a final vision, pale and piteous, was completely obliterated, tho yision of Dernadette at Nevers, kneeling In ber gloomy corner, dreaming of the work far away from her that she was nover to sce. Lourdes, brunt of r, who and from the town FOURTH DAY—Chapter I. In the Hospital of Our Lady of Sorrows Marle had that morning remained sitting up In her bed, her back supported by pil- lows. As she had passed the whole preced- ing night at the grotto she did not wish to return there, and as Mme. de Jonquiere ap- proached to pick up one of the pillows that had slipped down she asked her “What day 1s this, madame?" Monday, ‘my dear ehild.” “Oh, yes; one scarcely keeps a count of time, 'do they? But I am so happy, for 1 shall be cured today by the Holy Virgin She smiled divinely, like & porson still in a reverie, her eyes looking far away, absent and so completely absorbed in her fixed Idea that she could only see in the distance the certain result of her hope. The ward of 8t. Honorine was quite empty all around her, the Invalids having gono to the grotto, with the exception of Mine. Vetu, who was in the next bed, suffering agony. But Mario did not even nutice her: the sudden peace that | had fallen soothed her. One of the win dows that looked on the court yard had beon opened, and the radiant morning sun poured In, dancing Its beams on her sheets and warming her pale hands. It was such a ehange to have the mournful sights and signs of the night, the groans of the dream ers, the suffering crles from tho cots, the crowd of dirty invalids all driven out thus | by the fresh morning breezo that eutered ! with such a soft aud silent air | “Why not tr a while? sald | “You must be oxhausted after sitting up the whole night.”” Marie seemed surprised, for her light heart and brave spirit made her forget her pains. “But T am not at all fatigued nor sloepy Try to sleep! Oh, it would be too awful not to be able to remember all the time that I am going to be cured!” The directress laughed at this “Then why did you not go fo the grotte You will be sadly bored all alone In-this ) her She clasped her hands in her though to conjure up the visfon. “You know that last night 1 saw Her quite plainly bow her head and smile. I unde- stood. [ heard her voice distinetly, though sho did not open her lips. At 4 o'clock when the holy sacrament is carried past, 1 shall be cured.” Mme. de donquiere, f of excitement and might harm her, triec But she repeated “No, no, I am not worse. I am waiting. Only you can undestand, madame, that 1 do not need to go to tha grotto this morning, as tho rendezvous she has given me is at 4 o'clock.” And then she added in a lower voice: “Plerre is coming to fetch me at haif-past 3. By 4 o'clock I shall be cured The sun was slowly creeping up her naked transparent arms, so delicate and frafl, while lier beautiful blond hair, fallen on her shoul- ders, seemed liko a shimmering from the mighty orb that thus enveloped her. Tho 800K of a little bird in the courtyard made a note of brightness throughout ~the ward Somo unseen children must have been play- ing nearby, for foyous laughter was fi quently heard, coming in on the sultry air h a delicious disturbance. “Very well, then,” concluded Jonquiere, “do mot try to sleep, quite still and that will rest you. In the next bed Mme. Vetu lay dying. They had not dared to take her to the grotto, fearing she might pass away on the road. For the past few moments her eyes had been closed and Sister Hyacinthe, who was watch- ing, beckoned to Mme. Desagneaux to con- vey ler apprehensions. They both leane over the dying woman and gazed upon her with growing solicitude. Her face was now as yellow as mud, the eycs sunken, her lips drawn, but above all the rattle had recom menced in a slow and pestilential breath. poisoned by the cancer that was devouring her stomach. Suddenly she opencd her eye- lids and was alarmed at seeing the two faces bent over 5o close to her own. Was death then 50 near taht they were thus gazing at her? A fearful sadness filled her eyes, a dey spairing wish to live. It did not amount fo a violent outburst, for she had not strength enough left to make a scene; ‘but what a miserable fate, to have left her shop, her daily life her husband, to die so far away! To have endured the horrible sufferings of such a journey, to have prayed all day, all night, not to be answered, and only to dic when others were being cured! She could not help murmuring, “Oh! how I cuffer! Oh! how I suffer! 1 beseech you, do something—at least glve me some- thing that I may suffer loss!” Little Mme. Desagneaux, with her milk white skin, framed in the clustering © of her blonde hair, was quite overcome was unaccustomed to seeing disagreeable things, and would gldly have given half her heart, as she expressed it, to save the life of this poor woman. She got up and took Sister Hyacinthe aside, who, too, was in tears, but mcre resigned by thinking of the blessing of so holy a death. ~But was there really nothing to be done? Might they not try something so long as the dying woman asked them. ~That very morning, two hours earlier, Abbe Judaine had come to help her by administering the communion She had received heaven's assistance. That was the only aid on which she could count, since for a long while she had received none from mankind. No, no; we must be:tir ourselves!" cried Mme. Desagneaux. She went to find Mme. de Jonquiere, who was at Marie's bedside. “Do you hear that wretched woman suffer, madam? Sister Hyacinthe thinks she will not last more than a few hours, but we can- not let ber grcan thus and not give her something to quiet her. That young doctor is here. Why not ask him to come?” “Certainly,”” i/<wared the directress. “Get him at once.’ The doctor was seldom thought of in the wards. It was only at such moments of dire extremity that the ladies remembered there was some one near to help the suffering of the invalids. ~Sister Hyacinthe herself was surprised that she had forgotten all about Dr. Ferrand, whom she knew was in the next room, so :he asked, “Shall I go and fetch Dr. Ferrand, madam? “Of course, and bring him in quickly.” When the sister had gone Mme. de Jon- quicre got Mme. Desagneaux to assist her to raise the dying woman’s head, thinking it might help her. These two ladies were quite alone this morning, as all the other members of the hospitality had gone elther to looi about or to their devotions. At the end of the empty ward, in the midst of its peace, where the warm sun was shining, might still be heard at intervals the merry laugh of a child that could not be see “Is that Sophie making such a noise?” the directress said sternly, somewhat unnerved by the approaching disaster she could fore see. She walked quickly to the end of the ward and found that it was Sophie Conteau, the little miraculously cured girl of the pr ceding year, who was sitting‘on the floor be. hind a bed and who, in spite of being 14 years old, was amusing herself with a doll made of old rags. She was talking to it and was 5o happy, o lost in her occupation, that she laughed aloud. Stand up straight, miss. Let us sec you dance the polka now. One, two, now turn round and kiss the one you love best.” Here Mme, de Jonquicre interrupted. “My dear little girl, one of our very sickest pa- tients, who is suffering terribly, is near here. You must not laugh so loud “Oh, madame, I did not know. She stood up, holding the doll in her hand, her manner aiready very serious. “Is she going to dio, madame?” “1 fear 5o, my chil Sophle no’ longer laughed. the directress and sat down on a bed near by, looking at Mme. Vetu with bher gr eyes wide opencd, with great curiosity, vet with no expression of fear. Mme. Desag- neaux was nervously impatient because th doctor did not. come, while Marie seemed to be in such a state of cestacy, lying in her sun bath, that she was far away in spirit from all that passed about her, waiting for the miracle to be performed on herself. Sister Hyacinthe had not found Ferrand in the little room, where he usually sat, near the linen room, aud she had to look all over the house for him. The young doctor hud effaced himself more and more during the past two days, finding his ald was rarely rc quired in this extraordinary hospital. —Eve the little box of drugs he had brought had not been used; for any treatment of a diseas was not to be thought of here, since the pa- tients had not come to be cared for, but to be cured by some prodigious means; and not even his oplum pills had been called for. to lull the most intense pains of the sufferors He had been bored by making a tour of in spection with Dr. Bonamy, but It was merely a walk through the wards with a man who came to look, not to Interest hmself with the invalids, whom he neither questioned nor examined. Ho only occupled himsell con cerning pretended cures, and stopped n front of those women that he recognized as huy fng seen at his office, where the curc were . verified. One of them had three Qiseases, and up to now the Holy Virgin had Qeigned to cure but one, but they had great hopes for the other two. Sometimes a Wretched woman, who Lad heen cured the previous day, upon belng questioned as to her condition, replied that her aches had e turned, but that did not disconcert the doc tor at all, for he always explained that what heaven had begiun heaven surely terminate. 1f thero was beginuing of better health, was it gain? So his habitual phrase was rep SThis is tho beginning; be patient. he really enjoyed the most were tho quious mauners of the hospital ladics, who all wished to show him the most extraor dinary cases. Iach had her personal van ity to gratify and 10 cnumerato among tho under fier charge the greatest ilnesses, tho most awful and exeeptional cases; aml each was desirous to have them wertificd, with the eonsequent triumph to horself, This one puiled his arm, ug she w she had a caso of leprosy; ¢l sought snd told about & you Iolns were covered with fish-seale third whispered in his car most horrible d taily married woman lving in best society. Ho escaped by refusing to look ot a single onc, then promised to am not alone, madame. 1 am eos| as ing that this kind cies of somnambulism to calm the favalid Mme. de but keep She followed but not ated Wit say 8 ¢ with | It he listened to all these ladies the entirs day would be passed in glving unnecessary advice. But suddenly he stopped in front of a miraculously cured woman, beckoned to Ferrand and sald: “Ah! Hero ls an Interesting cure." Poor Ferrand, In des« pair, was obliged to listen to all the symp= toms of the discase that had completely dis« “"V“I'l»llwl upon the first immersion in the Sister Hyacinthe met Abbe Judaine at last, who told her the young doctor had just oen called down to tho family ward. = It was the fourth time he had been sent for to help the unceasing tortures of Hrother Isis dore. He could only administer oplum. In his martyrdom the poor brother asked only to be quieted a littlo, that he might be able to gain strength enough to Ko that after noon to the grotto, as he had’ been unable to get there In the morning. His suffer- Ings increased, however, and he lost con- usness. As the sister entered she 1l e doctor sitting beside'the mission= M. Ferrand, come up stairs quickly with 1o the ward of St. Honorine, whore we have a patient about to dfe He smiled at her, for he never met her without feeling cheered and comforted, “I wiil come with you, Slstor. Dut in one lllu.llh‘lfl I want to revive this poor man.® She waited patiently and made herself of use. The family ward, on the ground floof, was also flooded with sunshine and filled with pure air from the three large windows that opened on a small garden. M. Sa- bathier had alone remalued with Brother Isidore to rest a little, while Mmo. Sae bathier took advantage of th oceasion to muke some purchases—some medals and ro- saries—intended for presents. Seated happlly in his chair, his back against some cushions, he was slipping tho beads of a rosary be- tween his fingers, but he was not praying, but continued by ' sort of mechanical dis- traction, his eyes fixed upon his nelghbors, whose sad state interested him greatly, Sister,” he said to ter Hyacinthe, Who had come over to him, “that poor. ma he fills me with admiration. Yoesterday for a moment 1 doubted the Holy Virgin, a8 sho did not deign to hear me, although T have como here for soven years, and the example of that martyr, so resigned in his suffering, mado me ashamed of my lack of faith, You cannot conceive how he suffers, and to see him in front of the grotto, his eyes burning With sublime hope! It is truly beautiful. T remember a picture by an unknown Italian master at the Louvre, in which there is monk’s head spiritualized by a similar faith The intellectual side of his nature reap- peared, the old university man who former.y lived by literature and art, and in spito of his ruined mind that longed to become as a beggar, to live In a hospital and humble himself to appease the fury of heaven. He came back to his past thoughts, the wishes that seven Ineffectual trips to Lourdes had been unable to nullify. “At any rate, I still have this afternoon as we only start tomorrow. Tho water {8 very cold, but T shall be dipped just once more, and 1 have been praying all the morn- ing 0 be pardoned for my rebellious thoughts of yester: 1t only takes the Holy Virgin a sccond when she wishes to cure one of her children, does It not, Sister? Her will be dlllv\li', her name be blessed, e recommenced saylng over his a and paters, slipping the bheads more and more slowly through his fingers, while his eyelids half closed and a childish expression pervaded his vapid face that had been shut out from the world for so many yeirs, Ferrand had signed to Martha, Brother Isidore's sister. She was at the foot of the bed, her arms akimbo, gazing at the dying ‘man whom she adored, without ons tear ‘in her girlish resignation, her narrow minded view. She was like fome devoted dog. She had followed her brother, spend- ing her little all, thinking of nothiig save to ‘spare his sufferings. When the doctor told her (o take the invalid in her arms (o lft him, she was quite content to at last be of some use. Her sad, heavy face, suotted with pimplos. brighteria: : “Hold him up while 1 tr g take this." : Zrioten She lifted him, and by means of a small spoon Ferrand was able to pour a few drops of cordial between the clenched teeth. Al- most instantly the patient opened his eyes and sighed deeply. He was more calm, The oplum” was taking effect and soothed thg pain in his right hip, that was like a hot iron. But he was s0 feeble that when he tried to speak one had to place one's ear at his mouth to hear. He made a slight ges-" ture to Ferrand to bend over: . “Sir, you are the doctor, are you not? Give ‘me something to enable me to go to the grotto this afternoon. T am sure if I can get there the Holy Virgin will cure me.” - you0r course you shall g0, answored the y g man. i eel L Do you not feel better “‘Oh, much better, No, I know ve Vi what s the matter with me, for 1 hava seeh many of our order die out there in Sotisgal, The liver s toched and the ab:cesses plares through to the outside. All is over. Cold sweals are followed by fever delirium, but It the Holy Virgin s'mply touches the dis- easo with her little finger it will be cured I besocch you all that’I am taken to'tho grotto, even if I cons, HEL am unconscious at the Sister Hyacinthe had also joine " that was leaning over him. R “'Do_not fear, brother, you shall go grotto after breakfast, and we willall pene for you.” At last she was able to take Ferrand off, being now in despair over these delays and most anxious to return to Mme. Vetu. Stin the monk’s fate appealed to her, and ax hey went up the stairs she asked the doctor it there really was no hope. The latter made a gesture expressive of condemnation. It was. madness to have come to Lourdes In such a condition. He recovered himself with a smile, “I bes your pardon, sister, you know I am unfortunate enough not to bo a believer.” She smiled in turn indulg ntly, as a friend who tolerates the Impertections of bes loved ones. “Oli, that Is no matter. T know you, and what o good kort you really are. And, bos sides, we soo o many people, and are sent to care for such heathen that we should have plenty todo were we to b scandalized by it Lo Up in_the ward of St. Honorlne they found Mme. Vetu still groaning, suffering intoler~ able tortures. Mme. do Jonguiere and Mm Desagneaux were near the bed, pale and quite upset at hearing the cry of death that did not cease. When they had questioned Ferrand, whose reply was mercly to shru his shoulders, they knew the woman was doomed, that It was a matter only of hour: A perhaps minutes, All they eould do was to give her something to stupefy, to make the coming agony easier for her to b Sho looked at him, for she was still consclows and very doclle, willing to take any madicine they offered. Like all the others, her one Ionging was to return to the grotto. She batticd In a childish volce that fears it may not be leard “To the g the grotto? “They will take y$h thore prosently, T promise you,” sald Sister Hyacinthe, “but you must be good. Try to sleep a little to Eain some strength.” The invalld appeared relieved, and Mmo, Jonquiere thought It safe to take Mme, Desagnenux to the other end of the ‘ward, where they counted some linen, all of wh was not to bo found, as some towals hod dis- appeared. Sophie, sitting on the bed oppos site, bad not moved. She had placed her dolt’ on her knees, waiting for the lady to die, as they had told her she was at death's door, Sister Hyacinthe remained uear the dylng woman, and, not wishing to lose time, sho nad brought out a needle and thread to mend the bodice of one of the patients that Was worn ol in the sleeves, “You will stop w whilo with us?” Ferrand. The Vetu him to otto! WIill you not take me to sho uskQ latter continued to examine Mme, yes; she may be taken at ment. 1 fear a hemorthage." Then, as he perceived Marle In bed, he lowered his vol ‘How 1s & Is she at all Linproyed No, not yet. Ah, dear child! We are making very sincere pravers in her be 8o young, xo charming und so afficted. at just now. Ix sho not pretiy? salnt fn this sunlight, with her great 10 golden halr that looks iike 1 ligr liead any mos the noxt ali hal. Look Like o costatle ey an aureole arou Ferrand, greatly inter for u moment. She surp air, ber uncousclous passing, her ardent faith that filled soul, sl whalo L She will b mired wer Progno will bo cu He where Sistor Hyas cinthe alf 1 the enbrasure od, watehoed sed him by b a8 of all tha and ure her Ab~ was Joy her her g ax though he tion Sh then went had seatod he turn later, when he had tine. As he said,