Reflecting on these considerations, I directed my steps toward the house of my confessor, the Abbé Ferrand de Missol, who lived quite near me. I felt certain of finding him in, for it was Friday, and he is always at home on that day. So indeed he was upon this occasion.
But several persons were waiting to see him, whose turn would naturally come before mine. Some member of his family had just arrived on an unexpected visit. His servant informed me of all this, and asked me to call again in the evening about seven o'clock.
I resigned myself to my lot.
As I came to the street-door, I paused for an instant. I wavered between the desire of paying a visit which I had greatly at heart and the thought of returning home to pray. I was very much inclined to the distraction, but finally the good inspiration carried the day, and I returned toward the Rue Seine.
I took from the porter the little box, to which was attached a notice of the apparition at Lourdes, and, with both in my hand, I hastened up-stairs. On reaching my room, I knelt down at my bedside and prayed, all unworthy as I was to turn my eyes toward heaven. Then I arose. On entering, I had placed the little box and the pamphlet upon the mantelpiece. I gazed a moment upon the little case which contained the mysterious water, and it seemed to me that some great event was about to transpire in this lonely chamber. I feared to touch with impure hands the wood which contained this hallowed water, and yet, on the other hand, I felt a lively desire to open it at once, and not wait until after I had been to confession. This indecision lasted for a few moments, and ended with this prayer:
"O my God! I am a wretched sinner, unworthy of raising my voice to you, or of touching that which you have blessed. But this very excess of misery ought to excite your compassion. My God, I come to you and to the Most Blessed Virgin Mary, full of faith and reliance upon you, and from the depths I cry to you. This evening I will confess my sins to your minister, but my faith will not suffer me to wait. Pardon me, Lord, and heal me. And you, O Mother of Mercy! come to the help of your unhappy child!"
And, feeling strengthened by my prayer, I opened the box. It contained a bottle of pure water. I uncorked it, poured some of the water into a glass, and took a napkin from the drawer.
These commonplace preparations, which I made with care, were accompanied by a secret solemnity, the memory of which still haunts me. In that room I was not alone. God was there certainly; and the Blessed Virgin, whom I had invoked, was also there.
Ardent faith inflamed my soul. When all was ready, I knelt down again. "O Blessed Virgin Mary!" I cried in a loud voice, "heal my physical and spiritual blindness." Saying these words, with a heart full of confidence, I bathed successively both eyes and my forehead with the napkin which I had dipped in the water. This did not occupy more than half a minute.
Judge of my astonishment—I had almost said my terror! Scarcely had I touched my eyes and forehead with the miraculous water than I felt myself cured, at once, without transition, with a suddenness which I can compare only to lightning.