“Holy Virgin of virgins, turn not thy face from thy children!”
“Holy Virgin of virgins, turn not thy face from thy children!”
“Holy Virgin of virgins, breathe upon our sores, and our sores shall heal!”
“Holy Virgin of virgins, breathe upon our sores, and our sores shall heal!”
At the end of the first bench, skirting the central path, which was becoming crowded, the Vigneron family had succeeded in finding room for themselves. They were all there: little Gustave, seated in a sinking posture, with his crutch between his legs; his mother, beside him, following the prayers like a punctilious bourgeoise; his aunt, Madame Chaise, on the other side, so inconvenienced by the crowd that she was stifling; and M. Vigneron, who remained silent and, for a moment, had been examining Madame Chaise at
