The Medal

THE lights of the great city of Paris flickered and gleamed like so many jewels in the darkness of the soft July night. Gay music drifted from the sidewalk cafes, and an endless stream of carriages rolled up and down the broad avenues on their way from the theaters. But at the Mother-house of the Daughters of Charity all was silence. The Sisters were fast asleep, after a hard day’s work in preparation for the Feast of Saint Vincent de Paul, who had founded their Society some two hundred years before. The next day would be one of joyful celebration at the convent.


Like the other religious, young Sister Labouré had fallen into the sound sleep of exhaustion. Then presently she stirred uneasily. Was someone calling her?


With a start she sat up. The dormitory was in darkness, yet surely a light was moving outside the white curtains surrounding her bed? And yes—someone had called her! She now heard her name spoken for the third time.


Quickly she parted the curtains, looked out, then drew back in astonishment. A few feet away stood a little boy about five years old—blue-eyed, goldenhaired—dressed in shining white garments!


“Come to the chapel,” he invited. “The Blessed Virgin is waiting for you.”


Sister Labouré could scarcely believe her eyes, or her ears. The chapel? At this hour of the night? The ... the Blessed Virgin?


The child seemed to read her thoughts. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “It’s half-past eleven. Everyone’s asleep. Come along. I’ll wait for you.”


With trembling fingers Sister Labouré began to dress. Was all this a dream? Oh, surely not! Ever since she had been a little girl she had prayed to see the Blessed Virgin. And now, on the eve of the Feast of Saint Vincent de Paul....


In just a few minutes she was ready. The little boy was waiting for her as he had promised, and at once the two set off for the chapel. As they hurried down the empty corridors, the young Sister’s astonishment grew by leaps and bounds. All the lights were burning! And when they reached the chapel, the heavy doors swung open at the mere touch of the child’s hand to reveal still more lights and all the altar candles ablaze.


“It’s just as though there were going to be Midnight Mass!” thought Sister Labouré excitedly.