In past times, especially, the most terrible disorder had prevailed.

Father Fourcade complacently recalled the first pilgrimage which he had organised and led, in 1875; the terrible endless journey without pillows or mattresses, the patients exhausted, half dead, with no means of reviving them at hand; and then the arrival at Lourdes, the train evacuated in confusion, no _materiel_ in readiness, no straps, nor stretchers, nor carts.

But now there was a powerful organisation; a hospital awaited the sick, who were no longer reduced to lying upon straw in sheds.

What a shock for those unhappy ones! What force of will in the man of faith who led them to the scene of miracles! The reverend Father smiled gently at the thought of the work which he had accomplished.
Then, still leaning on the doctor's shoulder, he began to question him: "How many pilgrims did you have last year ?" he asked.
"About two hundred thousand.

That is still the average.