ed, a lover to be
preserved, a marriage to be effected. Other letters, however, were angry
ones, taking the Blessed Virgin to task for not having had the politeness
to acknowledge a former communication by granting the writer's prayers.
Then there were still others, written in a finer hand, with carefully
worded phrases containing confessions and fervent entreaties; and these
were from women who confided to the Queen of Heaven things which they
dared not even say to a priest in the shadow of the confessional.
Finally, one envelope, selected at random, merely contained a photograph;
a young girl had sent her portrait to Our Lady of Lourdes, with this
dedication: "To my good Mother." In short, they every day received the
correspondence of a most powerful Queen, to whom both prayers and secrets
were addressed, and who was expected to reply with favours and kindnesses
of every kind. The franc and half-franc pieces were simple tokens of love
to propitiate her; while, as for the postage-stamps, these could only be
sent for convenience' sake, in lieu of coined money; unless, indeed, they
were sent guilelessly, as in the case of a peasant woman who had added a
postscript to her letter to say that she enclosed a stamp for the reply.

"I can assure you," concluded the Baron, "that there are some very nice
ones among them, much less foolish than you might imagine. During a
period of three years I constantly found some very interesting letters
from a lady who did nothing without relating it to the Blessed Virgin.
She was a married woman, and entertained a most dangerous passion for a
friend of her husband's. Well, Monsieur l'Abbe, she overcame it; the
Blessed Virgin answered her by sending her an armour for her chastity, an
all-divine power to resist the promptings of her heart." Then he broke
off to say: "But come and seat yourself here, Monsieur l'Abbe. You will
see how comfortable you will be."

Pierre went and placed himself beside him on a bench on the left hand, at
the spot where the rock sloped down. This was a deliciously reposeful
corner, and neither the one nor the other spoke; a profound silence had
ensued, when, behind him, Pierre heard an indistinct murmur, a light
crystalline voice, which seemed to come from the Invisible. He gave a
start, which Baron Suire understood.

"That is the spring which you hear," said he; "it is there, underground,
below this grating. Would you like to see it?"

And without waiting for Pi