"
The scene had already lasted a long time, and as they passed Riscle at
full speed the Sister again clapped her hands and gave the signal for the
chanting of the "Laudate Mariam." "Come, come, my children," she
exclaimed, "all together, and with all your hearts:
"In heav'n, on earth,
All voices raise,
In concert sing
My Mother's praise:
/Laudate, laudate, laudate Mariam/!"
Madame Vincent, whose voice was drowned by this canticle of love, now
only sobbed, with her hands pressed to her face. Her revolt was over, she
was again strengthless, weak like a suffering woman whom grief and
weariness have stupefied.
After the canticle, fatigue fell more or less heavily upon all the
occupants of the carriage. Only Sister Hyacinthe, so quick and active,
and Sister Claire des Anges, so gentle, serious, and slight, retained, as
on their departure from Paris and during their sojourn at Lourdes, the
professional serenity of women accustomed to everything, amidst the
bright gaiety of their white coifs and wimples. Madame de Jonquiere, who
had scarcely slept for five days past, had to make an effort to keep her
poor eyes open; and yet she was delighted with the journey, for her heart
was full of joy at having arranged her daughter's marriage, and at
bringing back with her the greatest of all the miracles, a /miraculee/
whom everybody was talking of. She decided in her own mind that she would
get to sleep that night, however bad the jolting might be; though on the
other hand she could not shake off a covert fear with regard to La
Grivotte, who looked very strange, excited, and haggard, with dull eyes,
and cheeks glowing with patches of violet colour.
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