Imagine this simple and artless child boldly confronting the commissaire, who must have been, in her eyes, a person of high dignity!  M. Jacomet plied her with questions and cross-questions, and used all his power to implicate her in some inconsistency or contradiction; but his efforts were futile, and he was obliged to confess that he could not make out any case against the child, whom he allowed to go home.  Still, his dignity required some show of authority; so he commanded Jean Soubirons that he should not permit Bernadette to go to the grotto of Massabielle, under penalty of imprisonment.  Then he wrote to M. Rouland, minister of public instruction, for advice.

Soubirons kept his daughter at home for a day or two:  then, observing her to grieve under the restraint, decided to risk the wrath of M. Jacomet, and allowed her to go where she wished.  The people upheld Soubirons, and the crowds at the grotto assembled again.  It was then proposed by some to consult Peyramale, the cure, who was known to discredit the stories of Bernadette, and it was thought might disabuse her mind of its illusions or detect her imposture, as the case might be; but Peyramale would not make any efforts in that direction.  However, Bernadette, of her own accord, came to him one day, saying she wished to speak to him.

“Are you the daughter of the miller Soubirons?” asked Peyramale.

“Yes, monsieur le cure,” she said.

“What is it you wish?”

“I came to say that the Lady who appears to me in the grotto of Massabielle—­”

“Hush, child!” interrupted Peyramale.  “Do not repeat this foolish tale to me.  You have stirred the whole country round with the story of your vision, but do not bring such tales to me.  What do you mean by this?  I tell you, child, the Virgin sees you now, and if you practice imposture the door of heaven will be for ever shut against you.”

Bernadette was in no wise disturbed, and resumed her narrative without faltering.

“What, then, is the name of your vision?” asked Peyramale when she had told him the story of her experience.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Was it the Virgin?”

“I do not say that it was the Virgin,” said Bernadette, “but I know that I see her as plainly as I see you now, and she speaks to me distinctly; and she commanded me to say to you that she wishes a church to be built on the rock of Massabielle.”

Peyramale was astonished at the strange language and the firmness of the child, and replied:  “Your story, Bernadette, is beyond reason:  still, your manner is honest.  Do not give yourself up, I pray you, to an illusion of your mind.  You have some fancy, it may be, that deceives you.  The Virgin could command me as well as yourself.  You say there is a brier growing in the grotto:  if your vision wants me to build a church on the cliff, tell her she must first cause that brier to bring forth roses in this winter season.”