Since she was certain of it, would she not assuredly be cured?
However, it was in vain that he sought for words of prayer in the depths of his distracted being.

He was still under the blow of all the terrible things that he had beheld, worn out with physical fatigue, his brain depressed, no longer knowing what he saw or what he believed.

His desperate affection for Marie alone remained, making him long to humble himself and supplicate, in the thought that when little ones really love and entreat the powerful they end by obtaining favours.
And at last he caught himself repeating the prayers of the crowd, in a distressful voice that came from the depths of his being "Lord, heal our sick! Lord, heal our sick!" Ten minutes, a quarter of an hour perhaps, went by.

Then Marie reappeared in her little conveyance.

Her face was very pale and wore an expression of despair.