Might his whole life, of which they knew nought, be forgiven him; might he enter, stranger though he was, in triumph into the Kingdom of God! "_Christe, exaudi nos_." "_Ora pro nobis, sancta Dei Genitrix_." Father Massias had pulled out the silver needle from which hung a drop of Holy Oil.

In the midst of such a scramble, with the whole train waiting--many people now thrusting their heads out of the carriage windows in surprise at the delay in starting--he could not think of following the usual practice, of anointing in turn all the organs of the senses, those portals of the soul which give admittance to evil.
He must content himself, as the rules authorised him to do in pressing cases, with one anointment; and this he made upon the man's lips, those livid parted lips from between which only a faint breath escaped, whilst the rest of his face, with its lowered eyelids, already seemed indistinct, again merged into the dust of the earth.
"_Per istam sanctam unctionem_," said the Father, "_et suam piissimam misericordiam indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum, auditum, odoratum, gustum, tactum, deliquisti_."* * Through this holy unction and His most tender mercy may the Lord pardon thee whatever sins thou hast committed by thy sight, hearing, etc.
The remainder of the ceremony was lost amid the hurry and scramble of the departure.

Father Massias scarcely had time to wipe off the oil with the little piece of cotton-wool which Sister Hyacinthe held in readiness, before he had to leave the compartment and get into his own as fast as possible, setting the case containing the Holy Oils in order as he did so, whilst the pilgrims finished repeating the final prayer.
"We cannot wait any longer! It is impossible!" repeated the station-master as he bustled about.

"Come, come, make haste everybody!" At last then they were about to resume their journey.

Everybody sat down, returned to his or her corner again.