beings, that not a week went by without Lourdes beholding the arrival of
some pilgrimage; that it was not merely France which set out on the
march, but all Europe, the whole world; that in certain years of great
religious fervour there had been three hundred thousand, and even five
hundred thousand, pilgrims and patients streaming to the spot.

* Different-coloured tickets are issued for these trains; it is for
this reason that they are called the white, blue, and grey trains,
etc.--Trans.

Pierre fancied that he could hear those flying trains, those trains from
everywhere, all converging towards the same rocky cavity where the tapers
were blazing. They all rumbled loudly amid the cries of pain and snatches
of hymns wafted from their carriages. They were the rolling hospitals of
disease at its last stage, of human suffering rushing to the hope of
cure, furiously seeking consolation between attacks of increased
severity, with the ever-present threat of death--death hastened,
supervening under awful conditions, amidst the mob-like scramble. They
rolled on, they rolled on again and again, they rolled on without a
pause, carrying the wretchedness of the world on its way to the divine
illusion, the health of the infirm, the consolation of the afflicted.

And immense pity overflowed from Pierre's heart, human compassion for all
the suffering and all the tears that consumed weak and naked men. He was
sad unto death and ardent charity burnt within him, the unextinguishable
flame as it were of his fraternal feelings towards all things and beings.

When they left the station of Saint Pierre des Corps at half-past ten,
Sister Hyacinthe gave the signal, and they recited the third chaplet, the
five glorious mysteries, the Resurrection of Our Lord, the Ascension of