In a few seconds her legs had become straight and strong and healthy.

She crossed the courtyard and was able to climb up the steps of the chapel, where the whole sisterhood, transported with gratitude, chanted the _Magnificat_.

Ah! the dear child, how happy, how happy she must have been!" As Madame Vincent finished, two tears fell from her cheeks on to the pale face of her little girl, whom she kissed distractedly.
The general interest was still increasing, becoming quite impassioned.
The rapturous joy born of these beautiful stories, in which Heaven invariably triumphed over human reality, transported these childlike souls to such a point that those who were suffering the most grievously sat up in their turn, and recovered the power of speech.

And with the narratives of one and all was blended a thought of the sufferer's own ailment, a belief that he or she would also be cured, since a malady of the same description had vanished like an evil dream beneath the breath of the Divinity.
"Ah!" stammered Madame Vetu, her articulation hindered by her sufferings, "there was another one, Antoinette Thardivail, whose stomach was being eaten away like mine.

You would have said that dogs were devouring it, and sometimes there was a swelling in it as big as a child's head.
Tumours indeed were ever forming in it, like fowl's eggs, so that for eight months she brought up blood.