The letter had no doubt been some harsh reply, for, with bowed
head, she seemed almost annihilated, filled with the humility of some
poor beaten creature. It was only at night-time that she readily forgot
herself there, happy at disappearing, at being able to weep, suffer
martyrdom, and implore the return of the lost caresses, for hours
together, without anyone suspecting her grievous secret. Her lips did not
even move; it was her wounded heart which prayed, which desperately
begged for its share of love and happiness.
Ah! that inextinguishable thirst for happiness which brought them all
there, wounded either in body or in spirit; Pierre also felt it parching
his throat, in an ardent desire to be quenched. He longed to cast himself
upon his knees, to beg the divine aid with the same humble faith as that
woman. But his limbs were as though tied; he could not find the words he
wanted, and it was a relief when he at last felt someone touch him on the
arm. "Come with me, Monsieur l'Abbe, if you do not know the Grotto," said
a voice. "I will find you a place. It is so pleasant there at this time!"
He raised his head, and recognised Baron Suire, the director of the
Hospitality of Our Lady of Salvation. This benevolent and simple man no
doubt felt some affection for him. He therefore accepted his offer, and
followed him into the Grotto, which was quite empty. The Baron had a key,
with which he locked the railing behind them.
"You see, Monsieur l'Abbe," said he, "this is the time when one can
really be comfortable here.
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