of white, curly hair, and it could be divined by his appearance that he
was a worthy man whom neither the flesh nor the spirit had ever
tormented. He believed indeed firmly and absolutely, with a tranquil
godliness, never having known a struggle, endowed as he was with the
ready faith of a child who is unacquainted with human passions. And ever
since the Virgin at Lourdes had cured him of a disease of the eyes, by a
famous miracle which folks still talked about, his belief had become yet
more absolute and tender, as though impregnated with divine gratitude.

"I am pleased that you are with us, my friend," he gently said; "for
there is much in these pilgrimages for young priests to profit by. I am
told that some of them at times experience a feeling of rebellion. Well,
you will see all these poor people praying,--it is a sight which will
make you weep. How can one do otherwise than place oneself in God's
hands, on seeing so much suffering cured or consoled?"

The old priest himself was accompanying a patient; and he pointed to a
first-class compartment, at the door of which hung a placard bearing the
inscription: "M. l'Abbe Judaine, Reserved." Then lowering his voice, he
said: "It is Madame Dieulafay, you know, the great banker's wife. Their
chateau, a royal domain, is in my parish, and when they learned that the
Blessed Virgin had vouchsafed me such an undeserved favour, they begged
me to intercede for their poor sufferer. I have already said several
masses, and most sincerely pray for her. There, you see her yonder on the
ground. She insisted on being taken out of the carriage, in spite of all
the trouble which one will have to place her in it again."

On a shady part of the platform, in a kind of long box, there was, as the
old priest said, a woman whose beautiful, perfectly oval face, lighted up
by splendid eyes, denoted no greater age than six-and-twenty. She was