"Oh yes; there's the case of Pierre de Rudder, at Oostacker, in the nineteenth century. That's the first of the series--the first, I mean, that has been scientifically examined. It's in all the old books." "What was the matter with him?" "Leg broken below the knee for eight years." "And how long did the cure take?" "Instantaneous." There was silence again. Monsignor was staring out and downwards at the flitting meadow-land far below. A flock of white birds moved across the darkening grey, like flying specks seen in the eye, yet it seemed with extraordinary slowness and deliberation, so great was the distance at which they flew. He sighed. "You can examine the records," said the priest presently; "and, better than that, you can examine some of the cases for yourself, and the certificates. They follow still the old system which Dr. Boissarie began nearly a century ago." "What about Zola?" demanded Monsignor abruptly. "I beg your pardon?" "Zola, the great French writer. I thought he had . . . had advanced some very sharp criticisms of Lourdes." "Er--when did he live?" "Why, not long ago; nineteenth century, at the end." Father Jervis shook his head, smiling. "I've never heard of him," he said, "and I thought I knew Lourdes literature pretty well. I'll enquire." "Look," said the prelate suddenly; "what's that place we're coming to?" He nodded forward with his head to where vast white lines and patches began to be visible on the lower slopes and at the foot of long spurs that had suddenly come into sight against the sunset. "Why, that's Lourdes." (II) As the two priests came out next morning from the west doors of the tall church where they had said their masses, Monsignor stopped. "Let me try to take it in a moment," he said. * * * * *