t she had indeed fulfilled a mission of
divine love and forgiveness? For this consummation to ensue it would
perhaps suffice that he should know her better and learn to feel that she
was really the saint, the chosen one, as others believed her to have
been.

"Tell me about her, I pray you," he said; "tell me all you know of her."

A faint smile curved the doctor's lips. He understood, and would have
greatly liked to calm and comfort the young priest whose soul was so
grievously tortured by doubt. "Oh! willingly, my poor child!" he
answered. "I should be so happy to help you on the path to light. You do
well to love Bernadette--that may save you; for since all those old-time
things I have deeply reflected on her case, and I declare to you that I
never met a more charming creature, or one with a better heart."

Then, to the slow rhythm of their footsteps along the well-kept, sunlit
road, in the delightful freshness of morning, the doctor began to relate
his visit to Bernadette in 1864. She had then just attained her twentieth
birthday, the apparitions had taken place six years previously, and she
had astonished him by her candid and sensible air, her perfect modesty.
The Sisters of Nevers, who had taught her to read, kept her with them at
the asylum in order to shield her from public inquisitiveness. She found
an occupation there, helping them in sundry petty duties; but she was
very often taken ill, and would spend weeks at a time in her bed. The
doctor had been particularly struck by her beautiful eyes, pure, candid,
and frank, like those of a child. The rest of her face, said he, had
become somewhat spoilt; her complexion was losing its clearness, her
features had grown less delicate, and her general appearance was that of
an ordinary servant-girl, short, puny, and unobtrusive. Her piety was
still keen, but she had not seemed to him to be the ecstatical, excitable
creature that many might have supposed; indeed, she appeared to have a
rather positive mind which did not indulge in flights of fancy; and she
invariably had some little piece of needlework, some knitting, some
embroidery in her hand. In a word, she appeared to have entered the
common path, and in nowise resembled the intensely passionate female
worshippers of the Christ. She had no further visions, and never of her
own accord spoke of the eighteen apparitions which had decided her life.
To learn anything it was necessary to interrogate her, to address preci