Dead! The word rang through the room where a heavy silence reigned, and
the husband and wife looked at each other in amazement, bewilderment. So
it was over? The aunt had died before Gustave, and the youngster
inherited her five hundred thousand francs. How many times had they dwelt
on that dream; whose sudden realisation dumfounded them? How many times
had despair overcome them when they feared that the poor child might
depart before her? Dead! Good heavens! was it their fault? Had they
really prayed to the Blessed Virgin for this? She had shown herself so
good to them that they trembled at the thought that they had not been
able to express a wish without its being granted. In the death of the
chief clerk, so suddenly carried off so that they might have his place,
they had already recognised the powerful hand of Our Lady of Lourdes. Had
she again loaded them with favours, listening even to the unconscious
dreams of their desire? Yet they had never desired anyone's death; they
were worthy people incapable of any bad action, loving their relations,
fulfilling their religious duties, going to confession, partaking of the
communion like other people without any ostentation. Whenever they
thought of those five hundred thousand francs, of their son who might be
the first to go, and of the annoyance it would be to them to see another
and far less worthy nephew inherit that fortune, it was merely in the
innermost recesses of their hearts, in short, quite innocently and
naturally. Certainly they /had/ thought of it when they were at the
Grotto, but was not the Blessed Virgin wisdom itself? Did she not know
far better than ourselves what she ought to do for the happiness of both
the living and the dead?

Then Madame Vigneron in all sincerity burst into tears and wept for the
sister whom she loved so much. "Ah! Monsieur l'Abbe," she said, "I saw
her expire; she passed away before my eyes. What a misfortune that you