What was about to take place at Lourdes? What would happen at the grotto? What would be done by Bernadette, whose every movement was watched by the Argus eyes of Jacomet and of his agents? Would not the fountain at the grotto disappear in the coming hot weather, and thus put an end to the whole business? What attitude would the people assume? Such were the hopes and anxieties of the Baron Massy, imperial prefect.
At the grotto the miraculous fountain continued to flow, abundant and clear, with that character of quiet perpetuity which is generally found in springs coming from the rock.
The supernatural apparition did not cease to assert its existence, and to prove it by benefits conferred.
The grace of God continued to descend visibly and invisibly upon the people, sometimes quick as the lightning which flashes through the clouds, sometimes gradual like the light of dawn.
We can only speak of those graces which were external and manifest.
At six or seven kilometres (four miles) from Lourdes, at Loubajac, lived a good woman, a peasant, who had formerly been accustomed to labor, but whom an accident had for eighteen months past reduced to a most painful inaction. Her name was Catherine Latapie-Chouat. In October, 1856, having climbed an oak to knock down some acorns, she had lost her balance, and suffered a violent fall, which caused a severe dislocation of the right arm and hand. The reduction--as is stated in the report and the official statement, which are now before us--though performed immediately by an able surgeon, and though it nearly restored the arm to its normal state, had nevertheless not prevented an extreme weakness in it. The most intelligent and continuous treatment had been ineffectual in removing the stiffness of the three most important fingers of the hand. The thumb and first two fingers remained obstinately bent and paralyzed, so that it was impossible either to straighten them or to enable them to move in the least. The unfortunate peasant, still young enough for much labor, for she was hardly thirty-eight, could not sew, spin, knit, or take care of the house. The doctor, after having treated her case for a long time without success, had told her that it was incurable, and that she must resign herself to give up the use of that hand. This sentence, from such a reliable authority, was for the poor woman the announcement of an irreparable misfortune. The poor have no resource but work; for them compulsory inaction is inevitable misery.