She, good heavens! she whom he had seen for years with
lifeless legs and colourless face! Since he had left her the day before
at the Basilica she had blossomed into full youth and beauty. One night
had sufficed for him to find again, developed it is true, the sweet
creature whom he had loved so tenderly, the superb, radiant child whom he
had embraced so wildly in the by-gone days behind the flowering hedge,
beneath the sun-flecked trees.
"How tall and lovely you are, Marie!" said he, in spite of himself.
Then Sister Hyacinthe interposed: "Hasn't the Blessed Virgin done things
well, Monsieur l'Abbe? When she takes us in hand, you see, she turns us
out as fresh as roses and smelling quite as sweet."
"Ah!" resumed Marie, "I'm so happy; I feel quite strong and well and
spotless, as though I had just been born!"
All this was very delicious to Pierre. It seemed to him that the
atmosphere was now truly purified of Madame Volmar's presence. Marie
filled the room with her candour, with the perfume and brightness of her
innocent youth. And yet the joy he felt at the sight of pure beauty and
life reflowering was not exempt from sadness. For, after all, the revolt
which he had felt in the crypt, the wound of his wrecked life, must
forever leave him a bleeding heart.
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