childish faith; and at sight of it you instinctively thought of the
little white arm, the little thin hand of the puny girl, who had here
pointed to Heaven in the crisis of her human sufferings. You could not
see the Grotto, the entrance of which was on the left, at the base of the
rock. Beyond the Basilica, the only buildings which caught the eye were
the heavy square pile where the Fathers of the Immaculate Conception had
their abode, and the episcopal palace, standing much farther away, in a
spreading, wooded valley. And the three churches were flaming in the
morning glow, and the rain of gold scattered by the sun rays was sweeping
the whole countryside, whilst the flying peals of the bells seemed to be
the very vibration of the light, the musical awakening of the lovely day
that was now beginning.

Whilst crossing the Place du Rosaire, Pierre and Marie glanced at the
Esplanade, the public walk with its long central lawn skirted by broad
parallel paths and extending as far as the new bridge. Here, with face
turned towards the Basilica, was the great crowned statue of the Virgin.
All the sufferers crossed themselves as they went by. And still
passionately chanting its canticle, the fearful /cortege/ rolled on,
through nature in festive array. Under the dazzling sky, past the
mountains of gold and purple, amidst the centenarian trees, symbolical of
health, the running waters whose freshness was eternal, that /cortege/
still and ever marched on with its sufferers, whom nature, if not God,
had condemned, those who were afflicted with skin diseases, those whose
flesh was eaten away, those who were dropsical and inflated like
wine-skins, and those whom rheumatism and paralysis had twisted into
postures of agony. And the victims of hydrocephalus followed, with the
dancers of St. Vitus, the consumptives, the rickety, the epileptic, the
cancerous, the goitrous, the blind, the mad, and the idiotic. "Ave, ave,
ave, Maria!" they sang; and the stubborn plaint acquired increased