At last, at five o'clock, whilst the sun was rising, there was a sudden
awakening, a resounding entry into a large station, with porters calling,
doors opening, and people scrambling together. They were at Poitiers, and
at once the whole carriage was on foot, amidst a chorus of laughter and
exclamations. Little Sophie Couteau alighted here, and was bidding
everybody farewell. She embraced all the ladies, even passing over the
partition to take leave of Sister Claire des Anges, whom nobody had seen
since the previous evening, for, silent and slight of build, with eyes
full of mystery, she had vanished into her corner. Then the child came
back again, took her little parcel, and showed herself particularly
amiable towards Sister Hyacinthe and Madame de Jonquiere.
"/Au revoir/, Sister! /Au revoir/, madame! I thank you for all your
kindness."
"You must come back again next year, my child."
"Oh, I sha'n't fail, Sister; it's my duty."
"And be good, my dear child, and take care of your health, so that the
Blessed Virgin may be proud of you."
"To be sure, madame, she was so good to me, and it amuses me so much to
go to see her."
When she was on the platform, all the pilgrims in the carriage leaned
out, and with happy faces watched her go off.
"Till next year!" they called to her; "till next year!"
"Yes, yes, thank you kindly. Till next year."
The morning prayer was only to be said at Chatelherault. After the
stoppage at Poitiers, when the train was once more rolling on in the
fresh breeze of morning, M.
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