Farther
away stood the great mill, and grimly from its rocky seat frowned
the ancient castle, of which the people of Lourdes never wearied of
telling that it had been besieged by Charlemagne centuries ago. In the
distance glanced the river Gave, fighting its rock-riven way to the
sea. The prospect, growing continually more grand as it receded, was
finally hedged about by the majestic Pyrenees, which lifted their
glimmering snows against the pale winter sky.
But Madame Soubirons was familiar with these scenes, and had no eyes
for them. She sat leaning her cheek upon her hand, and as she glanced
down the crooked walk she murmured, "They have had time to get back,
if they hurried as I charged them." Presently a cheery whistle rang
out upon the air, and looking up she saw a man in miller's dress
approaching. It was Jean Soubirons, her husband, coming home to
dinner. She waited until he arrived, and they then went into the
house together.
"Can you eat a cold dinner to-day, Jean?" she asked. "I have only
bread and milk to give you."
"Yes, with thanks, Louise," he replied; "but where are Bernadette and
Marie?"
"They went with Jeanne Abadie to gather fagots, but they should have
been back long since. You might then have had a warm dinner."
"All is well if they come to no harm, but it is somewhat chilly for
our Bernadette.
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