THE repairs of M. de Lafitte’s mill had been completed, and the mill-stream restored to its usual channel, so that it was impossible to reach their place of destination by Ile du Chalet, as had been the case on the former occasion. It was necessary to scale the side of the Espélugnes, taking a miserable road which led to the forest of Lourdes, and then descend by a breakneck path to the Grotto, in the midst of the rocks and steep and sandy declivity of Massabielle.
Bernadette’s companions were somewhat afraid on meeting these unexpected difficulties. She herself, on the contrary, on reaching the place felt her heart thrill, and was impatient to arrive at the Grotto. It seemed to her as if some invisible being bore her along and lent her unwonted energy. Though usually so frail, she felt herself strong at that moment. Her step became so rapid in ascending the hill, that Antoinette and Madame Millet, strong and young as they were, experienced some difficulty in following her. Her asthma which usually obliged her to walk slowly, seemed for the moment to have disappeared. She was neither out of breath nor tired when she reached the summit. While her companions were bathed with perspiration, her visage was calm and tranquil. She descended the rocks, though for the first time in her life, with the same ease and activity, being conscious as it were of some invisible supporter by whom she was guided and sustained. On these almost peaked declivities, in the midst of these rolling stones, on the edge of the abyss, her step was as firm and fearless as if she had been walking on the broad and level surface of a high-road. Madam Millet and Antoinette did not venture to follow her at this, to them, impossible pace, but descended slowly and cautiously, as was indeed necessary in so perilous a path.
Bernadette accordingly reached the Grotto a few moments before them. She prostrated herself and commenced to recite her chaplet, gazing at the same time on the niche, festooned with the branches of the wild rose, which was still empty.
All at once she uttered a cry. The well-known brilliancy of the aureola began to shed its rays within the cavern. A voice, which called her, became audible. The marvelous apparition stood there once more a few paces above her. The admirable Virgin inclined her head, all-luminous with eternal serenity, toward the child, and with a motion of her hand signed to her to draw near.
Just at this moment Bernadette’s two companions, Antoinette and Madame Millet, arrived, after having gone through the most painful exertions. They perceived the features of the child to be in a state of ecstatic transfiguration.
She heard and saw them.
“She is there,” she said. “She makes a sign for me to advance.”
“Ask her if she is angry at our being with you. Should such be the case, we will retire.”
Bernadette regarded the Virgin, invisible to all save herself, listened for a moment and turned again toward her companions.
“You may remain,” she answered.
The two women kneeled down by the side of the child and lighted a wax taper which they had brought with them.
It was doubtless the first time since the creation of the world that a light of the kind had shone in this wild spot. This act so simple, which seemed to inaugurate a sanctuary, had in itself a mysterious solemnity.
Under the supposition that the Apparition was divine, this sign of visible adoration, this lowly little flame lighted by two poor country women, would never more be extinguished, but would increase in volume from day to day through the long series of future ages. In vain would the breath of incredulity exhaust itself in efforts, in vain would the storm of persecution arise; this flame, fed by the faith of the people would continue to mount towards the throne of God, steady and inextinguishable. While these rustic hands, doubtless unconscious of the importance of the act, lighted the flame for the first time with so much simplicity in this unknown grotto in which a child was praying, the dawn, first of silvery whiteness, had assumed successively golden and purple tints, and the sun, which despite the clouds, was shortly to inundate the earth with his light, began to appear from behind the crest of the mountains.
Bernadette in an ecstacy of delight contemplated the faultless beauty. Tota pulchra es, amica mea, et macula non est in te.
Her companions addressed themselves to Bernadette afresh.
“Advance towards Her since She calls you and makes signs to you. Approach. Demand from Her who she is, and why She comes here? Is it a soul from Purgatory that entreats for prayers and would have Masses said for it? Beg her to write on this piece of paper what She wishes. We are disposed to do all she desires, all that may be necessary for her repose.”
The youthful Seer took the paper, pen and ink handed to her and advanced toward the Apparition, who seeing her approach encouraged her with a Mother’s glance.
However, at each step which the child took, the Apparition drew back by degrees into the interior of the cavern. Bernadette lost sight of her for a moment and entered under the vault of the grotto from below. There, always above her but much nearer in the opening of the niche, she saw again the radiant Virgin.
Bernadette, holding in her hands the writing materials which had just been given her, stood on tiptoe in order to be able to reach with her tiny arms the height where the supernatural Being was standing.
Her two companions also advanced with the object of trying to hear the conversation about to be engaged in. But Bernadette without turning and apparently in obedience to a gesture of the Apparition, signed to them with her hand not to approach. Covered with confusion they retired a little on one side.
“O Lady,” said the child, “if you have anything to communicate to me, would you have the kindness to inform me in writing who you are and what you desire?
The divine Virgin smiled at this simple request. Her lips opened and she spoke.
“There is no occasion,” she replied, “to commit to writing what I have to tell you. Only do me the favor to come here every day for fifteen days.”
“I promise you this,” exclaimed Bernadette.
The Virgin smiled anew and made a sign of being satisfied, thereby showing her entire confidence in the word of this poor peasant-girl who was but fourteen years old.
She knew that the little shepherd-girl of Bartrès was like those pure children whose fair heads Jesus loved to caress, saying: “Of such is the kingdom of heaven.”
She also replied to the promise of Bernadette by a solemn engagement.
“And I,” she said, “I promise to render you happy, not in this but in the other world.”
Bernadette, without losing sight of the Apparition, returned to her companions.
She remarked that the Virgin while She followed her Herself with Her eyes, suffered Her gaze to remain for upwards of a moment with an expression of kindness on Antoinette Peyret, the unmarried one of the two, who was a member of the Congregation of the Children of Mary. She repeated to them what was passing.
“She is gazing on you at this moment,” said the youthful Seer to Antoinette.
The latter was deeply impressed by these words, and since that time has been living on this souvenir.
“Ask Her,” said they, “if it would be displeasing to Her if we were to accompany you here every day during the fifteen days?”
Bernadette put the question to the Apparition.
“They may return with you,” replied the Virgin, “and others besides. I desire to see many persons here.”
In saying these words she disappeared, leaving behind her that luminous brightness which had surrounded her, and which itself vanished by degrees.
On this as on other occasions the child remarked a peculiarity which seemed to be as it were the law of the aureole with which the Virgin was constantly surrounded.
When the vision takes place,” she said in her way of speaking, “I see the light first and then the ‘Lady’; when the vision ceases it is the ‘Lady’ that disappears first and the light afterwards.”
