“The Lord ... hath so magnified thy name this day that thy praise shall not depart out of the mouth of men, who shall be mindful of the power of the Lord for ever; for that thou hast not spared thy life by reason of the distress and tribulation of thy people, but in the presence of the Lord our God thou hast repaired our ruin.”[[203]]
“I must die to repair the ruin,” had often been the words of Mgr. Peyramale.
At the moment of the Elevation all were kneeling except the paralyzed lady. In her powerlessness she was compelled to remain reclining, the sacred Host being brought to her where she lay.
Scarcely had she received the Blessed Sacrament when she felt in herself a strange power which seemed as if impelling her to rise and kneel, while an inner voice seemed to command her to do so.
Near to her knelt her husband, absorbed in prayer and thanksgiving after Communion. He heard the soft rustling of a dress, looked up, and saw his wife kneeling by his side.
Respect for the holy place alone prevented the exclamation of wonder that rose to his lips. Instinctively he looked towards the altar—it was at the moment of the Dominus vobiscum—and his eyes met those of the priest, which were radiant with joy and emotion. At the Last Gospel Mme. Guerrier rose without effort and continued standing. As for her husband, he could scarcely remain upright, his knees trembled so. He gazed at his wife, afraid to speak to her or to believe the testimony of his senses, while she remained praying and giving thanks in the greatest calmness and recollectedness of spirit.
The priest laid aside his sacred vestments and knelt at a corner of the altar to make his thanksgiving, with what fervor may be imagined.
The sign he had asked had been given, luminous and unmistakable, on the ninth day, when, at the Mass said by himself, the requested answer came which by an heroic act of charity he had transferred to another. Whatever may have been the joy of the recovered lady, that of the priest was greater still. His friend, the Curé Peyramale, now in heaven, had already begun to manifest his presence there, while the circumstances attending the miracle seemed to show that Mary herself took in hand the glorification of the faithful servant who had been here below the minister of her work.
Neither the Abbé Martignon nor those who had accompanied him had then paid any attention to the details of the little side-chapel into which a hand more delicate and strong than that of man had led them; and yet the stones, the sculptures, and inscriptions there were so many voices which repeated the same name. It was the first chapel on entering, and the commencement of the basilica. Under the window, on three large slabs of marble, is inscribed an abridged account of the eighteen apparitions, including the message with which Bernadette was charged by Our Blessed Lady: “Go and tell the priests that I wish a chapel to be built to me here”—a message which indicated the mission and the person of him who had dug the foundation and laid the first stone.