And so the relief was general when Berthaud, thoroughly annoyed with the whole business, curtly shouted to the hospitallers: "Take him out! Take him out at once!" The body was removed from the bath and laid on the stretcher, looking like the corpse of a drowned man with its sorry garments clinging to its limbs.

The water was trickling from the hair, and rivulets began falling on either side, spreading out in pools on the floor.

And naturally, dead as the man had been, dead he remained.
The others had all risen and stood looking at him amidst a distressing silence.

Then, as he was covered up and carried away, Father Fourcade followed the bier leaning on the shoulder of Father Massias and dragging his gouty leg, the painful weight of which he had momentarily forgotten.
But he was already recovering his strong serenity, and as a hush fell upon the crowd outside, he could be heard saying: "My dear brothers, my dear sisters, God has not been willing to restore him to us, doubtless because in His infinite goodness He has desired to retain him among His elect." And that was all; there was no further question of the dead man.

Patients were again being brought into the dressing-room, the two other baths were already occupied.