garments, which on being wetted clung to the bones, outlining the
skeleton-like figure of the deceased, who floated like a man who has been
drowned. But the repulsive part of it all was, that in spite of the
/rigor mortis/, the head fell backward into the water, and was submerged
by it. In vain did the hospitallers try to raise it by pulling the
shoulder straps; as they made the attempt, the man almost sank to the
bottom of the bath. And how could he have recovered his breath when his
mouth was full of water, his staring eyes seemingly dying afresh, beneath
that watery veil?

Then, during the three long minutes allowed for the immersion, the two
Fathers of the Assumption and the chaplain, in a paroxysm of desire and
faith, strove to compel the intervention of Heaven, praying in such loud
voices that they seemed to choke.

"Do Thou but look on him, O Lord, and he will live again! Lord! may he
rise at Thy voice to convert the earth! Lord! Thou hast but one word to
say and all Thy people will acclaim Thee!"

At last, as though some vessel had broken in his throat, Father Massias
fell groaning and choking on his elbows, with only enough strength left
him to kiss the flagstones. And from without came the clamour of the
crowd, the ever-repeated cry, which the Capuchin was still leading:
"Lord, heal our sick! Lord, heal our sick!" This appeal seemed so
singular at that moment, that Pierre's sufferings were increased. He
could feel, too, that the Marquis was shuddering beside him. And so the
relief was general when Berthaud, thoroughly annoyed with the whole
business, curtly shouted to the hospitallers: "Take him out! Take him out
at once!"