The Departure
Two days later I was in Ventimiglia, meeting place of the pilgrims and where the railway for Lourdes awaited us. I presented myself, at the railway station, to the Organizing Committee and entered into the performance of my charge.
At my disposition were two first-class compartments, two communicating coupés, of which one was destined for pharmacy and eventual medications and emergency aid. Everything seemed well prepared to me and with abundance.
Before departure I would have liked to know my pilgrims, but I realized then that it was not possible. A hubbub of people awaited departure with the evident preoccupation, at that moment, not now of presenting themselves to the doctor, but of occupying a good place on the train. It was a hubbub of people in orgasm: priests and laypeople, men, women, pillows, blankets, wheelchairs, clothing.
"Well, —I thought— I will know my flock during the trip since we had to spend so much time on the train and the cars are intercommunicating." Not all, on the other hand, had need of the doctor's vigilance. There were many in perfect health. Others, on the contrary, visibly sick, moved with great difficulty or made known, by their pale and exhausted faces, by their tired and afflicted expression, the secret of their internal weaknesses.
First Observations
Already at first sight I noted the profiles of emaciated faces and the inflamed cheeks of the tubercular, of those sick with specific osteitides, of spondylitics.
On a stretcher was extended a paralytic; a paraplegic with flaccid and dead legs; on a wheelchair waited a hydropic, with enormous belly, badly hidden by the blankets a cirrhotic, probably liver sick, with emaciated, almost cadaverous face and with large painful eyes. Discouraged, on a small bench was a poor man with bandaged head and neck wrapped in a great black scarf; he had cancer on the cheek, the face was already destroyed, in part, by the tumor, so that it had become monstrous and had to be bandaged to not provoke repugnance; the neck, besides was swollen by glandular blockages and also had to be hidden by the scarf due to its repugnant deformity.
The Blind Young Woman
A little farther, seated on another small bench, a singular couple called my attention. They were a man and woman of very modest conditions, both young, evidently husband and wife. He held her by the arm observing her lovingly and, almost as if comforting her, spoke to her with tenderness. She had a tired but resigned face, the eyes were very soft, cerulean... but extinguished.
She was blind. Married since a year before, she had been attacked, during pregnancy, by a grave disease of the optic nerve and had lost sight completely. The child had been born beautiful and robust, but she had not seen him nor would be able to see him for all her life as she would not be able to see the others that might be born to her, because the disease had been judged by all incurable.