And it was that delightful memory which Pierre had ever carried with him, which he felt alive within him still, after so many years, and after so many painful renunciations.
Just then a more violent shock roused him from his reverie.

He turned his eyes upon the carriage and vaguely espied the suffering beings it contained--Madame Maze motionless, overwhelmed with grief; little Rose gently moaning in her mother's lap; La Grivotte, whom a hoarse cough was choking.

For a moment Sister Hyacinthe's gay face shone out amidst the whiteness of her coif and wimple, dominating all the others.

The painful journey was continuing, with a ray of divine hope still and ever shining yonder.

Then everything slowly vanished from Pierre's eyes as a fresh wave of memory brought the past back from afar; and nothing of the present remained save the lulling hymn, the indistinct voices of dreamland, emerging from the invisible.
Henceforth he was at the seminary.