The Abbé Guitrel went on to enumerate the miracles accomplished from the sixth century up to the present time by the intervention of Notre-Dames-des-Belles-Feuilles, who was in particular request for the cure of diseases of the respiratory organs and the lungs. And he further affirmed that in 1871 she had turned the Germans aside from the town and miraculously healed of their wounds two soldiers quartered at the château of Brécé, which had been turned into a hospital.
They reached the bottom of a narrow valley with a stream flowing between moss-grown stones. On an irregular platform of sandstone, surrounded by dwarf oak trees, rose the oratory of Notre-Dame-des-Belles-Feuilles, newly constructed from the plans of M. Quatrebarbe, the diocesan architect, in that modern namby-pamby style which people fondly imagine to be Gothic.
“This oratory,” said the Abbé Guitrel, “was burned down in 1559 by the Calvinists, and again in 1793 by the revolutionaries, and nothing remained but a mass of ruins. Like another Nehemiah, the Duc de Brécé has rebuilt the sanctuary. The Pope, this year, has granted to it numerous indulgences, no doubt with the object of quickening the worship of the Blessed Virgin in this country. Monseigneur Charlot himself celebrated the Holy Eucharist here, and since then pilgrims have flocked to the shrine. They come from all parts of the diocese, and even farther. There is no doubt that such co-operation and zeal must draw special blessings on the country. I myself had the felicity of bringing to the feet of la Vierge des Belles-Feuilles several respectable families of the Tintelleries. And, with the permission of the Duke, I have more than once celebrated Mass at this favoured altar.”
“That is true,” said the Duchess. “And it is noticeable that the Abbé takes more interest in our chapel than the Curé of Brécé himself.”
“Good M. Traviès!” said the Duke. “He is an excellent priest, but an inveterate sportsman, and all he thinks of is shooting. The other day, on returning from the administration of extreme unction to a dying man, he brought down three partridges.”
“Now that the branches are devoid of leaves,” said the Abbé, “you can see the chapel, which, in the summer, is entirely hidden by the thick foliage.”
“One of the reasons which made me determine to rebuild the chapel of Notre-Dame-des-Belles-Feuilles,” said the Duke, “was that on examining the family archives, I found that the battle-cry of the Brécés was ‘Brécé Notre-Dame!’”
“How very strange!” remarked General Cartier de Chalmot.
“Is it not?” replied Madame de Brécé.