Autobiographical Memories of Mary of the Sacred Heart

Notebook from 1909

JMJT

Jesus!

to my dear Mother – memory of her little sister and granddaughter Marie du S.Coeur

My darling little Mother, to please you I am going to try to remember something from my poor life which is so far from resembling that of our angel. But since I have the happiness of having her for a sister, I shall enjoy in heaven all the gifts of nature and of the grace that the good Lord has given her. I will enjoy them as much as if they were mine because for her as for you, my little mother, I prefer that you are more favored than me. Oh ! I do not say that the Lord has not favored me; if I had been faithful to all the graces He gave me, I would have been holy a long time ago. But his mercy is infinite and he also waits with infinite patience for the soul whom he pursues with his love to give itself entirely to him. That's what he did for me. What kindness ! When will I finally give him everything he expects from me.

Today is All Saints' Day and we are on the evening of this feast full of melancholy. [in the evening all the churches sounded the knell for the dead] I hear the knell crying for those who are no longer of this world, but who live beyond this world... Poor unfortunates who have passed from this valley of tears in an even sadder desert that awaits help from us! Alas! they did not know how to help themselves and make the pains of this life their Purgatory! O my little Mother, I ask Jesus that it is not so for us, but that he purifies us before our death so that at our last breath we immediately fall into his arms. What you told me this evening, I think like you. Yes, I don't want to refuse the good God any sacrifice while I still can, because afterwards we won't be able to give him anything. It will be impossible for us to give him a single proof of our love! It's scary to think that. What a precious life we ​​lead on earth... And to think that most of the time we hardly feel these truths which are so bright on certain days.

If I continue, my little Mother, I don't see what I'm going to tell you about my life. So I start by giving you a detail on a feature that I have no recollection of. I was too young to be able to remember it, it was mum who told it to me. I was barely beginning to walk when I was already showing my penchant for independence. One day when she was holding my hand trying my first steps I suddenly started running. Mom afraid to see me fall called me saying... “Obey, Mary, obey! But without even turning away I kept repeating, still running, "obey, obey... Later we had a maid who had the sad talent of freezing my three little sisters Pauline, Léonie and Hélène with terror with a single look; There was only me that she didn't catch in her net. I saw this poor little Hélène very sad when she happened to stain her stockings or her apron, she dared not play for fear that something bad would happen to her and then be scolded by Louise . But I would have done it on purpose to show her that I wasn't afraid of her and when she reproached me I answered her immediately: "I'm very free myself" so she had nicknamed me: " I am very free” and it was she who was afraid of me. Since I am on the chapter of Louise, I will say that this poor girl made my two little sisters Léonie and Hélène very unhappy. However, she was very fond of little Hélène, who was lovely and as sweet as an angel, but as Louise lacked judgment she did not see that she was terrorizing this poor child and doing her a lot of harm. Mom noticed it one day and said to her, "But it seems to me that you are making these children unhappy, I forbid you to scold them for nothing as you do." Then seeing that these two little ones were always around her and seemed to love her very much, this poor little Mother had confidence in Louise [long passage crossed out]. My God, how inscrutable but also admirable are your designs. Léonie was far from gifted like Hélène. She was an absolutely unruly child, no one could overcome her, only fear kept her going. Mom was desperate; who to entrust it to? where to put it? She didn't fit anywhere, as soon as she was given a little freedom, she took advantage of it to make disorder everywhere, or else some accident happened to her, you could never be at peace on her account. I remember that one day (we were then half-boarders at Providence) she wanted to grab her snack which was on top of a buffet, to do so she put chairs on top of each other, climbed on them and came to fall on bottles she dragged down, the pieces entered her forehead and made marks there that she still has. The terrified Sister ran home to warn Papa, who came immediately and with pliers removed the pieces of glass that she had in her forehead. From that day on, Mama kept her with us and it was then that she asked the Blessed Virgin to send her a devoted and honest daughter on whom she could count to take care of her children.

My darling little Mother, I forgot to tell you about the little act of virtue that I remember. I must have been four or five years old. Do you remember that Papa had on his workbench a dried orange peel in which he put pennies or sous. I found it so marvelous that one day when I had been given an orange I asked him to make me a little saucer like his too and all triumphant I showed it to you saying: I have a skin of orange. As soon as it made you want to and to win "a pearl in my crown" (because it was by this means that Mom made us give in) I gave it to you. It seemed to me that I was doing a heroic act and that poor orange peel was even more precious to me because you wanted it. As I ran very quickly to mum, I said to her: “Mum, I gave Pauline my orange peel, will I go to the cel [sic]? Yes my little girl, yes, you will go to the cel, answered my mother. This hope alone could console me for the loss of my fortune. Alas! my darling little Mother, I find that, thinking about it most of the time, that's just what we have to offer God. The great sacrifices are rarely encountered, but the very small ones, "the little dried orange peels" we have as many as we want. So at this moment I have only to give him my little yellow saucer and I am sure, very sure that he will put in it not money like that poor little father, but diamonds for Paradise; that is, souls. And do you know for the moment what my little orange peel is? Well, that's the house we're building behind the trees just in front of our cell. All the countryside that I loved to see so much will disappear from my eyes. Already I no longer see the little white houses whose windows sparkle in the evening at sunset. It made me think of Heaven, I said to myself that in Heaven, this is how the blessed would mutually reflect the sun of Justice and the simplest souls would also shine like suns. I therefore offered to the good God this very small sacrifice in union with all those that Jesus accomplished for poor sinners so that for them the formidable wall of his justice would not be raised which would hide their sovereign Good from them forever! Oh ! when one thinks of this irreparable misfortune! How I would like to save souls! But for that you have to be holy because only the saints are powerful over your Heart. But I am his wife and his love for me the blind perhaps?...

Now, my darling little Mother, that I have quoted to you the only act of virtue that I remember I will quote to you my acts of independence, because I well justified my nickname, 'I am very free' – One Easter day I I was going to High Mass with Louise, I was all alone because you were still too young to come. Near the church of Montsort, which was then being repaired, there was like a large lime pond surrounded by sand. I approach to see, Louise tells me not to go any further because this lime would burn my feet. But it was enough for her to tell me that to show her that I was quite free and that I wanted to find out for myself if what she was telling me was true. I jump on the sand bank as soon as I start to sink into the lime and seeing his prediction come true I thought I was already burned alive. I uttered desperate cries. Finally they took me out of this lime but they had to take me home, my pretty little brand new boots were completely burned.

When I heard the little bell at Mass at the time of the elevation and I immediately saw everyone lower their heads, I said to myself: "It's too much to force us like that to lower our heads, me I like it better to look, I am quite free...” And indeed I was looking, I still see the white host in the hands of the priest. But then I understood, without however deepening this thought, why all the foreheads bowed. The first time I looked at the Holy Host while doing my act of independence I felt an impression of sweetness and peace.

At that age I didn't want to greet people we knew either, it humiliated me to say hello. I remember that one day while going to the pavilion the opportunity arose, but I turned my head away like a little savage. Mom was very sorry to see me with such a unique character and she told me that I wouldn't endear myself to anyone. But these words still helped to root me in my haughty spirit. Thinking that we were obliged to make courtesies and bows, I said to myself: No, I won't subject myself to that, I don't like trying to get people to love me, and I answered Mama: "That's fine with me. It doesn't matter that people don't love me as long as you love me, that's enough for me. »

As I said Mom put us half boarders at Providence. You remember my little Mother with what intrepidity I defended you. You were so sweet, so cute! As soon as you were made to cry all my blood boiled in my veins. I did not like Providence. The mistress who took care of the little ones was far from edifying me. I always saw her eating oranges or candies. I couldn't believe it! And then when she often scolded us after calling us to her office, she tugged at our ears. This way revolted me. In the evening when I came home I told mum everything that had made me suffer. Finally I had come to have such an antipathy for the nuns that I could no longer see them.

Several older students were madly in love with the nun I am talking about because she was pretty. I, who was only seven and a half years old, found them foolish to attach themselves to her, having had an experience at my expense which had already taught me what one can expect from the creature. One day during dinner she sent me to fetch her knife which she had forgotten on her desk. I rush off, happy to do him a favor, but he was all sticky, full of barley sugar and I wanted to wipe him off. I made a big cut on my thumb and I arrived with a bloody finger in the refectory. She barely paid attention to me. I said nothing, but I thought inwardly. It's not about to take me back! Let her make eyes at me all she wants to get something from me, I know her now. It seemed to me that it was such ingratitude that I could not deepen it. There were also dissipated and badly brought up students in the same class as me, more than that!!! The mistress noticed nothing. As I didn't want to hide anything from Mama, I told her everything I had seen and heard, that's when this good little Mother said to me: above all, my little girl, say all this well at confession. Start with what costs the most. Dear Mother, that I have never seriously offended God) And she told me this story which made my hair stand on end: 'There was a child who dared not tell his sins and when she came to confess, the priest saw the head of a big snake come out of her mouth and immediately it disappeared, finally one day she had the courage to confess her fault and the big snake came out whole and after her a multitude of small snakes because when we have chased away the biggest, the others go away on their own as if by magic.” I had remembered that and for nothing in the world would I have wanted to hide a sin. One day when I feared I had swallowed a big snake with what happiness I received the news that we were going to confession. I can still see myself besieging the door of the confessional. There were several of us waiting and I was so afraid of not having time to go. So I turned my skin inside out, so to speak, so that there wouldn't be a single snake left in my heart.

I forgot to recount yet another act which proves how proud and independent I was. “In some circumstance, the mistress wanted to punish me by putting on a policeman's hat that she had made out of a newspaper. It was during dinner, I had to put up with this policeman's hat on my head all the time in the refectory. But no sooner had she put it down than it was on the ground; several times she bothered to hand it to me as soon as her back was turned when I made her jump, I think in the end she was obliged to tie it to me with a pin.

One of my childhood memories that has remained etched in my mind is when we went to see little Hélène as a nurse. I was only five and a half years old, but it seems to me that I felt things as deeply as I do now. First of all, little Hélène was a nurse on the side of the Chêne, a farm which belonged to our parents, four or five leagues from Alencon. How good it seemed to me! I thought it was very sad to have such a nice little sister so far from home. I can still see Mama kissing little Hélène as she leaves. And I said to myself: how sad I am to leave my little sister! How unhappy Mama must be! poor mother! but why doesn't she take him with us! I found that the good woman who looked after my little sister was very happy and I could not understand such a mystery. So I thought for the first time that life was full of sacrifices. But I said nothing about my feelings because it would have been impossible for me to express them.

I also remember very well my little brothers, especially the second. To make him laugh, I danced with you, my little Mother, and with Léonie and Hélène too, I believe, on a bed which was opposite his cradle. We smashed the bedstead; he was laughing out loud, which really amused me to see that he was beginning to understand us when he was barely five or six months old. He looked so smart. When I said to him: “Little Joseph was naughty! immediately he made a small lip and without a cry big tears beaded in his little angel eyes. So I quickly said, “No, no, he's cute! And he began to smile. I have never seen such a jewel. Mom said, looking at her little fingers: "My future little priest has well-made hands..." I can still see his little coffin in the office. Mom had put a crown of white roses on him and she said, looking at him: “My God! should this be put in the ground!! but since you want it, your will be done. How brave ! what faith! I was eight years old and this show was engraved deeply in my heart. I looked at Mom with admiration. She was not crying, she could not cry under these circumstances and her astonishing energy made the world say that she was not sorry for the death of her children, that her faith was so great that she was happy to give to God. Poor little Mother! Fortunately, He who reads the depths of hearts counted all his anguish.

I also remember very well the birth of the first little Thérèse (Marie Mélanie Thérèse). She was enchantingly beautiful. We were still obliged to put her to nurse [passage deleted], but at Alençon. We went to see her often, when Mom couldn't. Louise our maid went there with us. I always accompanied him to see my little sister because I loved little brothers and little sisters very much. I can say that it was one of the joys of my childhood life. I was only ten years old, but this nanny, whose cleanliness was perfect and the house very well kept, did not inspire me with any confidence. I didn't think she looked straight and then when we arrived she always gave the breast to the little one who rushed into it with such enthusiasm that it seemed to me like a poor starving little one who was dying of hunger. I said nothing, at ten years old what could I have said? But when we went out I made my thoughts to Louise, I told her that I was sure that my little sister was not being well cared for by that woman and that I would tell mum, that she was rushing to her nanny like someone who is starving, etc... Louise answered me that I knew nothing about it, that all the children were like that, that it was not worth talking about to bother this poor little girl. Mother, that she had enough trouble without that etc... But one day, unable to bear it any longer, I said while looking at the bread: Ah! if poor little Thérèse had only a piece of it, at least she wouldn't starve. Louise looked at me stunned, sensing what was about to happen. Mom indeed questions us and the next day the poor little girl was at home. Alas! it was already too late, she was too weak to take over and soon she went to join the two little angels who had preceded her to Heaven. Mama was so saddened by her death that when we went to the "Promenades" with her, we avoided passing by the side of the rue de la Barre where little Thérèse had been in nursing, she was never able to see that street again. And I also had a sting in my heart because I reproached myself for not having said what I thought sooner and for fear of Louise for having been the cause of my little sister's death. Now I am very happy that all these angels have returned to port safe from the shipwrecks of this stormy sea of ​​life.

Since I am on the chapter of my little sisters, I will continue the same subject and talk about Céline who was for me the joy of joys. I was at the Visitation when I learned that we had a new little sister. I immediately exclaimed: “What happiness! The mistress began to smile, saying to me: you don't have enough like that! But I never found too many. When the holidays came what a joy to see our little sister. She was in foster care at Semallé. His nurse loved him very much and called him "my holy Angel!" When the months of nursing were over, how many tears she shed to return the little one to Mama. But I was happy to see her come to our house. She was more cute than I can say.

It was a real gem, so small! how curious it was to see such a small child running like a little mouse through the house. She took her first steps on top of Mom's desk. Louise, who was holding this living doll in her arms, put it on the desk for a moment to have fun and, while wiggling her little feet, she began to say Encô...encô (again!) I couldn't believe my ears to see that she understood what to say to keep having fun with her. Finally I was amazed by my little sister. Louise was proud of her too, you would have thought she belonged to her so much she pampered her. Nothing too beautiful for Céline, she took care of her toilet like that of a princess. Also when Louise took us for a walk together it was not uncommon to hear the people we met say to each other: Who is this pretty little girl? And the others answer: “But it's little Martin! Then Louise's happiness was at its height; when she got home she told that to that poor little mother who was working diligently at her Alençon stitch while we were out walking and for all compliments mother told her it was pride.8

If I go on like this, my darling little Mother, my stories will have no end, you must not expect to have anything but an unparalleled muddle from me because I don't know how to settle anything.

Now I come back to where I was: I was telling you about the time we spent together at Providence d'Alençon. Before leaving this subject I want you to know that the mistress who cursed me with her gluttony has converted. It was Father Pichon who converted her in a retreat that he gave to Providence. I don't know by what chance he spoke to me about it, I believe it was while telling him about my childhood that his name came back to my lips, he said to me: “Ah!... that Sister! You know her !! But she is one of my children. It was I who opened Heaven to him. And he added “Oh! She was in great need of conversion!! »

Mom, seeing the deep aversion I had for all the nuns of this community (alas! they weren't the cause if one of them did her duty badly) resolved to send me to boarding school at the Visitation in Le Mans. I was eight years old then, I was far from suspecting the hard sacrifices that I would have to make.

It was new, I was going to travel... going to boarding school far away... it was distinguished! I didn't analyze all that, but I had a certain idea of ​​it. Louise who didn't like me too much because I was very strong-willed told me that when I left she wouldn't cry for me and I, to prove to her that I didn't regret her, I told her that I would be so happy on my side of to be no longer with her than I would light a bonfire in the garden. This poor Louise had left deep impressions of her malice in my childhood imagination. – One day she had dressed me a little doll about the size of a finger as a First Communicant. I was delighted but now I'm doing something he doesn't like. What ? I don't remember. Probably telling mom something she didn't want me to say. Finally she takes my doll and tears off the dress that I admired, tearing it to pieces. I was absolutely taken aback, but above all indignant, I found her so mean that I was suffocated. To show her that I wasn't afraid of her, I told her boldly: "I'm going to tell Mama" But this poor little Mother who had other worries than a doll's dress torn understood only imperfectly what I considered black malice. She scolded Louise, but she knew how to defend herself so well that they paid little attention to me.

Finally the day arrived when we left for the Visitation: I have so little memory that I don't remember the trip. What I remember is the parlor where I saw my aunt behind the gate. It wasn't the first time, however, because Mama had already taken us to the Visitation to see my aunt. But then it was not to enter and we spent most of the day in the courtyard of the chapel playing and running. During one of these visits my aunt gave me a picture which impressed me so deeply that I found written on the back: "Remembrance of my Tent [sic] du Man [sic], I will always keep [sic] it [sic] . I have in fact always kept it because I still have it in our breviary, it followed me to Carmel. It is a Child Jesus in the middle of a field of lilies holding a scythe in his hand and harvesting lilies. At the bottom of the image are these words: “Blessed is the lily which remained spotless until harvest time, its whiteness shall shine eternally in Paradise”. This image made me dream as a child, and it still makes me dream. Finally, thanks to this image perhaps the Visitation had for me a certain secret charm of poetry and holiness.

Yes, but... the poetry quickly faded from my mind when I saw that I had to leave Mum. So I felt like I was leaving everything... anything that can protect and love you. I looked at my aunt, yet so holy and so good, but I no longer felt like going with her. The Nuns! ah! how austere they seemed to me! So I say to myself quietly: What will become of me when I no longer have a mother! I wouldn't dare say anything to those sisters, at dinner they'll make me eat fat. It was a big deal for me, because meat that had fat in it made my heart ache. So I say to mum: “Do you want to ask that they don't give me fat. To please me, Mama gave my aunt an errand, but I saw very well that my recommendation was useless and that no one would pay attention to my tastes. Finally we were both ushered into the convent. We were taken care of so much that I didn't think to worry about the separation, I was distracted by all that I was seeing again. And then Mom had told me so well that the nuns of the Visitation were all Saints (which was true) that I felt at ease in their midst. We had returned, I believe, a day or two before the general start of the school year, which made me appreciate the holiness of the good nuns even more because of the solitude that reigned everywhere. But after a while I hear the sound of a piano. Immediately my happiness vanished. I say to myself: “Oh! it's like in Providence, no, these nuns aren't holier than the others, they have pianos! Of course there are students who are favorites, I will still see injustices here and many things that will displease me. The rich should be seen better etc. etc. In my little eight-year-old head there was a whole world of thoughts and appreciations that we were far from suspecting. I continued my observations without saying anything and fortunately I realized very quickly that I had been mistaken. My mistresses were real saints. My aunt was unparalleled in her devotion to us, we went to see her often. As she was not at the boarding school, this put us in touch with the community. And often in our walks with her we met nuns who seemed to take a keen interest in the little nieces of Sr. Marie Dosithée. You, my little Mother, you were of such an open character, so amiable that I was proud to have such a cute little sister. At the Visitation, I was not obliged to defend you because everyone loved you. I also loved you more than I can say and I was very happy to hear your praises sung. Yet I went about it in a singular way when people came to pay me compliments about you. So I looked indifferent, or else I attenuated the qualities people pointed out to me. I answered for example: it's true that Pauline is very nice, but the others are too. My aunt was told my absurd thoughts, telling her that I was jealous of my little sister. Ah! jealousy was far from my thought! I told my aunt that I answered this way because these compliments are addressed to you I looked at them as if they had been made to me and that I believed that was the way it should be done.

My First Communion was brought forward a year because my aunt fell seriously ill. As I was very advanced for catechism, the first Mistress told me that if I were very good I would make my first Communion at 9 years old, because they wanted to give my aunt this consolation before she died. This thought gave me great courage, I had a great desire to make my 1st Communion and I learned my catechism with unparalleled ardor. Religious questions interested me a lot. It was a celebration for me to go and recite my lesson to Father Boulangé. I can still see the parlor where he taught us catechism. When he asked questions that my companions couldn't answer, I was dying to have him ask me. I said to myself: Oh! How I would like him to question me! I understand so well! That was what happened most of the time, so he was very pleased with me. I was not satisfied with learning the catechism well, I did a lot of practices so that baby Jesus would be very happy in my heart, that he would be well received there, because I thought in the depths of my soul that he had made everyone believe that my aunt was going to die precisely because he was in a hurry to give himself to me and this thought filled me with joy. Yet it was very true, my aunt was very ill and the whole community was convinced that she would not have the consolation of seeing me make my 1st Communion. Me, I was sure of the opposite, I had an unshakeable faith. One day when we went to see my aunt in her infirmary and she could barely speak to us, she was so oppressed, the nurse tried to make me understand that we had to surrender ourselves to the will of God above all, because she knew though I was praying earnestly for my aunt's recovery. So I looked at her amazed and I said to her: “But, my Sister, if I did like that I wouldn't achieve anything. If by misfortune, it was not the will of the good God, I would therefore be sure not to be answered! So I am careful not to speak to him of his will, but I try to change his will. The good Sister began to laugh and could not answer me.

It was to St Joseph that I addressed myself to obtain this cure, I had a very great confidence in him and to touch his heart here is what I did: At the bottom of "the small sheepfold" (the place of the garden where we took our antics in recreation) there was a statue of St Joseph in a niche surrounded by jasmine. I carefully picked up all the little flowers that fell at her feet and threading them one inside the other I made wreaths of them which I threw to her with great devotion in the two empty spaces of the niche. It was for me the biggest practice to put on these flowers because I could not run and have fun with my companions. No matter how much they invited me to take part in their games, I invariably replied: I prefer to make wreaths at St Joseph. When I arrived at recreation my first thought was to see if the jasmine had stripped its leaves, not because it gave me pleasure, but because I was very afraid of this kind of amusement I was indulging in to get my aunt cured. . I seem to remember that one fine day the mistress forced me to leave all my crowns there and told me to play like everyone else. I didn't have it repeated to me twice, because I thought: St Joseph sees clearly that it's not my fault if I abandon him, so that's not what will prevent him from curing my aunt Finally, a few weeks before my first Communion she felt so badly that all hope seemed lost. Our mistresses looked at us with a look of consternation and we no longer went to see her in the infirmary for fear of causing her the slightest fatigue. My confidence did not leave my heart. To each nun I met I said: “Sister, how is my aunt? » And if I was given bad news, I contented myself on entering the chapel with looking at Saint Joseph, but with a certain look which, I believed, would tell him a lot... And when I had looked at him so, either to scold him or to thank him, I went away completely reassured and convinced that my aunt would recover. Mom on her side wrote me lovely letters to encourage my faith. I still remember these words: “My little Marie, the good Lord will refuse you nothing on the day of your First Communion, on that day your aunt must be able to say to you: “The good Lord has cured me! You prayed so well for me! “Ah! those letters from mum that were admired by our mistresses were inadvertently burned! How many times have I heard them tell us that there is no mother like ours...they were quite right.

Finally I obtained the much-desired grace, my aunt recovered despite all the contrary predictions, she was able to attend my first Communion, and lived another seven years; she died a year after I left boarding school. She told me near death that she owed me seven years of life.

I return to the time which preceded my First Communion. I was so scrupulous that it poisoned my life, all the most extravagant thoughts that crossed my mind I immediately went to tell them to the 1st mistress of the boarding school, the one who prepared us for our 1st Communion. I was so afraid of not making a good one! But it was not only the 1st Mistress to hear my madness, because I can say that it was madness. The fear of having bad thoughts gave me some and then each time I went to confession (which was for me a real torture) I said and said again down to the smallest details, but not without pushing big sighs! everything that crossed my mind. I didn't forget the story of the big snakes and I was too afraid that it was hiding in my heart, so I forced out even those who weren't there. One day at the end of my confession, the Chaplain said to me: “From now on, I forbid you to say a single word to me about all this”.

Ah! the relief I felt, it is impossible for me to express! From that moment all my scruples vanished as if by magic.

To excite us to perform numerous acts of virtue, we were made to rely on what were called rosaries of practices. I wasn't always very faithful in pulling my pearls, but I knew how to get out of trouble all the same. One day it was acts of love that we had to do. When I saw the mistress with her paper and her pencil to take note of our virtues; I say to myself: what will become of me? I forgot ! But until she reaches my rank I still have time...quick, quick, let's hurry: "My good Jesus, I love you, my good Jesus, I love you!..." And when she gets to me I answer boldly: "sixty!..." But I think all the same that my acts of love were too hasty and that another time I would have to do it another way. way.

Finally the beautiful day of my First Communion arrived day without clouds! most beautiful day of my life with that of my profession. Ah! Of this one I can say what I often heard Mama repeat in a delicious poem of which I have retained only these lines:
Beautiful day between the days! your memory stays with me
Like a faithful friend, from whom nothing has separated
You always appear to me, transparent, azure
As in the temple in the evening a celestial vapor
On the sacred tabernacle!

I was given the act of faith to recite. With what deep feeling I pronounced it in the name of my companions, but above all in my own. When I approached to receive the Holy Host I was preoccupied with only one thing: to make a good First Communion; I had been told that on this act depended all life. Then I collected myself as best I could, but like a child, I received no particular light for the direction of my life and had no extraordinary consolation. Only I repeat, I was well collected. Towards the end of the mass, Sister M. Paule, the 1st mistress of the boarding school, approached very close to the gate of the choir and, like a vigilant mother, passed a few pieces of chocolate to those she thought to be the most delicate. No one cared about me and I experienced happiness in being forgotten by creatures and being left alone with my Jesus. Finally I was signed to go back to the convent because the First Communion Ceremony was taking place in the outside Chapel because of the parents. I then saw mum and dad, they were in the front row in a place of honor like all the parents of the first communicants. I felt then a feeling of noble pride. How beautiful they seemed to me on that day, my beloved parents. For me there was none like it in the whole assembly. Besides, papa was indeed very handsome and of rare natural distinction. Mama had on a very simple black silk dress, but her noble and dignified air seems to me to have an unequaled brilliance. Oh ! that I felt privileged to be their child.

That day we were not made to dine in the refectory with the other boarders, but we had been prepared in a separate room, a table around which garlands of flowers had been placed. Say what it delights me! So everything was heavenly on that day?... In the afternoon we went out again into the outer chapel for Vespers, the Act of Consecration and the renewal of the Baptismal Promises. Then mum and dad went up to the parlor to see my aunt, we were both with them, but they were very surprised to see that they had to say goodbye to their little girls on such a beautiful day, they thought they could take us to on the next day. My aunt told them that the rules forbade it to better ensure the recollection of the children on such a holy day. On the evening of my first communion, once back in my little cell as a boarder (because our beds separated by a wooden partition and surrounded by curtains looked like real little cells) I began to burst into tears. The Mistress ran up to me very worried wondering what could make me cry like this. But I couldn't answer him. Finally through my sobs I said to her: “It's because the day of my First Communion has passed! »

The next day we were returned to our parents. Ah! the next day that it was imbued for me with melancholy. So I had found mom and dad, I who suffered from being separated from them! With them it seemed to me to be in Heaven, but this heaven must have been very short since the very evening they were to leave us! So my happiness was far from complete. We took a walk in the countryside. Soon I saw myself in a field full of large daisies and blueberries. But to pick them you had to leave the hand of my darling father, I preferred to stay with him. I was looking at him, I was looking at mum...there was in my little 9-year-old heart abysses of love and tenderness for them. I also thought a lot about my little sisters Léonie and Hélène who had stayed in Alençon. Léonie especially worried me. I said to myself: I would like to have him with me; it was a dark point in my life to know her with that maid I have already spoken of and who had so much sway over her. Finally we returned to the Visitation with a large bouquet of cornflowers that you had picked with Mama. But what was my pain when I saw that this bouquet was passed on the other side of the gate to Sr. M. Paula who did not even pay attention to it. Oh ! these blueberries they were for me so full of poetry! It seemed very sad to me to give them to someone I loved so little. No, I didn't like Sr. M. Paula very much. For what ? I do not know. I liked my other mistresses much better, yet it was to her that I had made all my confidences. But I did them out of duty (which proves that I had merit!). And then that day, this poor sister seemed to me even less pleasant than usual because she was about to open the door for us and she struck me as a prison jailer.

Since I'm on this chapter, I want to tell you my little Mother, (which you know well), how much I suffered from being in boarding school far from our parents. No, it is in vain that I would try to describe this martyrdom. You've been there like me, so you know what it's like! It was especially from my First Communion that I suffered the most. Before, the desire to make my First Communion made me forget the separation, but afterwards, having nothing more to hope for, I was inconsolable to see myself so far from them. I envied the fate of the ragpickers who go from door to door to stir up the debris thrown into the street with a stick. At least, I thought, they see the house! they are free, they can see mom and dad! Also when I heard Sr. Marie Claire sing to us during recreation:
 When in the azure slips a light cloud,
 I still dream of the one I love so much 
 Her cherished features, her pure and sweet image
 From the height of Heaven which blesses its child! »

My heart was filled with sadness, I too looked at the azure sky and I would have liked to fly on the clouds to find my dear mother. Alas! I had to stay in the foreign land; luckily I didn't have little Pauline, the sweet companion of my exile. She never complained, she had amazing fortitude. So when I saw the end of the holidays coming, I always left the house sobbing and nothing could dry up the source of my tears, not even the curious looks of passers-by and station employees, because I cried everything along the trip. But darling little Pauline did not shed a single tear, for the sole fear of hurting our parents. Yes, she had this amazing strength at such a tender age. Dad called her his precious pearl and he was right! But Dad also loved me very much and before leaving he often gave me little gifts, thinking he was consoling me. Poor father! it was quite the opposite, her tender delicacies pierced my heart even more. One day he brought me a sort of lovely little charm in the shape of a medallion. It was a small miniature barometer. Pauline wanted to see it, but it slipped from her hands and broke. I had a very heavy heart not so much because the glass was broken but because I felt that the heart of my little one, so sweet, so delicate, was also broken because Dad had scolded her a little for her clumsiness. Poor dear little sister! Jesus counted all the small brokennesses and the great pains of your heart. Yes... and soon all this will be changed into cries of joy. Don't you already begin to sing your Nunc dimittis because in your little daughter Thérèse! you already see the fruit “of what your soul has suffered and your heart is satisfied” right here below! What will it be up there?...

But back to my subject. – If I had trouble leaving our dear parents, you remember, my dear Mother, what intoxicating joy it was for us to glimpse the holidays. Alas! they were very rare for us, these holidays, we only went out three times a year: on the 1st day of the year we had eight days of vacation, at Easter 15 days and during the summer holidays six weeks or two months. A few days before the holidays you asked me to give you a picture of the joys that awaited us. It was not imitative music but it was certainly imitative poetry. I began with Mama's arrival in the visiting room; then I imitated the sound of the little lathe bell ringing the door. Din, den! Don! dine! den! Don!... Finally the sister in charge of this office was going to tell the mistress: "Madame Martin is asking for her children." Little Pauline, hearing me, uttered little cries of joy from time to time. We go out, we throw ourselves into Mama's arms, then we go to the station with her... Here we are on the train, well settled. So I imitated the locomotive by making Booms! Boom! Boom! Boom! which made you say: Enough! Mary...Enough! You could no longer contain the joy that overflowed from your little heart, it was too strong for you. Then I imitated the sentries who announced at each train stop the name of the places where travelers get off. Then I shouted out loud: “Bourg-le-roi! Bourg-le-king! (It was the closest station to Alençon) Our hearts were already beating very hard. But when I shouted: Alencon! it was quite another thing...Ah! here is dad who is at the station waiting for us with our little sisters: Léonie, Hélène and Céline! (Soon it will be little Thérèse's turn!) Oh! what joy ! what intoxication! here we are in the rue du Pont Neuf, we can see the house! Later it will be the rue St Blaise then little Thérèse will be born but Hélène will have flown away to Heaven. So, my dear Mother, while giving you the picture of our departure for the holidays, I added sadly: But... no more Hélène!

And our eyes filled with tears. And these pure joys had lost their charms. Little Hélène died on February 22. 1870 on my tenth birthday. When my aunt told me of her death, I cried out in pain. You, my dear Mother, as in all circumstances, you possessed your soul so pure, so profound...in peace. But what pain also expressed itself on your features: I will never forget it. So how bitterly I reproached myself for everything I had refused to my little goddaughter because I was Helene's godmother. She always wanted to sleep with me when we were on vacation, but as I really liked my comfort, I preferred to be alone in my big bed. I remembered all her little wishes as a child and as a child myself, do you know what I did to try to console myself. In the evening when the mistress of the dormitory had made her rounds to see if all the little ones were well settled in their "white chapel", I would step back against the partition, thus leaving a large free space in my bed and I would say: "my little Hélène, come... come... please! Oh ! forgive me for having refused you what gave you so much pleasure! And saying that, how heavy my heart was!

Finally, when the good Lord sent us this new angel called "little Thérèse", the supreme joy of our holidays was to go and see her as a nurse. When I saw myself on the road that led to little Rose's house, I did not possess me of happiness. The wheat fields dotted with large daisies of cornflowers and poppies delighted me, I drank deeply from the cup of life surrounded by all those I loved so much. Dad had given me a hollow watch in which therefore there was nothing, not even a dial, it was simply a watch case. But on the glass I read the time as if there were a dial. Dad was having fun. To have the pleasure of seeing me take this one-of-a-kind watch out of my pocket, he would say to me from time to time, “Marie, tell us what time it is? I wasn't very wrong, and as he looked at his and gave me the exact time, that gave me some assurance for another time. lots of black bread and fresh milk. She couldn't believe her eyes. Her children devoured our white bread with gusto and we begged Mum to give us some good black bread which seemed exquisite to us because we never had any.

But the holidays passed quickly and soon I saw Mum talking about putting our trousseau in order for the start of the school year, so my heart sank and I wasted the last two weeks lamenting. It was always Mama who drove us back to the Visitation. A few meters from the station there was a small barrier where this good little father hastened to run to see us one last time. When the train passed in front of this barrier he waved his handkerchief as a sign of farewell and we were at the door panting with emotion, also waving our handkerchiefs, trying to smile, despite our tears, at the one we loved so much! and which would soon disappear from our eyes. O my God, you alone know the martyrdom we have suffered! Some distance from there the train passed in front of the cemetery. So Mama got up to see the tomb of her little angels from afar, when we were alone in the car she prayed to them aloud. What profound impressions this spectacle produced in my soul! It is quite true that the heart of children is like a soft wax that receives any imprint: that of evil as that of good.

And I, who have received such good impressions, who have seen before my eyes virtues pushed to the point of heroism, ah! how come I'm so unheroic. My God, have pity on my misery!

When we arrived at the Visitation, then began new scenes of tears when it was necessary to say goodbye to our dear mother. One day she forgot to give us the key to the trunk before leaving. I noticed it in time, she had just left. I quickly open the door to the courtyard of the chapel which overlooks the street. I see her indeed but she was already far away so I shout: Mom! Mom ! Seeing that she didn't hear me, I want to rush off to run after her, but the portress sister who was there stops me. No matter how much I tell him that we don't have the key to the trunk, that we won't be able to get our things, that mom is there a few steps away... nothing softens her. He's a real jailer, she closes the door and takes us back to the Convent. I don't know how I could bear being chained up like this, I still wonder. Ah! if I hadn't had my aunt whom I didn't want to upset, I'm sure I wouldn't have stayed 7 years behind the gates because then I didn't have the vocation to be behind the gates; I had not yet heard the call of Jesus! that call which sweetens what is bitter to nature. Did he not say it himself: "No one comes to me unless my Father draws him" Now that he has drawn me I find myself behind my gates the happiest of creatures, I finds himself in possession of true freedom. Ah! it is now that I can say in all truth: “I am quite free! »

My little Mother, I am still only ten years old, I must not confuse my interminable story.

My aunt loved me very much because I was unparalleled in frankness; anything I did wrong I told him right away. Even when I was in the large study hall and was therefore no longer counted among the little ones, as soon as I heard him pass in the long corridor which led to the small class, I asked permission to go out and ran. towards her I said to her with a contrite air: Aunt, I wasted my time again at the beginning of the study, I did this and that. It was a need for me to accuse myself, afterwards I had peace of mind. My aunt was delighted with these arrangements as she writes in her letters to mum. But as I grew older I gave him more to worry about. When I came to tell her, for example, (still accusing myself) “Auntie, I find that there are a lot of repetitions in the Gospel; our Mistress of style however teaches us to avoid repetitions. "This time she assumed a severe and almost indignant air and said to me, "Are you now going to find fault with Our Lord's words? I'm not about to tell her nonsense of this kind since she makes such a big deal out of it. I was then eleven or twelve years old. Another time, however, I said to her: “My aunt, I said my Father backwards to see the devil, do you think I committed a sin? In fact, one of my companions had told me: you know, when you say the Pater backwards, that is to say starting with the end, the devil appears to you. I wanted to know if it was true because my curiosity was heightened. But to be quite sure that the devil wouldn't hurt me, I say it during Mass at the time of Communion. So I looked at the Holy Host and I said within myself. You are there my Jesus, I see you, above all protect me well and don't let the devil take me away. I did not dare to pronounce the last word of the Pater fearing to see the devil appear to me, finally I risked myself to make this act of bravery and I got off with fear.

My aunt was beginning to worry about me because I had indeed some very funny ideas. This good aunt had an altar of Our Lady of Seven Sorrows which she looks her best with large wreaths of artificial flowers which she had made herself. She had purple ones for Holy Week. These flowers had the advantage of displeasing me very much as well as the poor Blessed Virgin and the poor good Jesus! The Blessed Virgin looked so pitiful! It seemed that her Jesus whom she was holding leaning on her knees was going to escape her so much she raised her arms to Heaven. I found this chapel sad as much as possible. And when my aunt took me with her to help her adorn her altar, and she made me dust the many leather flowers that adorned the tower and the front my misfortune was at its height. She was trying, however, this poor aunt to inspire me with thoughts of devotion and compunction, but all I could do was to contain myself so as not to upset her by revealing to her my secret thoughts which were far from be peaceful.

One day, as usual, a whimsical idea occurred to me while she was making me go into raptures in front of her splendid altar. I said to her: But my aunt, I find that flowers are given to the Saints, not for them but for us, because, you see, the flowers are turned towards us while the Blessed Virgin sees only threads. of iron ! I think we should turn the flowers in front of her. Then my good aunt made me understand that to honor myself I did not put my dress inside out in order to have the beautiful side on me and the light came on in my fierce spirit.

 I was doing well in my studies. One year I won nine prizes. It was fine for the Visitation where only absolutely deserved rewards were given; I remember that same year one of my companions left without having a single one. But it cost me so much to go and fetch them that my pleasure was halved, because I had to go through the whole noble assembly of nuns assembled for this feast in their large recreation hall. "La Chambre" and I was very intimidated. Each quarter we also distributed what we called the decorations. They were large ribbons as wide as your hand, ending in a gold or silver fringe, which were worn on Sundays in the form of a shoulder strap. There was the ribbon of religious instruction (white) the ribbon of honor (blue)

45

the working (green) application tape (purple).

One day while awarding me a ribbon the mistress added these words: out of indulgence... Because of that I didn't want to wear it, thinking that since I hadn't quite deserved it it wasn't worth it.

My aunt, who watched over us with truly maternal solicitude, was so afraid that we would only have thoughts of vanity one day when I had tied my hair up with a light purple ribbon. says I don't know what to make me take off my ribbon. She always found our toilets too beautiful, yet they were very simple. Finally one day to attenuate its elegance a little, she took it into her head to tuck in a little lace forming the collar of the dress so that Miss Pauline, your godmother who was taking us out that day, said to us: “My poor children! but you look like you're going to the guillotine with that exposed neck! I who, for the love of God, had endured this gross mortification in silence, I exclaimed: O Mademoiselle, it was not Mama who made our dresses like this, it was my aunt who absolutely wanted to tuck in the lace! »

Our holy aunt also began to worry a little about these days of going out with Miss Pauline. Her brother having a large novelty store in Le Mans: it was at his place that she went down. And my aunt asked me one day this question: Are there many employees at Mr. Romet? O Aunt, at least a hundred! – There were perhaps fifteen of them... – O my poor child, must we exaggerate in this way! However, she went to inquire and, although there were only fifteen, she managed to put a stop to these outings. I had no trouble. What did it matter to me to go out like the other students every month, since it wasn't with my parents.

I was 13 when, during the New Year's holidays, the good Lord sent us our little Thérèse. When I entered Mama's room in the morning, she said to me: "Go kiss your little sister." I approached the cradle, how happy I was! But this happiness did not last long. It was during these few days of vacation that she almost died. But the faith of our dear Mother, her ardent prayer called her back to life. Mom gave us all these details in her letters.

It was in that year also that I had typhoid fever. I fell ill in the spring and they put me in the infirmary. I spent several days there, my aunt came to see me often. I longed for her visits, because I was quite alone, I couldn't see my darling Pauline because they were afraid she would get a fever and I had no distractions. My bed was not even placed near the window but in a corner of the apartment and I could not have any view of the garden. With that I had a burning thirst and nothing to quench my thirst, the good nursing sister was inexorable and out of prudence did not want to give me anything to drink, or very little. I offered this to God, but I said to myself all the same: Oh! if only I were at home! I would go to the cellar and there I would drink my fill of the good cider that makes me want so much! I know mom she wouldn't refuse me, I'm sure. »

Finally, seeing that I was not better, on the contrary, the doctor said that I had to go to my family and as soon as possible. When my aunt told me this news, I did not allow her to see my joy, but it was very great. I was beginning to despair of not having Mama to take care of me, it seemed to me that I was suffocating...I descended the stairs with great difficulty, asking if Pauline was going to come with me; to console me they promised me in a few days. It was Monsieur Vital Romet, Celine's godfather, who drove me home. When this poor little Mother

saw me so ill she was very sad; for me it seemed to me, as soon as I had set foot on the threshold of the house, that I was reborn to life. Mom immediately put me in her room and I stayed in bed for a long time. I was delirious, and my head felt like an enormous weight that I couldn't move. Every time I moved on the pillow it felt like a big stone that I couldn't lift. One day I heard the doctor say to Mama: this child must have taken some grief, because it is rather a bilious fever than a typhoid fever, it is grief which is the cause of this disease. I said to myself quietly: “That's really true! ". And I was almost glad that there was proof of my bitter sorrows. Mom cared for me during this illness as a single mother can. She spent hours by my bed to distract me, to listen to me despite the work with which she was overwhelmed. It was then that I had the time to open my whole heart to her and that she understood all that I had suffered away from her. I saw in one of her letters to my uncle that she understood him because she wrote to him: I would never have believed in such depth of feelings in that child. She confided in me pierced the heart. (If it's not exactly the lyrics, it's still the meaning)

When I was cured, this poor little mother very seriously suggested that I complete my education at Alencon. But I tell her: No, mum, my aunt would have too much trouble, I'd rather go back to the Visitation.

So I returned to the Visitation and then began a new period of my life which does not leave me without some regrets. – Alas! my heart attached itself to the creature and spent itself on it! You know, dear Mother, how much I loved Edith... Edith, I was only beginning to know her because she entered the Visitation at 13 years old. But as soon as I saw her, I felt drawn towards her. His distinction, his angelic air delighted me. Soon I told her the affection I had for her and she loved me too. She confided to me that she had a religious vocation but that her parents who were very worldly would prevent her and that it was necessary to pray a lot. for her. So I found her even more divine and I loved her madly. With Edith began all my mad daydreams. Like most of my companions, she belonged to the nobility, so I would have liked to be noble too, to have a castle and a park like her, to walk in the evening dreaming under enchanting groves, to know the world whose vanity I nevertheless understood. . Edith only stayed a few months at the Visitation; her parents, noticing her pious dispositions, took her home. But my persevering love did not abandon her and I continued to dream of my Edith. What his memory made me suffer! It was no longer the pure suffering of my childhood, but a suffering of daydreams that poisoned my life. During the holidays I thought only of Edith and sensing that the pleasures of the world would make her falter in her resolutions, I said to God in the form of a prayer these verses that I had learned at the Visitation.
On her downcast brow, fade, fade the roses
Erase there, Lord, and youth and beauty
Put a bitterness at the bottom of all things,
On every illusion, a reality...

Edith, in fact, forgot her beautiful dream of religious life and the year I entered Carmel, after many years, I saw her one last time, surrounded by her three sons, the eldest of whom was 6 years old. She was expecting a fourth or rather a fifth child because she had lost a little girl suffocated in her crib. I had difficulty in recognizing her, all her beauty had withered like the flower of the field. For me, I was about to finally fly towards the unique Beauty that does not pass... My dreams of nobility and grandeur were exceeded!...

I left boarding school at 15 and a half. I left the Visitation without regret, I had suffered too much there. My aunt had given me the prayer to St Joseph “O Father and Protector of virgins” advising me to recite it every day. But I had read on this sheet a line that made me tremble: “Special prayer for priests and nuns”. I say to myself: That's right, my aunt would like me to be a nun, there's no danger of me saying that prayer! I was scared to death. One day Mama said to me: “I believe that Pauline will be a nun... And you, Marie, what will you do? – I don't know... but I won't be a nun! - why, then ? What do you dislike so much? – Oh! mom, I don't like everything, first of all I want to be free and then when you're a nun you have to dust the altars and I really don't like that. »

And yet I couldn't hear of marriage. Only once did my mother mention it in front of me and as a joke because I was still only sixteen. I began to burst into tears and begged her never to broach the subject. I'm sure she was delighted to see me like this, while being very surprised since I didn't want to be a nun. But I didn't tell him what I was thinking. The question: marriage humiliated me very much, I found young girls well to be pitied to be delivered into slavery in this way. And I didn't want to sell my noble freedom to a mortal.

How did I manage to stay almost two years without my darling Pauline? I do not know ! Now that she has become "my little Mother" it seems to me that if the good Lord separated me from her, I would die of grief. This is what would certainly have happened if she had gone to China, I would of course have gone to Heaven.

I took care of my little sisters a lot, I spent all my mornings teaching Céline. I put an unparalleled application into it, to the point that I didn't do any manual work during that time, wanting to be all about my business. If I had 20 students, I wouldn't have gone to more trouble. So when Thérèse, who was only three years old, wanted to follow her Céline, I made some difficulties, fearing that this baby would disturb our studies. But she was so wise, so cute that I couldn't refuse her. So she came to settle in my room with Celine and didn't move all the time the lesson lasted. I gave her beads to thread or some cloth to sew. As long as she was with Celine, she was happy. Sometimes her needle unthreaded and she tried in vain to rethread it, it was far too small for such a difficult operation! But she dared not ask for fear that another time the door would not be opened to her. Then big tears fell on her cheeks, but she did not raise her eyes fearing that I would notice. I noticed it, however, and I rethreaded the needle when a troubling smile lit up her sweet face. What a cherub! No, I cannot say how much I loved my little Thérèse. One day I find her at the door of my room, she had moved up the hour of the lesson, I pretended not to be able to open the door; so to show her deep sorrow she lay down on the ground to my great astonishment, without saying a single word, without crying out. Two or three times she had recourse to this great means to express her grief; but I told her that it hurt baby Jesus, and she never did it again.

In the afternoon I worked with Mum and I also spoke, when she saw that I was speaking without making my needle work she told me that I had to work while speaking. Which sometimes put me, alas! in a bad mood and I said nothing more. Poor little Mother! Ah! if I had had more abnegation, what joys I would have given her and which she did not have! not seen the ears of gold with which he was to cover himself one day.

In one of these intimate conversations she told me the following: around the age of twenty or twenty-two, her parents not having any fortune, her mother made her learn from a manufacturer in Point d'Alençon to make this lace . But soon she perceived that in this house her virtue was not safe, and she confided him to her mother. From that day on she never went back. But what to do ? Where will she find resources for the future? She was in this anxiety when the day of the feast of the Immaculate Conception, being alone in her room occupied with making her bed, she distinctly heard these words: "Make the Point d'Alençon make." At these words she remained speechless. Where does this voice come from? She has understood this, yet she remains pensive, repeating to herself with astonishment: "Have the Point d'Alençon done." She was indeed so far from dreaming of such an enterprise. She runs to her sister and tells her what just happened. And this good little Mother added: - How were we able, without any pecuniary resources, so to speak, without any idea of ​​business, to bring everything to a successful conclusion, to find houses in Paris that were willing to give us their confidence? And yet this is what happened and in a short time, because the next day we set to work. And remarkable thing: when it comes to signing a contract with the first house that we undertake to provide, my sister who was the eldest and whose signature was requested being absent, it was I who gave mine. Wasn't that providential? This dear sister indeed entered the Visitation a few months later, leaving me alone to fight in the midst of the world. This is no doubt why the Blessed Virgin spoke to me alone when I heard these words: "Make the Point d'Alençon work."

Mama also told me that after the death of little Hélène she tormented herself a lot, wondering if she was not in Purgatory when she had told a slight lie about a pear she had picked up in the garden without wanting to admit it. This poor little mother tormented herself beyond measure, she suffered so much from this thought that she lost all courage. She went to kneel at the feet of the statue of the Blessed Virgin whom she loved so much to seek some consolation for her grief. A soft voice, that of her Heavenly Mother, was heard once again: "She is there, next to me..." She raises her head thinking she sees the angel she has lost. – O my good Blessed Virgin, she exclaims, there she is, my little Hélène! she is next to you!...” She looks at this blessed place where Mary has told her that her child is, and her tears of pain change into tears of joy.

I return now to my follies of youth:

I still dreamed of Edith, I wrote to her from time to time, I had begged Mama to allow me so much that she finally gave in. Ah! creature love! What a chain my God! what a net that entangles you! What slavery! what an illusion! What a waste of time! I read Madame de Sévigné's letters to learn how to make mine interesting and witty. Yes... that's where I was! One day I asked Mum to have us photographed (again for Edith!) God punished me this time for my pride, I had never been so bad. I also went to see my aunt from time to time when Mum went to pick up my little Pauline for the holidays. I also returned to the Visitation for the retreat for former students and I remember that my aunt absolutely wanted me to speak about my vocation to the Jesuit priest who was preaching the retreat. I didn't even think about my vocation, I didn't have one! Finally, to please him, I went to the parlor where he gave his directions and, without further preamble, I told him that I had come to find out my vocation. I had only one wish, that was for him to give me a meeting holding a decision so that it would be out of the question. I also told him that my aunt wanted me to have a director and if he would take me under his direction. I asked her for her address. Finally, here I am, not at all distraught over my discovery of director and determined never to write to him. That's where my retirement ended. As you can imagine, dear Mother, I didn't have to confide in my poor aunt who was hoping to see me come out of the parlor completely transformed.

Back home, I resumed my life as usual. Mom didn't think I was very pious, she wrote it to my aunt and I received sermons on holiness which, I admit, didn't have much effect on me. I used to say to mum: “I assure you that I love the good Lord very much, much more than you think! So I love to look at the tabernacle very much. It's not worth my lips moving all the time to prove it. Me, I prefer to hide my feelings...” - But mum answered me subtly - “There is no fire without smoke. The fact is that I was not of extraordinary piety, alas! my heart was too entwined!

In this heart, however, there were noble feelings and I had sworn to free this poor Léonie from slavery, from the guardianship of Louise... fear. What then?... She is no longer fascinated by this vulture... who since the age of five held her in his claws! No ! she is fascinated now, like all children, by her mother who smiles at her. From now on she will never leave her, she will follow in her footsteps until the moment when the good Lord in his impenetrable designs will snatch this incomparable mother from us.

Who, then, performed this miracle? Because, as I said, Léonie never came to mum's side despite all the advances she made to her. His answer was always: "I prefer to go with Louise", impossible to get her out of there! Very often I heard this poor little mother say with sadness that she had a child who did not love her. It was one of the cruel pains of his life. It was therefore a very great prodigy to see her suddenly throw herself into her mother's arms. I always saw there a supernatural intervention. Our holy aunt from Le Mans had just died. And it was just after her departure for heaven that she finally came to the aid of her poor Léonie, to whom she had once tried to devote herself. Mother, in fact, at my aunt's insistence, put her to board with us at the Visitation. But she only stayed there for three months, she was too unruly and our parents had to take her back. This is why I believe and I am even certain that the good Lord used Louise as an instrument to tame this nature which seemed indomitable and which became humble and gentle like an angel under the action of grace. .

Shortly after this event, Mama felt the last attacks of the dreadful illness that was going to rob her of us. It was a breast tumor caused by a blow she had given herself in childhood. There was talk of an operation and she went to Lisieux to consult Doctor Notta. But he was already too late. So it was decided that we would go on pilgrimage to Lourdes. Mom took us both with Léonie. With what faith she bathed her little Léonie's forehead with miraculous water. "At least," she said to the Blessed Virgin, "if you don't heal me, heal my child!" Open her intelligence, make her a saint. She was answered on that side, but for her there was no cure and she came back from Lourdes sicker than before. Her illness progressed rapidly and you, my dear Mother, who rejoiced at seeing your period at boarding school ended to live always by her side, you only had to say goodbye to this dear mother after a few weeks. When I think of so much pain, my heart is still pierced by it.

After the trip to Lourdes, my uncle came to Alençon to see Mama. And in the middle of dinner, without further preamble, he said to her: "My poor sister, you mustn't deceive yourself, put your affairs in order because you won't have any for more than a month." » Dad was aghast and he then reproached my uncle for having said things like this to him, without any consideration. - « But, it was she herself who asked me. he answered. “Well, you shouldn't have listened to him,” said this poor little father wisely. "You don't know what harm you have done to her." My uncle had a lot of trouble, because he loved her very much and when he found himself alone with her, he said to her, "I regret what I told you, because after all I don't know the future, the good Lord. can still heal you. But Mama replied that she was not afraid of death and that she only regretted life because of her children. And she added: What will become of poor Louis with his five daughters! Finally I abandon them all to the good Lord! It was then that my uncle advised him to ask Papa to come and live in Lisieux. But she replied that she would never do that, that she knew only too well that to please him he would not hesitate and that she was too afraid that he would be unhappy afterwards to see his life so completely changed. This good little father, having learned these details from my uncle after the death of mother, did not hesitate to change his life for the good of his children. He knew that in Lisieux we would find a new family and he wanted to give us this advantage.

My uncle's prediction came true. After a few weeks our dear Mother went to join the four little angels who were waiting for her in Heaven. But what cruel sufferings she endured during this last month of her life. It was then that Louise, who had begged to stay only to take care of her (because this poor girl had strange contrasts, she loved us very much) assisted her until the end with great devotion. She did not leave the house until we left for Lisieux.

This poor little mother, always forgetful of herself, didn't want anyone at night to watch over her.

I heard her moans and her prayers from my room. “O you who created me, she said, have pity on me! One night when I heard her moan like this, I ran over, despite her denial. She had got up and dragged herself painfully near a table to take what she needed. She begged me not to do it again, saying she could support herself. But papa didn't want to put up with it and asked for a nun nurse to spend the nights. I will never forget her saddened look when she saw the sister enter her room. It was the day before his death. That day, even my uncle and aunt called by a telegram came running to see her one last time. Mom looked at my aunt so deeply that I will never forget her. It seems to me that she read into the future the devotion she would have for us. A few days before, she had exhaled this bitter complaint: “Ah! when I'm gone, who will take care of my poor Léonie? Who will love her? - So I reassured her by saying: -« Me! Mom, I promise you. And I kept my promise, I always had a special affection for her, I always protected her.

The evening of my mother's death, I stayed for a long time near her bed with the sister and I wanted to spend the night there. But she told me there was nothing to fear and sent me to rest. Alas!... around eleven o'clock this poor little father came into my room and said to me, sobbing: “Your little Mother is no more! “Ah! how sorry I was not to have been there at his last moments! But the sister herself had been surprised and had hastily called papa and my uncle, who had only arrived to receive her last breath. Hardly if reality could enter my mind, I spent the night crying. The next day I often went during the day to see my darling mother, I never tired of looking at her. She looked twenty years old. How beautiful I found her! I felt a supernatural impression near her. It seemed to me (which was true) that she was not dead but more alive than ever. Yes, because she had entered real life where we no longer know death.

A few weeks after the departure of our dear Mother for Heaven, Papa called us both and confided to us his resolution to leave Alençon to go and live in Lisieux. I had been warned by my uncle but I acted as if I knew nothing. This good little father told us: “I ask your opinion, my children, because as it is only for you that I am making this sacrifice, I would not like to impose one on you. I replied that we also only wanted his happiness and that we couldn't bear that he sacrificed himself like that for us. But he saw clearly that we had no reluctance to leave Alençon and this generous father decided on the spot for our next move. – “I am going, he said to me, to take the Blessed Virgin to the pavilion from your room, she is so big to be well wrapped up, she would arrive there in pieces. But I said to him: “Oh! no, dad, I'd rather we take her with us, mom loved that Virgin so much! (I had seen this poor little Mother a few days before her death reciting her Rosary on her knees in front of this statue. She was panting and could barely support herself, but she said it anyway on her knees until the end.)

I also remembered that one day when I asked for it to be removed from my room to give me a smaller one, because I thought it was too big and looked like a class statue!... Mom answered me: "When I am no longer here, my daughter, you can do what you want, but as long as I live this Blessed Virgin will not leave here." This word, I had retained it and it was sacred to me.

Since I am on the chapter of the Blessed Virgin I must tell her story. This statue had been given to papa before his marriage by Mademoiselle Félicité Baudoin, an old lady, a saint who was completely devoted to him and had paid the first expenses of his establishment when he founded his watch shop. When I was very small, to be closer to the Blessed Virgin, I remember that I knelt down on the chest of drawers where she was placed, to say my prayers. Later I saw him in the garden of the Pavilion, at the end of an alley in a thicket of foliage. And since I was already reasoning, I said to myself: Really with us, it's like with Mr. le Curé there is a Blessed Virgin in the garden. In my little idea I thought it was too pious. Alas! how the spirit of the world infiltrates, even into the souls of children!

She pushed her courage too far. I forgot to tell of the last mass she attended with me. I thought I wouldn't bring her home alive. Ah! what a mass of anguish I passed. Several people looked at us in astonishment, doubtless wondering how we had been able to get a patient out in such a pitiful state! But she had wanted to go there at all costs, not feeling bad enough to miss Mass on a Sunday. (It was a low Mass). Finally this Blessed Virgin came home and was placed as I said in my room. During the month of May, mother paid a good woman to go and buy hawthorn for her. The branches were never too big; for her to be happy, the Blessed Virgin had to be lost in the flowers. So this good little Mother reflected herself in her month of Mary, which left me with such fresh impressions of piety and poetry that I couldn't tell them.

Ah! my Mother, I will not go beyond all these details. However, I must put an end to my memories of the past...

After my mother's death my life was no longer the same. I no longer thought then of dreaming of Edith but of devoting myself to my little sisters and to Papa. Ah! papa how much I loved him! For nothing in the world would I have wanted to cause him the slightest pain. I can say that I have nothing to reproach myself about. Yes, I have something to reproach myself for: he who loved punctuality so much, I was always late to get to high mass on Sundays and in this respect I made him suffer. I say that I no longer dreamed of Edith, it's true. And yet I still devoted myself, at Les Buissonnets, to making 10 meters of guipure to adorn the cradle of her first child. What madness !

Anyway, I was only seventeen and a half and before throwing myself into your arms, oh my God, I had to make more than one detour! Alas! Why am I not robbed straight away like my little Thérèse. No, my heart had to cling to all the wreckage of happiness brought to me by the flow of life. The time of illusions had not quite passed for me yet. But this wreckage it is you who threw it at me to lead me to You, oh infinite Goodness! For you too, oh my God, you dream of the creature... But you don't dream of it like we do! You dream of it to deify it. You dream of it sometimes, O Mystery! to make her your wife... And it is this dream of love that you have realized for me!

I had just turned 21 (22) when you told me in confidence, dear Mother, that you had the vocation to be a Carmelite. I had known for a long time that you wanted to be a nun at the Visitation of Le Mans and this more or less distant future saddened me greatly. For how can I think of separating myself from you whom I loved so much! of you who made the charm of my life. But the day you spoke to me about the Carmel, I had even more pain. I did not know the Carmel, I did not even know that there was a Carmel in Lisieux, but I knew that it was an austere order where we fasted eight months of the year, where we always thin and I was desperate that the good Lord called you to such a life. Yet I had to resign myself to this thought. We had the same confessor, I noticed that you knew how to express your soul perfectly, while I was like a log. Of the rest that my soul would have entrusted. Your desire to enter the convent did not make the vocation germinate in me, so I had nothing to say. However, I was in a lot of pain and I remember that one day when I came back from confession I burst into tears when I was alone in my room. I then opened the Imitation and there read these words: "Having regained my heart after the storm, recall your strength to the sight of my mercies, for I am near to you, says the Lord, to restore all things, not only with measure but with abundance and filling the measure”.

I immediately felt consoled and I say to you: “Look at what I shot in the Imitation. But it was a mystery to both of us. A few days later a person we knew spoke to us enthusiastically of a holy Jesuit Father who had just preached a retreat near Lisieux. He's a Saint, she added, a real saint like you don't meet. But you can see he's going to give a mission to the Lambert factory. Out of curiosity I went to see the Saint, I attended his Mass and to have nothing to reproach myself with, I entered the confessional saying to myself: Do I have to confess? Should I say on the contrary the real purpose of my visit. I stopped at this last part and I began with these words: My Father, I have come to find you to see a saint. He laughs a little at my simplicity and says to me: well, my child, confess. I made my confession as usual and left without saying more. I say to myself as I leave: if I had known I would not have bothered myself. But then, in the evening, an ardent desire to return to the good Father took hold of me. How to do ? I didn't go out alone unfortunately and I had to entrust my project to Victoire so that she could come with me. I overcame all the obstacles and the next morning I again attended his Mass. I then enter the confessional and I say to him: My Father, I have come to find you again, because I am irresistibly urged to do so. For what ? I do not know. He asked me a few questions, asked me if I wanted to be a nun. No, Father – So you want to get married – Oh! no my father! "But what do you want to do?" Stay an old maid? - Oh ! no, of course ! SO ? ... I'm in a hurry, he told me because I have to take the train in a few moments, but I'll be back in Lisieux in 15 days to preach a retreat at the Refuge. And there I meet you. You will write down all your impressions of religious life, why you do not want it and finally everything you have thought during these days about your vocation. As for me, I really hope to give you to Jesus...” I was caught in his nets...nets of mercy! I returned home with a light heart and filled with a secret joy. So Jesus had also cast a special look of love on me. I was not tempted to imitate the young man in the Gospel and go sadly away from Him.

On the appointed day I went to find Father Pichon with my eight large pages in which I had revealed all the most intimate feelings of my heart. But in order not to influence him, I was careful not to write down what I had thought during my last visit. After my confession I passed my manuscript to him through the small gate and I got up to leave. But he held me back for an hour, reading it in front of me, questioning me and giving me all his thoughts on the spot. I can say that I spent a bad quarter of an hour there. And I, who hadn't wanted a director in the past, had one. And I had chosen it of my own free will! or rather no, it was the good Lord who had chosen it for me. He arrived when I needed him most, when I was going to lose my darling Pauline. I confess that he was for me “the Angel of the Lord”.

He wrote to me from time to time and I wrote to him every fortnight. Ah! I loved him very, very much! Because this affection was pure and brought me to God, I was not afraid to let it grow in my heart. Poor heart ! It seems to me that I took pleasure in surrounding it with thorns. Father Pichon, overwhelmed by his correspondence and his apostolic works which followed one another without interruption since he preached nearly 900 retreats, sometimes left me for a long time without answering my letters. I wrote him fourteen without receiving a single word, but nothing, nothing slowed down my ardor and my persevering affection. His letters too were so fraternal. But it is equal! Now that I'm older, I can see that during those young years of my life I still lived on illusions. For oh my God, why attach oneself so desperately to a creature when it is an angel descended from Heaven? Is she capable of satisfying for a single moment the delirious thirst of a heart made for you and created in your image. No, this finite creature, this nothingness, needs the Infinite. What a mystery! – In 1884 Father Pichon was called to Canada and when he left, only God knows what I still suffered. This good little Father took me to Rouen to say goodbye to him, then we accompanied him to Le Havre in order to better pierce my heart when we saw the boat which was carrying him to America flee.

I still remember the next morning the gentle look of my little Thérèse. I was doing her hair when I left sobbing. (Poor fool!) It does me good to recognize him today. But at that time I already recognized him, because seeing a cloud of sadness on the forehead of this cherub I blamed myself for having come with my tears to darken his so pure sky. – But there, you know, my little Mother, my tribulations with Father Pichon do not end. On his return in 1886 I still had salutary experiences for the greater good of my soul. You remember that trip to Calais where I went in vain to meet him with papa. Ah! I will never forget his kindness in this circumstance. When I asked him to make this trip, he replied: "I have nothing to refuse you, my dear... , it is the case to say it, in front of a penalty. We waited two days in Calais then in Dover for this famous boat which did not arrive. And what added to my pain was to see this good little Father whom I had brought so far away for nothing, it was to think of my little sisters of whom I had deprived myself, I who no longer had only a few days to spend with them.

Back in Paris we found... Fr. Pichon! It was unbelievable. I complained bitterly about my disappointment, telling Papa that I didn't understand why the good Lord hadn't let me enjoy my last joy. But he answered me like a saint: "You mustn't murmur, my Mary, it's because He judged that you needed this ordeal and I consider myself happy to have served as his instrument by leaving you make this trip. I couldn't get over hearing him talk like that. Ah! Mother, it was very true, the good Lord wanted to thereby detach me even more from the earth, even from its most innocent joys. Him ?...

I have gone very far, my dear Mother, I come back to your entry into Carmel. It was therefore going to end for me this so happy time when in the small study, we spent such good times together. You had the gift of charming my life, for it is indeed to you, my little Mother, that these words can be applied: “From whoever loves me, springs of living water will come out. And I drank with delight from this celestial spring. Sometimes I asked you to write me some poetry, for my birthday for example, I didn't leave you alone that you hadn't paid me this tribute. I treasured them all. That of August 15, 1887 addressed to the Blessed Virgin ended thus:
Mary, hear our prayer,
Bless with our love the sweet bond so strong!
Always show yourself our mother,
And hand in hand, lead us to the Port!

Then when evening came we called dad who was at the belvedere, do you remember?... Sometimes we would have preferred to stay alone because then we had to forget ourselves, stop our intimate conversation and interest him by doing some serious reading. . But we loved him too much not to devote ourselves to him on every occasion. It was his joy to spend these evenings with us! You also remember the suppers in the garden near a rosebush in full bloom. This is what Thérèse sang:
O memory, you give me rest,
You remind me of many things...
Evening meals, the scent of roses,
Les Buissonnets full of gaiety
Summer.

After supper Celine learned her lessons. In a quarter of an hour everything had to be known by heart! And then she quickly repeated them to us like a little parrot. If by misfortune we told her that she did not know them, all was lost, the tears flowed she was inconsolable. It is to this family life, my dear Mother, that you said goodbye on October 2, 1882. I will never forget that day and I will be able to give you the details of it hour by hour. When I saw the closing gate close on you that I loved so much, I cried out in pain. This poor little father was admirable as always. You understand our sadness returning to Les Buissonnets without you!...

I resumed my life with courage, doing my best to fill the void left in the home by the little dove that had just taken flight. But each week I returned to Carmel as the source of all my happiness. Ah! how much I repent today of not having shared with my little sisters this parlor which I nevertheless found too short for me. If I had known that my poor little Thérèse had suffered so much! I was far from suspecting it. However, I remember that one day she said to you: “Look, Pauline, I have the little petticoat you made for me. Little attention was paid to his little childish twittering and afterwards I saw tears in his eyes. Poor little girl ! She thought more about it than I thought! Her poor little heart suffered deeply from these brief moments granted to her. And I did not suspect it!

Finally, my dear Mother, before and after you took the habit, came the great ordeal of Thérèse's illness. You will find the details in my deposition. Ah! my Mother, it seemed to me then that the story of the holy man Job was ours and that Satan, appearing before the Lord, had said to him as before: "It is not surprising if your servant praises you, you fill him with goods! Strike him then in his own person and you will see if he will not curse your name...” But the Name of the Lord was not cursed, he was always blessed in the midst of the most bitter trials.

Then came the time for me too to enter Carmel. One day, in the visiting room, I remember that you asked me when I intended to enter. As I did not have a vocation of attraction, I answered you that I would enter when the good Lord told me to, but that until then he had not yet shown me his will clearly enough. So you say to me: “But don't believe that He will appear to you for that. It's time for you to make a decision. I was going to be 26. - I will not make any decision, I continued, since he knows very well that I want to do his will, he will rather send me an angel to tell me. It was then, dear Mother, that you wrote to Father Pichon. And a few days later I saw a letter arrive in which he asked me how old Celine was and if it would soon be possible for me to respond to God's call. I suspected nothing and I remained speechless. The hour of sacrifice had therefore come for me! Ah! I saw it that hour without enthusiasm. I had to say goodbye to a father I loved! I had to abandon my little sisters! However, I didn't hesitate for a moment and I told Papa this great confidence. He sighed upon hearing such a revelation! He was far from expecting it because nothing could lead one to suppose that I wanted to be a nun. He choked like a sob and said to me: “Ah!...Ah!...But...without you!!...He couldn't finish. And I, in order not to soften him, answered with assurance: "Céline is old enough to replace me, you'll see, dad, everything will be fine", then this poor little father said to me: "The good Lord could not ask me for more. great sacrifice! I thought you would never leave me! And he kissed me to hide his emotion.

I am crying, my little Mother, while writing these memories. Isn't everything crying out to me to become a Saint?...

I then wrote to my uncle and my aunt to inform them of my decision. But they didn't want to believe me, they were absolutely amazed. Me the independent! I, who always seemed to be unable to endure convents, was going to become a nun! They could not recover from their astonishment.

I entered Carmel on October 15, 1886. As I passed through the cloister on my way to the Choir, I cast a glance into the courtyard. Anyway, I didn't come here to see funny things. That was my enthusiasm!

I entered the Choir where Mother Geneviève was in adoration before the Blessed Sacrament. His air of peace and holiness struck me. Then with you, my little Mother, I was sent for a walk in the garden. My enthusiasm did not grow. The garden seemed so small compared to the immense garden of the Visitation of Le Mans and then everything seemed so poor to me. I didn't even think of the happiness of being with you, I only thought of wondering how I would manage to spend my life between these four walls. Ah! my Mother, I found Jesus between these four walls and by finding him I found Heaven. Yes, this is where I spent the happiest years of my life. However, they were not exempt from crosses, because you know the ones who came to visit us! First, the ordeal of our dear father's illness, that ordeal that Thérèse called "our great wealth".

During the exile of our poor little Father to the Good Savior, one day, during Mass, I saw the price of this cross so clearly that I would not have wanted to exchange it for all the treasures of the earth. And yet you know what we have suffered! My little Mother, in the Heaven of Carmel, I also saw years of martyrdom for you and my heart was pierced by it... Yes, alongside the holiness of Mother Geneviève, I saw alas, in a other, many miseries and it was you, sweet lamb who was immolated to the jealousy of this poor Mother***. Who counted all these sufferings? Who understood this martyrdom? Ah! How many hidden pearls will one day shine in your crown

Finally, my darling Mother, a great ordeal which perhaps surpassed all the others, came to affect us in our loneliness. That one, Heaven alone has the secret...

My little Mother, what else can I say to you? Ah! if trials have swooped down on us, graces have also fallen there in torrents. At the Carmel, the two little doves that we had left in the paternal nest flew away after us. Thérèse and Céline we saw them by our side! Yes, they came there, to share our life! We saw Thérèse die...of love! Tell me if the measure of our joys has not exceeded that of our pains? ... But our life has not come to an end and more than one cross still awaits us. Sometimes I wonder with anguish? Which will remain the last of us three? But why not abandon oneself to the One who proportions his grace to the cross, to the One who has showered us with so many blessings. So I want to say to him like Thérèse: “Lord, you fill me with joy with everything you do! Doesn't the Cross indeed hide eternal joys from us!...

24th May 1909

Sheets added: 12 p. in double sheets 

My darling little Mother, I forgot several things in the detail that I gave you of my poor life. First in my childhood memories I forgot to tell you that when I was confirmed I took the name Josephine to show my great devotion to St Joseph. But what was my surprise and my disappointment when I saw that most of my companions had had the same idea as me. So it seemed to me that St Joseph was not going to pay attention to me, nor to love me more than the others and I was in great pain.

Another childhood memory that is deeply engraved in my memory: It's when Daddy Sunday amused us with marbles of all colors. When I saw her big golden ball especially rolling, I looked at her with admiration. I seemed to have something of the wealth and power of the good Lord since he had the power to make us so happy! And then this big golden marble it was rolling in semi-darkness, which made it even brighter, because you know everything was closed downstairs on Sundays. So Sunday seemed to me a day in heaven. It was indeed one since this good little Father observed it so faithfully and the big golden ball shone even more in the eyes of the good Lord than in mine.

Another memory still comes to me every time I hear my uncle talk to us about selling the Roulée property. I only went there once with dad I was then ten or twelve years old, but he gave me such a good little lesson in humility that I never forgot it. We both crossed the large meadows that make up the property and while doing this long walk I picked small flowers from time to time and at the end I said to Dad: "I am going to take these flowers to the Visitation in memory of Roulée .” He replied: “That's it! "And then you'll make little trouble with your friends by showing them the flowers on your estate..."

I cannot tell you, dear Mother, to what extent I was taken aback and so mortified to see that Papa divined these thoughts of silly vanity which I did not admit too much to myself, but which nevertheless were real. So I threw my bouquet in the grass to show Papa that I didn't care.

I didn't much like the toilet, but in this contempt for all coquetry there was also pride, because pride nestles everywhere, even in what seem beautiful feelings of humility. So (I think I've already said it) when I was wearing my dress it was a real martyrdom for me, but especially when this poor little mother dreamed of putting us in white for the processions of the feast of the Assumption. in Alençon it was my nightmare. So as not to hurt me, she didn't talk about it anymore. Why so much resistance on my part? Alas! it's because I lacked simplicity because you, my little Mother, didn't ask for anything better. It was I alone who didn't want to. It was not distinguished enough for me, I thought it was good for the students of Providence but not for us. It is true that in Alencon one saw old maids in white up to forty and fifty years old, which was not done to give me courage.

I couldn't bear to wear my veil either. It seemed to me that it was openly displaying one's vanity to imprison one's face in tulle in order to pretend to be beautiful. When it was a large veil that was tied in front like we wore in Lisieux, I liked that because then we had the face really hidden, but the little white veils which only serve to make the complexion more mat displeased me supremely. This is why on the day of Leonie's First Communion my complexion was not dull (although I had one of those beautiful veils) but crimson to the point that on leaving the church the milliner who had made my hat asked if I was ill. I answered no, but that it was impossible for me to have my face squeezed and compressed to this point, and I was freed from this fashionable mask.

If you remember, my little Mother, Dad had given us a beautiful gold medallion. It was still the fashion in those days to tie it around the neck with black velvet. Far from taking pride in it, I felt a kind of shame. It seemed to me that I looked like a little lap dog when I had that famous velvet around my neck.

But I recognize it well, I was not more humble to have these feelings, on the contrary, I find rather that it was refined pride. In the meantime I am enjoying in Carmel the true freedom promised to the children of God. When I see through the gate of the choir the people who are at the Communion table I am seized with a kind of stupefaction. I say to myself: Is it possible that the world is so mad! How ugly it is to adorn yourself with the feathers of birds like the savages! And I look around me...And I wonder by what privilege I am one of those wise virgins who do not have to ask themselves: "Where does wisdom dwell" because they themselves walk in "his ways." It was especially the days following my taking of the habit that I appreciated my happiness the best. Every morning it seemed to me to put on a costume of freedom, so for me it was a costume of celebration. It was the case to say as in my childhood “I am very free! To enter the choir, there is no other toilet to do than to roll down your sleeves. It was unbelievable how happy I was!

I did not speak to you, my little Mother, of my impressions on the day of my profession. I have no other memory of it except that it looks exactly like that of my First Communion. My soul was at peace: Jesus had called me and I had come to Him. What happiness can be compared to that of responding to his voice. He had called me...Him! And I was careful not to imitate the young man in the Gospel who walked away with sadness from Him who is the inexhaustible source of all joy. Who will be able to understand what it is to be called by God. What a mystery! Is he not the Master of his creature? And he invites her to love him... He asks her if she wants to love him. But since he is Love he cannot act otherwise because love must be free. Only what is touching is that he desires to be loved and appreciates the love of his poor little creature.

The evening of my profession I cried like the evening of my first communion because the second beautiful day of my life had passed! (It was Thérèse who gave me the crown of roses on the day of my profession).

Now my little Mother, I want to talk to you about the impression Thérèse made on me the day she entered Carmel. I can't say that I felt a sense of happiness when I saw her go through the gate. No, because I was thinking of that poor little Father who was going to be deprived of his treasure. But she ! What a celestial creature! I seemed to see an angel. And how she had grown my little Thérèse. Through the grid we do not realize as when we are next to someone. Yes, she seemed to me very tall and also very pretty. The good Lord had placed all the graces in her. When you think that in Carmel her beauty was from the first days a subject of jealousy for poor Th. de J. who said (to console herself) that she was not at all rare. I heard this with pity, finding that this diamond was indeed too brilliant to live buried among these large stones... So Jesus took it upon himself to put it in honor and to make it shine with his divine Face before the entire universe and this... until the consumption of centuries! Thus, wherever the Bridegroom will be, we will hear of his little Bride, of the one who prayed so magnificently to the Child God, the God with the poor Face. »

But, my darling little Mother, next to this diamond a beautiful fine pearl also shone.

Because of the diamond the fine pearl has often been bruised and trampled on because it too was hidden and is still hidden among the stones. But one day it will shine with such a gentle brilliance that it will be a beneficent light for the saints, as it already is for so many unfortunate people here below. O my little Mother, what sufferings in your life! Who will be able to say the martyrdom that human jealousy has made you suffer or rather the jealousy of the demon, because it is he who is the principle of all evil. Ah! that I suffered (crossed out) to have seen you suffer so much. But if I have seen you suffer, I have thereby seen your virtues, your charity, your gentleness which resembles that of Jesus. This is why the fine pearl and the diamond shine with the same brilliance in his eyes... For me, my Heaven would be beautiful enough to contemplate them, their glory will be mine.

You want me, dear Mother, to tell you about Joan of Arc's play in which I played a fairly decent role for the first time in my life, because you know that I was not good at it because of my foolish timidity.

But that day I had forgotten myself so much for the others, devoting myself until the last minute to dressing them so that they appeared with advantage, that the good Lord took charge of my person. I was not at all intimidated and I was full of my subject.

As you know, Thérèse played the role of Joan of Arc and I represented France. It was I who sang for the first time: Remember Jeanne of your victories etc. Saying: I come to you with arms laden with chains, I advanced towards her so that she could remove them. She struck me as a real Joan of Arc. What a noble and warlike air! Ah! she was indeed a Joan of Arc. I had also fulfilled, but in the first part, the role of Ste Catherine, the previous year. (It was in 1. – In 1894, in the 1895nd part of this play where Sr M. du SC personified France, it was Sr Geneviève de la Ste Face who represented Ste Catherine).

Jeanne was alone and talking to herself she said: “Ah! if God commanded me to retire to a remote solitude I would not hesitate to leave my dear parents in order to obey him. But it is to war that I must go... I must fight at the head of an army... Oh! No ! it's impossible ! After a few moments of silence, as she was crying, hiding her face in my hands, I went to stand beside her and touching her lightly I said to her: "Jeanne!" And that's when I sang [an excerpt from the Pious Recreation No. 1 of Therese]:
I am the Virgin Catherine,  
I come from Heaven to console you
Having the divine mission
To bless you, to keep you...
Like you, I was on earth,
A beloved child of the Lord
His tenderness was so dear to me
That I dedicated my heart to him.
Then a little later this second passage which almost made me cry when I said to her, looking at her with a tenderness that only you can understand, my little Mother...
I am your sister and your friend
I will always watch over you
Because in the eternal Fatherland
You will be placed near me.
Soon the celestial hills
where the virgin flock grazes
Will open their divine springs to you
Transparent like a crystal
And in the countryside
with your companions
You will follow the Lamb
Singing the new song. [RP 1 folio 12 back]

If you had seen his angelic look looking at me and also his expression of love so deep that responded to mine! I can say that at that moment I tasted something of Heaven's happiness.

Here is the circumstance in which she said that she would make it rain roses: the year of her death the life of St Louis de Gonzague was read in the refectory. The week I read it, they were telling of this charming trait. – A person who asked for his healing at St Louis de Gonzague knew that he was going to be answered, by seeing roses falling gently on his bed. Immediately after the refectory Therese said to me in an accent that I will never forget: “I too will make it rain roses after my death. And you know, my dear Mother, if she kept her word.

What more shall I tell you? You can quote facts, but there are feelings in the soul that cannot be expressed. Since our souls are one, you know everything that goes on in the heart of your little Marie. Ah! it is the gratitude that most often overflows from his heart in the presence of all the graces that the good Lord has given us. My darling Mother, the least of these graces is not that of living by your side, of crossing the stormy seas of this life with you while waiting for us to enjoy eternal life together. Ah! how dear you are to me! No, my little Mother, you will only know in Heaven how much I love you. 

Your little Mary.
June 29 feast of St Peter and St Paul 1910