And now she became afraid at no longer hearing her moan, at seeing
her so white, with staring eyes and open mouth, without a sign of life.
How was it that she did not smile if she were cured? Suddenly a loud
heart-rending cry rang out, the cry of the mother, surpassing even the
din of the thunder in the storm, whose violence was increasing. Her child
was dead. And she rose up erect, turned her back on that deaf Virgin who
let little children die, and started off like a madwoman beneath the
lashing downpour, going straight before her without knowing whither, and
still and ever carrying and nursing that poor little body which she had
held in her arms during so many days and nights. A thunderbolt fell,
shivering one of the neighbouring trees, as though with the stroke of a
giant axe, amidst a great crash of twisted and broken branches.
Pierre had rushed after Madame Vincent, eager to guide and help her. But
he was unable to follow her, for he at once lost sight of her behind the
blurring curtain of rain. When he returned, the mass was drawing to an
end, and, as soon as the rain fell less violently, the officiating priest
went off under the white silk umbrella embroidered with gold. Meantime a
kind of omnibus awaited the few patients to take them back to the
hospital.
Marie pressed Pierre's hands. "Oh! how happy I am!" she said. "Do not
come for me before three o'clock this afternoon."
On being left amidst the rain, which had now become an obstinate fine
drizzle, Pierre re-entered the Grotto and seated himself on the bench
near the spring.
Pages:
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435