Then they took dinner in the
carriage, for there would be no stopping until they reached Bordeaux,
where they would only arrive at eleven o'clock at night. All the
pilgrims' baskets were crammed with provisions, to say nothing of the
milk, broth, chocolate, and fruit which Sister Saint-Francois had sent
from the cantine. Then, too, there was fraternal sharing: they sat with
their food on their laps and drew close together, every compartment
becoming, as it were, the scene of a picnic, to which each contributed
his share. And they had finished their meal and were packing up the
remaining bread again when the train passed Morceux.
"My children," now said Sister Hyacinthe, rising up, "the evening
prayer!"
Thereupon came a confused murmuring made up of "Paters" and "Aves,"
self-examinations, acts of contrition and vows of trustful reliance in
God, the Blessed Virgin, and the Saints, with thanksgivings for that
happy day, and, at last, a prayer for the living and for the faithful
departed.
"I warn you," then resumed the Sister, "that when we get to Lamothe, at
ten o'clock, I shall order silence. However, I think you will all be very
good and won't require any rocking to get to sleep."
This made them laugh. It was now half-past eight o'clock, and the night
had slowly covered the country-side.
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