The bishop's long face darkened. "Press conference? What are you saying? When you spoke to me of seeing the press, I assumed you were arranging for me to meet with a half dozen reporters at most. But a press conference—"
"I'm sorry I was misunderstood," said Father Ruland. "But we had no way of limiting it—"
"I don't like circuses," the bishop growled.
"Your Excellency," Father Ruland continued, unruffled, "the world press is here in great numbers for the same reason we are here, to await the miraculous return of the blessed Holy Mother."
"No member of the international press could be denied," added Michelle. "We could not show favoritism in the invitations."
Jamet moved closer to the bishop. "Your Excellency, not only do those newspaper and magazine reporters deserve to know what is expected at the grotto, so that they can write about it, but they will write about Lourdes as well. The eyes of the entire civilized world are on Lourdes this week. The well-being of our town, our shrine, depends
very much on your cooperation. What the press reports will help sustain the town of Lourdes as well as of the domain itself."
The bishop grunted, and spoke to Michelle. "Who's out there? Where are those people from?" he demanded.
"From everywhere and the most important," said Michelle. "International television reporters, of course, but no cameras in accordance with our policy. Also newspaper and magazine reporters from the Times in New York and the Times of London. Reporters from Der Spiegel of Hamburg, Afionbladet of Stockholm, La Prensa of Buenos Aires, Asahi Shimbun of Tokyo, La Stampa of Turin, Newsweek of New York, our own Le Figaro of Paris. There is even a priest-informer—as the Vatican calls its reporters—here to cover this for L'Osservatore Romano."
Mention of Vatican City's own semiofficial newspaper seemed to affect the bishop favorably. "Well, now, perhaps I should start with a personal statement about the impending Reappearance."
"Not necessary. Your Excellency," said Father Ruland. "I'll lead you out onto the rostrum and introduce you. Then I will request the members of the press to raise their hands if they have questions. You will point to certain reporters at random, and each will rise and pose a question. You will answer as briefly or as fully as you desire. I warn you, some of the questions may not be worthy of reply, but—"
"Never mind," said the bishop. "How much time am I expected to give them?"
"A half hour or so will do," said Father Ruland. "Longer only if you wish. At any rate, I'll approach the lectern at the end of a half hour."
The bishop fingered the pectoral cross on his chest. "Very well," he said gruffly, "let's go in and get it over with."
Liz Finch, wearing her pale-blue linen suit, sat expectantly in the second row of the auditorium, open notebook in her lap, pencil in her hand, waiting as the good-looking priest, Father Ruland, finished his introduction of the bishop of Tarbes and Lourdes.
"Now His Excellency will reply to your questions," announced Father Ruland over the microphone. "Those of you with questions, please raise your hands to be acknowledged. When you are addressed, please rise, give your affiliation, and state your questions as clearly and briefly as possible. Ladies and gentlemen, I turn the conference over to the bishop of Tarbes and Lourdes."
Father Ruland stepped aside and gracefully retreated to the background, and Liz watched the bishop, a towering warhorse bedecked in black robe and gold cross tramp to the microphone at the lectern.
As hands began to shoot up around the crowded auditorium, Liz kept her own hands resting on her notebook. She had only one question to ask, and it would be best to save it for the end, when most of the pious nonsense was over with.
The bishop was pointing to a man in the front row. The man came to his feet. 'Toronto Star of Canada," he said. "Your original announcement was that the Virgin Mary would reappear in Lourdes between August 14 and 22. Here we are on the morning of August 16. How would we know if she had already been seen?"
"The event would have been annoimced immediately after it occurred. Obviously, it has not occurred yet."
Another man, next to the Canadian, had raised his hand and was already on his feet. "But you are certain the Virgin Mary will reappear here during one of the last five days of The Reappearance Time?" He added, "Die Welt of Hamburg."
The bishop offered a bleak smile. "Since the Virgin confided the approximate date of Her return to Saint Bernadette, I feel certain that the Virgin will keep Her word."
"But perhaps Bernadette miscalculated?"
"No," the bishop replied, "Bernadette was exact in her journal— this year, this month, these eight days." The bishop pointed to someone in a back row. "Yes?"
A youngish woman rose. "Your Excellency, Pm with Le Monde of Paris. When the Virgin Mother appears, will she be seen by only one person or more than one?"
The bishop shrugged. "I cannot say. If it is the same as it was in 1858, the Virgin Mother will be seen by only one."
Liz Finch heard a movement and glanced over her shoulder. The man seated behind her had come out of his chair.
"BBC, London. Will the apparition show herself only at the grotto once more, or could she be anywhere in Loiu'des?"
The bishop answered, "Her message was explicit as to place, and it is likely that She will not only appear within the domain, but at the grotto itself. After all, it is familiar to Her."
A woman at the rear had been acknowledged and was standing. "II Messaggero of Rome. I wonder what she will be wearing?"
Liz Finch could see the bishop repressing a smile, as he answered. "When it comes to fashion, I am out of my depth." There was laughter in the auditorium, immediately hushed by the bishop's solemnity. "Bernadette originally saw the Virgin Mary garmented in white. As Bernadette stated, 'I saw a Lady dressed in white, wearing a white dress, a blue girdle, and a yellow rose on each foot, the same color as the chain
of Her rosary: The beads of Her rosary were white."" The bishop paused, and added dryly, "It is unlikely the passage of almost a century and a third would have much effect on the Lady's attire. Next question?"
A Japanese gentleman was waving, standing. "From Tokyo Asahi Shimbun, " he called out. "Have you speculated about what the Lady may have to say to the one who sees her?"
The bishop shook his head. "Only God knows—God, His Son, and the Virgin Mary. When it happens, we too shall know."
Liz Finch listened intently to the unreality of the continuing questions and answers.
"Your Excellency, I am from O Globo of Rio de Janeiro. Excellency, our readers wonder—when the Virgin reappears, will she cure someone who is an invalid?"
"Yes, She told Bernadette She would. On the other hand we know that long ago when Bernadette was ailing, even though she saw the Virgin Mary, she was not cured. Indeed, Bernadette sought a cure elsewhere." Liz Finch blinked, and began to scribble a note. The bishop was going on. "As the Virgin told Bernadette, 'I do not promise to make you happy in this world but in the next.' "
"Your Excellency, I represent The New York Times. In the event of a nonappearance ... if the Virgin Mary does not appear—that is to say, is seen by no one -- what will be the Church's position?"
"Sir, the Church will not need a position. We devoutly believe in the Holy Mother, and She has promised that She will appear in Lourdes this week. Of that, no one in the Church has a doubt. Each of us dedicated to God, from the Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church in the Vatican to all of his servants, fervently believes that the Immaculate Conception will reappear in one of the five days ahead."
Liz Finch stirred in her seat, eyes on the dial of her wristwatch. This was the moment for her own question. She must pose it before the conference ended. There were many hands beckoning for attention, and Liz quickly lifted her own hand.
To her surprise and relief, the bishop was pointing at her.
Liz jumped to her feet. "Bishop Peyragne, I'm from Amalgamated Press International of New York, from the Paris Bureau, and I have this question. Taking into
account Bernadette's age at the time of the apparitions—fourteen, I believe, an adolescent, and unlettered—could it not be possible that the secret she heard from the Virgin Mary and noted in her private journal might have been more -- more wish than factual reporting?" Ignoring the brief stir in the audience, Liz reiterated her question in another form. "In short, Your Excellency, how can the
Church be positive that what Bernadette set down in her journal about the Virgin's reappearance this year, this month, these days, was actually what she thought that the Virgin had told her?"
The bishop of Tarbes and Lourdes, from his elevated place, was staring down at Liz, and there was a long pause. At last, he spoke. "Madame, if we know nothing else about Saint Bernadette, we do know one thing that is absolutely beyond question. Bernadette was honest, she was unfailingly honest. She was tested and never once found wanting. She was ever truthful. She sought neither monetary gain nor fame. She wished only to be the conduit of a voice and message brought down from heaven. She would not enter anything in her journal that the Virgin Mary had not told her. She would enter only the truth."
Writing, Liz Finch felt the bishop's eyes were still piercing her. She looked up and saw that his concentrated stare was holding on her. Momentarily, he was inattentive to the other hands in the auditorium. He seemed to have something more to say to Liz herself.
He bent closer to the microphone. "Let me add this word. I am well acquainted with Bernadette, but I would not claim to have delved as deeply into her life as others. If you have any doubts about Bernadette's integrity, I would suggest that you speak further to one who is a scholarly historian of Lourdes and a biographer of Bernadette." He gestured behind him toward Father Ruland who was seated calmly between Michelle and Jamet. "I would suggest you see Father Ruland. I am sure he can dispel any doubts you may harbor." The bishop looked off at the forest of arms. "Now let us proceed. I see there are more questions."
Father Ruland was at the lectern, thanking the journalists and adjourning the press conference.
The bishop, followed by Jamet and Michelle, was exiting from the stage. As he did so, there was an unaccountable smattering of applause from the assembly of reporters.
Liz Finch watched the bishop leaving, and in her mind she continued to feel the intensity in his burning eyes when he had stared at her. Those Holy Joes, she thought, with their fanatical fever of piety. The unbending strength of their belief made her shudder.
Then she directed her attention to Father Ruland, still at the lec-tem, observing the breakup of the press conference. Somehow, he seemed to be lingering, and she wondered if it could be for her.
Scrambling to her feet, tucking the notebook and pencil into her purse, Liz hastened down the aisle to the stage.
She strode up to Father Ruland, and, indeed, he appeared to be expecting her.
"Father," she said, "I'm Liz Finch. Perhaps you remember that the good bishop suggested I speak to you about Bernadette."
Father Ruland's mouth crooked slightly. "Yes, Miss Finch, I do remember."
"Perhaps you can spare me a few minutes now, or would you rather I make an appointment for later?"
"Miss Finch, crowded as my calendar is with appointments, I think I can fit you in right now for fifteen or twenty minutes, if that will do?"
"It will do fine."
"Follow me."
She trailed his imposing figure off" the platform and went with him as he entered an austere office. The priest signaled Liz to the chair in front of the desk, then stood at the desk reaching into a jacket pocket "Do you mind if I smoke?"
"Not if you don't mind if I do." She sat, digging into her purse, came up with her packet and shook free a cigarette and put her lighter to it. He'd found his box of cigarillos and busied himself putting a match to one.
She held her gaze on him, trying to assess him. If he had not become a priest, he might have been a matinee idol. He was much too male and attractive to be wasted on cehbacy. His long sandy hair and eyelashes, the faintly Mongolian cast to his eyes, the sensuous lips, really too much. But there was more, she sensed. A suavity colored by a brush of cynicism. Perhaps a pohtician priest, as well as a historian. Surely a worldly priest. But what was he doing, then, cooped up in a provincial tank town like Lourdes? Why not in Rome and in the Holy See itself? But then she realized that Lourdes was more than a tank town, far more, a notable adjunct to the Vatican in fact. Here was also where the action was, especially in this elongated week, a municipal stage for exposure and action. The Pope would know who his most effective servants were. Presently, for certain, this Father Ruland would wind up in Rome where he belonged.
Liz came out of her reverie to realize that Father Ruland was seated across from her, puffing his cigarillo, and contemplating her with mild amusement.
She was briefly disconcerted. She sat up, taking one more pull at her cigarette, leaning forward to grind it out in a ceramic ashtray on the desk. "I—I am glad you could see me. Father. Perhaps I'd better tell you exactly who I am, what I do, and what I'm after in Lourdes."
Father Ruland's voice was lazy. "I know who you are, Miss Finch, I know what you do, and I know what you are after here. So we can bridge all that."
"What am I after?" she challenged him defiantly.
"You are after Bernadette," he said pleasantly. "You want her scalp. At least, so I heard before the press conference. Your question for the bishop confirms it. You regard Bernadette as a fake. Well, Miss Finch, it may relieve you to know you are not alone. For in her own time, Bernadette, at least at the outset of the apparitions, was very much doubted and considered a fake by many authorities."
Ah, he's one of those smooth snakes, thought Liz, one of those in the business of disarming. The tactic was not unfamiliar to a veteran interviewer. Utter frankness and candor that made you lower your guard. Then whamo, straight to the chin. She had dealt with the Father Rulands, those without Roman collars, before, and often. Still what made this appetizing and fun was that he did wear a Roman collar and he was ready to join an American muckraker in disparaging a saint of the church.
"No kidding?" said Liz, playing along. "Some of her contemporaries actually considered Bernadette a fake?"
"Absolutely," said Father Ruland. "After Bernadette had seen the first apparition of the lady in white, she intended to keep it to herself. She did not mean to tell anyone about the visitation. Then her younger sister, Toinette, wheedled it out of her. The sister spilled out the story to their mother Louise, 'Bernadette saw a white girl in the grotto of Massabielle.' Louise demanded to know exactly what Bernadette had seen. Bernadette told her mother about the lady. Louise, considering the troubles the family had already had -- failures in business, evictions ft-om homes, a period in prison her husband had served—angrily stmck Bernadette with a stick, and cried out, 'You didn't see anything but a white rock. I forbid you to go back there.' Her father, Francois, also forbade Bernadette to retum to the grotto. Nevertheless, three days later, after her confession to Father Pomian, who treated what she had seen more seriously, Bernadette went back to the grotto and saw the Virgin a second time. Bernadette fell into such a deep trance, that an adult, a miller, had to be summoned to lift her and bring her away."
"But her parents eventually came around?"
"Eventually, but not immediately," said Father Ruland. "In fact, the following day, after the word had spread to Bernadette's school, the Mother Superior demanded to know if she was through with her 'carnival extravaganzas,' and one of the nuns actually slapped Bernadette on the cheek. Nevertheless, Bernadette was drawn back to the grotto a
third time, this time accompanied by two curious women who insisted that she have the apparition write down its name. For a third time the apparition appeared, and Bernadette reported that she asked the white lady her name and the lady replied, 'It is not necessary.' And then added, 'Would you have the graciousness to come here for fifteen days?' Bernadette agreed. By her sixth visit, as many as one hundred people came to watch her in
prayer and her mother was among them."
"But there were those who doubted the girl's stories?"
"Yes, definitely," agreed Father Ruland again. "As I told you, there were important personages in Lourdes who doubted her, regarded her as a faker, a daydreamer, an ignorant youngster suffering hallucinations. One of these was the town's pohce commissioner, Jacomet, and he hauled little Bernadette in for an interrogation. After learning that she was no more than fourteen, unable to read or write, and had not made her First Communion, Jacomet said to her, 'So then, Bernadette, you see the Holy Virgin?' She snapped back, 'I do not say that I have seen the Holy Virgin.' Jacomet exclaimed, 'Ah, good! You haven't seen anything!' Bernadette persisted, 'Yes, I did see something . . . Something white . . . That thing has the form of a little young lady.' The police conunissioner pushed on. 'And that thing did not say to you, "I am the Holy Virgin"?' Bernadette would not retreat. 'She did not say that to me.' Jacomet's interrogation went on and on. Finally, he lost patience and said, 'Listen, Bernadette, everyone is laughing at you. They say that you are crazy. For your own sake, you must not go back to the grotto anymore." Father Ruland leaned forward against his desk, and went on speaking. "Bernadette insisted that she must go back, that she had promised the white lady she would retum for fifteen days. Jacomet had been writing down everything Bernadette had recounted, and now he read his notes to her. 'You stated, the Virgin smiles at me.' Bernadette objected. 'I didn't say the Virgin.' Jacomet read ftirther. Bernadette intermpted once more. 'Sir, you have altered everything on me.' At last, the police commissioner lost his temper, shouting at Bernadette, 'Drunken sot, brazen hussy, little whore! You are getting everyone to run after you.' Bernadette replied calmly, 'I don't tellanyone to go there.' But Jacomet would continue to oppose her, and she would continue to defy him."
Liz Finch could not help but be impressed. "She was a nervy little girl."
The Miracle Page 24
