o that they might be led and entrained like marked cattle.
And what a constant state of excitement it was, with the starting of
these fourteen special trains, in addition to all the ordinary traffic,
in which no change had been made.

Pierre arrived, valise in hand, and found some difficulty in reaching the
platform. He was alone, for Marie had expressed an ardent desire to kneel
once more at the Grotto, so that her soul might burn with gratitude
before the Blessed Virgin until the last moment; and so he had left M. de
Guersaint to conduct her thither whilst he himself settled the hotel
bill. Moreover, he had made them promise that they would take a fly to
the station, and they would certainly arrive within a quarter of an hour.
Meantime, his idea was to seek their carriage, and there rid himself of
his valise. This, however, was not an easy task, and he only recognised
the carriage eventually by the placard which had been swinging from it in
the sunlight and the storms during the last three days--a square of
pasteboard bearing the names of Madame de Jonquiere and Sisters Hyacinthe
and Claire des Anges. There could be no mistake, and Pierre again
pictured the compartments full of his travelling companions. Some
cushions already marked M. Sabathier's corner, and on the seat where
Marie had experienced such suffering he still found some scratches caused
by the ironwork of her box. Then, having deposited his valise in his own
place, he remained on the platform waiting and looking around him, with a
slight feeling of surprise at not perceiving Doctor Chassaigne, who had
promised to come and embrace him before the train started.

Now that Marie was well again, Pierre had laid his bearer straps aside,
and merely wore the red cross of the pilgrimage on his cassock. The
station, of which he had caught but a glimpse, in the livid dawn amidst
the anguish of the terrible morning of their arrival, now surprised him
by its spacious platforms, its broad exits, and its clear gaiety. He
could not see the mountains, but some verdant slopes rose up on the other
side, in front of the waiting-rooms; and that afternoon the weather was
delightfully mild, the sky of a milky whiteness, with light fleecy clouds
veiling the sun, whence there fell a broad diffuse light, like a
nacreous, pearly dust: "maiden's weather," as country folk are wont to
say.

The big clock had just struck three, and Pierre was looking at it when he
saw Madame Desagnea