No reply was forthcoming to this remark, the reason being that, having undertaken to note down the words attributed by Honorine to the Blessed Virgin, Madame de Brécé very soon stopped doing so: the child’s expressions were not nice. Besides, M. le Curé Traviès, who was in the habit of shooting rabbits every evening in the woods of Lénonville, had too often surprised Isidore and Honorine lying among the dead leaves to be any longer in doubt as to why they were there. M. Traviès was something of a poacher, but both his morals and his doctrine were sound. He gathered from repeated observations that it was hardly likely the Blessed Virgin would appear to Honorine. He had spoken on the matter to the ladies of the castle, who were, if not convinced, at least somewhat perplexed. So when M. Lerond asked them for details of the latest ecstasies, they changed the subject. “If you care to hear news from Lourdes,” said the dowager duchess, “we have some.” “My nephew writes me that many miracles take place in the grotto,” said M. de Brécé. “I have heard the same thing from one of my officers,” replied the General. “He is a promising young fellow, and has come back amazed at the wonderful things he saw there.” “You know that the doctors in attendance at the piscina report the most miraculous cures?” said the Duke. “We do not need the opinion of learned men to make us believe in miracles,” said Madame de Brécé with a limpid smile. “I have far more confidence in the Blessed Virgin than in any doctors.” They then began to talk of the Affair, amazed, so they said, that the “syndicate of treachery” should continue its audacious manifestations unpunished. With much emphasis the Duke expressed himself as follows: “When two courts martial have given their verdict, the smallest doubt can no longer exist.” “Have you heard,” said Madame Jean, “that Mademoiselle Deniseau, the local prophetess, has learned from the mouth of St. Radegonde herself that Zola is going to become a naturalized Italian, and will not return to France?” This prophecy was received with much favour. A servant entered, bringing the letters. “Perhaps there will be some news of the war,” said the Duke, opening a paper. And in dead silence he read the following: “Commodore Dewey has destroyed the Spanish fleet in the port of Manilla. The Americans have not lost a man.” This telegram caused much depression in the drawing-room. The only person who continued to look confident was Madame de Courtrai, who cried: “It’s not true!” “The telegram,” said M. Lerond, “is an American one.” “Yes,” said M. de Brécé, “we must beware of false news.”