The Holy Sheperdess of Pibrac [pp. 753-760]

The Holy Shepherdess of Pibrac.
The pious liberality of Germaine
made her an object of suspicion to
her step-mother, who, not divining
her resources, accused her of stealing bread from the house. One day
she learned that Germaine, who had
just gone with the flock, carried in
her apron some pieces of bread.
Furious, and armed with a cudgel,
she immediately ran after her. Some
of the other inhabitants of Pibrac
happened to be on their way at this
very moment to the house of Lawrence Cousin. Seeing this woman
almost beside herself with passion,
they divined her intentions, and hastened to protect Germaine from the
ill treatment with which she was
menaced. Overtaking the stepmother, they learned the cause of
her anger. Finding Germaine, she
seized her apron, and instead of
bread, it was filled with bouquets of
roses, although it was a season when
those flowers were not in bloom.
Thus God confounded the malice of
her implacable enemy by renewing a
miracle, likewise wrought in favor of
Saint Elizabeth of Hungary and
other saints.
From this time, Germaine was regarded as a saint. Lawrence Cousin,
conceiving more tender sentiments
toward this pious child whom he
had so little known, forbade his
wife's annoying her any thore, and
wished to give her a place in his
house with the other children. But
Germaine, accustomed to suffering
and loving privation, besought him
to leave her in the obscure place
which her step-mother had assigned
her.
It was now that Germaine attained
and proved the perfection of her humility. We must not consider it a
trifling honor to have been esteemed
at Pibrac; nor a small reward to
have had a place at the fireside of
Lawrence Cousin. Human nature
is the same everywhere. There is no
theatre too small for ambition. We
know there are as many cabals for
the first place in a village as for the
chief place in an empire.
Perhaps it may not be entirely
useless to speak of the exterior of
the blessed Germaine. The manners and customs of the remote provinces of France retain so much of
primitive simplicity, they change so
little year after year, and the people
in these localities have such a marked
appearance, that we may form a
reasonable idea of her person and
habits.
She is represented in paintings and
engravings as we see scores of shepherdesses in the south of France at
this day-seated on a hillock in the
fields, and surrounded by her flock.
With a spindle in her hand, and
under her arm the distaff laden with
flax, she is spinning, after the primitive manner of that country. She is
rather below the medium size, and is
slight in form. She has the long
head of the Toulousains, and their
dark, Spanish complexion and eyes.
The face, half hidden by the picturesque scarlet capuchon, is expressive
of silence, interior silence; and forcibly speaks of the deep, deep calm
within. A pleasing sadness, or rather
a subdued joy, veils her face. There
is an introspective look about the
eyes which shows that her spirit has
passed the bounds of sense, and
is concentrated in one mysterious
thought-some dream of a heavenly
world. Sitting alone, away from her
kind, her thoughts were pure and
holy and bright, like the fragrant
flowers of her own green meadows.
She must have seemed to the other
peasants like some phantom of un,
earthly love, as she sat there enveloped in a divine ethereal atmosphere.
In the distance rise the towers of the
church, and the antique chateau of
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