She was not in Lourdes, either. He would never
find her in that France so immeasurably expanded by the war that it had
converted every town into a hospital.
His afternoon explorations were no more successful. The employees
listened to his interrogations with a distraught air. He could come back
again; just now they were taken up with the announcement that another
hospital train was on the way. The great battle was still going on
near Paris. They had to improvise lodgings for the new consignment of
mutilated humanity. In order to pass away the time until his return,
Desnoyers went back to the garden near the grotto. He was planning to
return to Pau that night; there was evidently nothing more to do at
Lourdes. In what direction should he now continue his search?
Suddenly he felt a thrill down his back--the same indefinable sensation
which used to warn him of her presence when they were meeting in the
gardens of Paris. Marguerite was going to present herself unexpectedly
as in the old days without his knowing from exactly what spot--as though
she came up out of the earth or descended from the clouds.
After a second's thought he smiled bitterly. Mere tricks of his desire!
Illusions! . . . Upon turning his head he recognized the falsity of his
hope. Nobody was following his footsteps; he was the only being going
down the center of the avenue.
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