"
At this moment the telegraph bells rang out and a porter rushed away into
the darkness swinging a lantern, whilst a distant signal began to work.
Thereupon the station-master resumed: "Ah! this time it's the white
train. Let us hope we shall have time to get the sick people out before
the express passes."
He started off once more and disappeared. Berthaud meanwhile called to
Gerard, who was at the head of a squad of bearers, and they both made
haste to join their men, into whom Baron Suire was already instilling
activity. The bearers flocked to the spot from all sides, and setting
themselves in motion began dragging their little vehicles across the
lines to the platform at which the white train would come in--an unroofed
platform plunged in darkness. A mass of pillows, mattresses, stretchers,
and litters was soon waiting there, whilst Father Fourcade, Dr. Bonamy,
the priests, the gentlemen, and the officer of dragoons in their turn
crossed over in order to witness the removal of the ailing pilgrims. All
that they could as yet see, far away in the depths of the black country,
was the lantern in front of the engine, looking like a red star which
grew larger and larger. Strident whistles pierced the night, then
suddenly ceased, and you only heard the panting of the steam and the dull
roar of the wheels gradually slackening their speed. Then the canticle
became distinctly audible, the song of Bernadette with the ever-recurring
"Aves" of its refrain, which the whole train was chanting in chorus.
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