And everything remained in the water; there was no longer anything the matter with my foot when I took it out." Doctor Bonamy listened, and punctuated each word with an approving nod.
"And what did your doctor say, Sophie ?" he asked.
"When I got back to Vivonne, and Monsieur Rivoire saw my foot again, he said: 'Whether it be God or the Devil who has cured this child, it is all the same to me; but in all truth, she is cured.'" A burst of laughter rang out.

The doctor's remark was sure to produce an effect.
"And what was it, Sophie, that you said to Madame la Comtesse, the superintendent of your ward ?" "Ah, yes! I hadn't brought many bandages for my foot with me, and I said to her, 'It was very kind of the Blessed Virgin to cure me the first day, as I should have run out of linen on the morrow.'" Then there was fresh laughter, a general display of satisfaction at seeing her look so pretty, telling her story, which she now knew by heart, in too recitative a manner, but, nevertheless, remaining very touching and truthful in appearance.
"Take off your shoe, Sophie," now said Doctor Bonamy; "show your foot to these gentlemen.

Let them feel it.

Nobody must retain any doubt." The little foot promptly appeared, very white, very clean, carefully tended indeed, with its scar just below the ankle, a long scar, whose whity seam testified to the gravity of the complaint.

Some of the medical men had drawn near, and looked on in silence.