The old lady was simply magnificent
when, with her head thrown back, she seemed to defy the black and
copper-colored banks of clouds, and shook at them her Loreto bell.
I did not regret having gone with her, if only to see a symbolic
picture. At a moment when everything trembles before the approaching
horror, crouches in terror almost stupefied, faith alone has no fear;
it defies, and rings a bell. This is, from whatever side we look at
it, an element of incalculable power in the human soul.
We returned when the first thunder began to growl all around the
horizon. A few minutes later the roar became incessant. I had a
sensation as if the thunder rolled on the lower stratum of the clouds,
and the whole mass would burst at any moment and come with a deafening
crash upon the earth. A thunderbolt fell into the pond at the other
end of the park, followed by another so close by that the house
shook on its foundations. My ladies began to say the Litany; I felt
uncertain what to do; if I joined them it would be hypocrisy on my
part, and if I did not it would look as if I were showing myself off
as an ill-bred wiseacre, who cannot make allowance for country customs
and female terrors. But I was wrong; they were not afraid; their faces
were calm, even serene. It was evident that the familiar Litany was
to them a sufficient armor against all dangers, and that there was no
fear in their hearts.
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