d not make her an object of worship."

"Well, we won't say a chapel, then; but at all events there ought to be
some lights and flowers--bouquets of roses constantly renewed by the
piety of the inhabitants and the pilgrims. In a word, I should like some
little show of affection--a touching souvenir, a picture of
Bernadette--something that would delicately indicate that she deserves to
have a place in all hearts. This forgetfulness and desertion are
shocking. It is monstrous that so much dirt should have been allowed to
accumulate!"

The curate, a poor, thoughtless, nervous man, at once adopted Pierre's
views: "In reality, you are a thousand times right," said he; "but I
myself have no power, I can do nothing. Whenever they ask me for the
room, to set it to rights, I will give it up and remove my barrels,
although I really don't know where else to put them. Only, I repeat, it
does not depend on me. I can do nothing, nothing at all!" Then, under the
pretext that he had to go out, he hastened to take leave and run away
again, saying to Doctor Chassaigne: "Remain, remain as long as you
please; you are never in my way."

When the doctor once more found himself alone with Pierre he caught hold
of both his hands with effusive delight. "Ah, my dear child," said he,
"how pleased you have made me! How admirably you expressed to him all
that has been boiling in my own heart so long! Like you, I thought of
bringing some roses here every morning. I should have simply had the room
cleaned, and would have contented myself with placing two large bunches
of roses on the mantelpiece; for you know that I have long felt deep
affection for Bernadette, and it seemed to me that those roses would be
like the very flowering and perfume of her memory. Only--only--" and so
saying he made a despairing gesture, "only courage failed me. Yes, I say
courage, no one having yet dared to declare himself openly against the
Fathers of the Grotto. One hesitates and recoils in the fear of stirring
up a religious scandal. Fancy what a deplorable racket all this would
create. And so those who are as indignant as I am are reduced to the
necessity of holding their tongues--preferring a continuance of silence
to anything else." Then, by way of conclusion, he added: "The ingratitude
and rapacity of man, my dear child, are sad things to see. Each time I
come into this dim wretchedness, my heart swells and I cannot restrain my
tears."

He ceased speaking, and nei