> [[tcj-soas-ics-03-a|← Previous]] | [[tcj-soas-ics-toc|TOC]] | [[tcj-soas-ics-03-c|Next →]] # Chapter III. The Distressing Years I was eight and a half when Léonie left boarding school and I replaced her at the Abbey. [[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-48|48]] I have often heard it said that the time spent at [-15-] school is the best and happiest of one’s life. It wasn’t this way for me. The five years I spent in school were the saddest in my life, and if I hadn’t had Céline with me, I couldn’t have remained there and would have become sick in a month. The poor little flower had become accustomed to burying her fragile roots in [-20-] a _chosen_ _soil_ made purposely for her. It seemed hard for her to see herself among flowers of all kinds with roots frequently indelicate; and she had to find in this _common soil_ the food necessary for her sustenance! You had instructed me so well, dear Mother, that when I went to boarding school I was the most advanced of the children of my age. I was placed, as a result, in [22v°] a class where the pupils were all older than I. One of them was about thirteen or fourteen and she wasn’t too intelligent, but she was really adept at influencing the students and even the teachers. When she noticed I was so young, almost always first in the class, and loved by all the sisters, [-5-] she experienced a jealousy pardonable in a student. She made me pay in a thousand ways for my little successes. As I was timid and sensitive by nature, I didn’t know how to defend myself and was content to cry without saying a word andwithout complaining _even to you_ about what I was suffering. I didn’t have enough [-10-] virtue, however, to rise above these miseries of life, so my poor little heart suffered very much. Each evening I was back at home, fortunately, and then my heart expanded. I would jump up on Papa’s lap, telling him about the marks they were giving me, and his kiss made me forget my [-15-] troubles. How happy I was to announce the results of my _first composition_, one in sacred history, where I missed getting the maximum grade by _one point_ only, and this because I didn’t know the name of Moses’ father. I was then the first and was wearing a beautiful silver badge. Papa rewarded me by giving me a _pretty little coin_ worth [-20-] four sous. I placed it in a box which was to receive a new coin of the same _value_ every Thursday. It was from this box that I drew my offerings on the big feasts when there were special collections for the Propagation of the Faith or similar works. Pauline, delighted with her little student’s success, gave her a [23r°] pretty hoop to encourage her in her studies. The poor little thing needed these family joys very much, for without them life at the boarding school would have been too hard. Each Thursday afternoon was a holiday, but this wasn’t [-5-] like Pauline’s holidays; and I wasn’t in the belvédère with Papa. I had to play, not with Céline, which pleased me very much when I was alone with her, but with my little cousins and the little Maudelondes. [[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-49|49]] This was a real penance for me because I didn’t know how to play like other children and as a consequence [-10-] wasn’t a very pleasant companion. I did my best, however, to imitate them but without much success. I was very much bored by it all, especially when we spent the whole afternoon _dancing quadrilles_. What I really liked, though, was going to the park,[[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-50|50]] for there I was first in everything, gathering flowers in great profusion and, knowing how to [-15-] find the prettiest, I excited the envy of my companions.What pleased me was when by chance I was alone with little Marie and, not having Céline Maudelonde dragging her into _ordinary games_, she left me free to choose, and I chose a game that was entirely new. Marie and Thérèse became two [-20-] _hermits_, having nothing but a poor hut, a little garden where they grew corn and other vegetables. Their life was spent in continual contemplation; in other words, one _hermit_ replaced the other at prayer while she was occupied in the active life. Everything was done with such mutual understanding, silence, and so religiously that it was just perfect. When Aunt came to fetch us to go for our walk, we continued the game even on the street. The two hermits recited [23v°] the rosary together, using their fingers in order to screen their devotion from the inquisitive public; however, one day the younger hermit forgot herself completely: having received a piece of cake for lunch, she made a big sign of the Cross over it before eating it, causing [-5-] people to laugh. Cousin Marie and I were always of the same opinion and our tastes were so much the same that once our _union of wills_ passed all bounds. Returning one evening from the Abbey, I said to Marie: “Lead me, I’m going to close my eyes.” “I want to close mine too,” she replied. [-10-] No sooner said than done; without _arguing_, each did her _will_. We were on a sidewalk and there was nothing to fear from vehicles; having savored the delights of walking without seeing, the two little scamps fell _together_ on some cases placed at the door of a store, or rather [-15-] they tipped them over. The merchant came out in a rage to lift up his merchandise, while the two blind ones lifted themselves up alone and walked off at _great strides_, eyes _wide open_, listening to the just reproaches of Jeanne who was as angry as the merchant! To punish us she decided to separate us, and since that day [-20-] Marie and Céline went together while I made the trip with Jeanne. This put an end to our great _union of wills_. And this wasn’t a bad idea since the two older ones, Jeanne and Céline, were never of the same opinion and used to argue all the way home. Peace was then complete. I have said nothing of my close relationship with Céline and [24r°] if I had to recount everything I would never come to an end. At Lisieux the roles had changed, for Céline had become a naughty little rascal and Thérèse was no longer anything but a sweet little girl, much given to crying. This did not prevent Céline [-5-] and Thérèse from loving each other more and more, but at times there were little arguments. These were not of a serious nature and basically they were both of the same mind. I can truly say that _never_ did my little sister cause me any _trouble_, but was always a ray of sunshine for me, giving me much joy and consolation. Who can [-10-] say with what intrepidity she defended me at the Abbey when I was accused of something? She took such a good care of my health that I was wearied with her at times. What never wearied me, though, was _to see her at play_. She arranged our group of little dolls and conducted class like a truly clever teacher. [-15-] She took care that her girls were always good, while mine were often put out of class because of bad behavior. She used to tell me all the new things she had just learned in class, which amused me very much; I looked upon her as a fountain of knowledge. I had received the name: “Céline’s little girl,” [-20-] and when she was irritated with me, her greatest sign of displeasure was to say: “You’re no longer my little girl; that’s over with, and I’ll _always_ _remember it!_” All I had to do was to start crying like a Magdalene, begging her to consider me still as her “little girl.” Very soon she kissed me and promised me _to remember nothing_. To console me once she took one of her dolls and [24v°] said: “My dear, embrace your aunt!” The doll was in such a rush to embrace me tenderly that her two little arms went up _my nose_. Céline, who hadn’t done it purposely, looked at me stupefied; the doll was dangling from my nose. Aunt, of course, was not long in warding [-5-] off the excessivelytender embraces of her _niece_ and began laughing heartily at such a strange incident. It was most amusing to see us buying our New Year’s presents together at the bazaar, carefully staying out of each other’s way. Having ten sous to spend, we had to buy at least five or six different objects, and the [-10-] contest was to see who would buy the most _beautiful things_. Delighted with our purchases, we waited impatiently for the first day of the year in order to offer each other our _magnificent presents_. The one who awakened before the other rushed to wish her a Happy New Year, and then they gave each other the gifts; each went into ecstasy over the treasures we bought for ten sous! [-15-] These little gifts afforded us almost as much pleasure as _Uncle’s_ _beautiful presents_. But this was only the beginning of these joys. That day we were dressed as quickly as possible, and then we were on the watch to jump up on Papa’s neck; as soon as he came out of his room our shrieks of joy resounded through the whole house and this poor little father appeared happy to [-20-] see us so content. The gifts Marie and Pauline gave their little girls also gave them _great joy_, though the gifts had no great value. Ah! it was because we were not _blasé_ at this age; our soul in all its freshness was expanding like a flower content to receive the morning’s dew. Our petals were swayed by the same breeze; what gave one joy or pain did [25r°] exactly the same to the other. Yes, our joys were in common. I felt this especially on the beautiful day when Céline made her First Communion. I wasn’t going to the Abbey as yet because I was only seven, but I have preserved a very sweet memory of the preparation [-5-] you, my dear mother, had Céline make. You took her, each evening, on your knees and spoke to her of the great action she was about to perform; I listened eagerly in order to prepare myself also, but very often you told me to go away as I was too little. Then my heart was very heavyand I thought [-10-] four years was not too long to prepare to receive God. One evening, I heard you say that from the time one received one’s First Communion, one had to commence living a new life, and I immediately made the resolution not to wait for that day but to commence the very same time as Céline. Never had I felt I loved her as much [-15-] as I did during her three-day retreat; for the first time in my life, I was separated from her and I didn’t sleep in her bed. The first day, forgetting she was not going to return, I kept a small bunch of cherries that Papa had brought me in order to eat them with her . When I didn’t see her returning home, I was really sad. Papa [-20-] consoled me by saying he would take me the next day to the Abbey to see my Céline and that I would give her another bunch of cherries! The day of Céline’s First Communion left me with an impression similar to my own First Communion. When awakening in the morning all alone in the big bed, I felt _inundated with joy_. “It’s today! The great day has arrived.” I [25v°] repeated this over and over again. It seemed it was I who was going to make my First Communion. I believe I received great graces that day and I consider it one of the most _beautiful_ in my life. I have fallen a little behind in recalling that delightful and [-5-] sweet memory, and now I must speak of the sorrowful trial that broke little Thérèse’s heart when Jesus took away her dear _Mama_, her tenderly loved _Pauline!_ I had said to Pauline, one day, that I would like to be a hermit and go away with her alone in a faraway desert place. She answered that my [-10-] desire was also hers and that she _was waiting_ for me to be big enough for her to leave. This was no doubt not said seriously, but little Thérèse had taken it seriously; and how she suffered when she heard her dear Pauline speaking one day to Marie about her coming entrance into Carmel. I didn’t know what Carmel was, but I [-15-] understood that Pauline was going to leave me to enter a convent.I understood, too, she _would not wait for me_ and I was about to lose my second _mother!_ Ah! how can I express the anguish of my heart! In one instant, I understood what life was; until then, I had never seen it so sad; but it appeared to me in all its reality, and [-20-] I saw it was nothing but a continual suffering and separation. I shed bitter tears because I did not yet understand the _joy_ of sacrifice. I was _weak,_ so _weak_ that I consider it a great grace to have been able to support a trial that seemed to be far above my strength! If I had learned of my dear Pauline’s departure very gently, I would not have suffered as much perhaps, but [26r°] having heard about it by surprise, it was as if a sword were buried in my heart. I shall always remember, dear Mother, with what tenderness you consoled me. Then you explained the life of Carmel to [-5-] me and it seemed so beautiful! When thinking over all you had said, I felt that Carmel was the _desert_ where God wanted me to go also to hide myself. I felt this with so much force that there wasn’t the least doubt in my heart; it was not the dream of a child led astray but the _certitude_ of a [-10-] divine call; I wanted to go to Carmel not for _Pauline’s_ _sake_ but for _Jesus alone_. I was thinking _very much_ about things that words could not express but which left a great peace in my soul. The next day, I confided my secret to Pauline; she considered my desires as the will of heaven and told me that soon I would go with her [-15-] to see the mother prioress of the Carmel and that I must tell her what God was making me feel. A Sunday was chosen for this solemn visit, and my embarrassment was great when I learned that Marie Guérin was to stay with me since she was still small enough to see the Carmelites. I had to find a way, however, to remain alone with the prioress and this is [-20-] what entered my mind: I said to Marie that since we had the privilege of seeing Mother Prioress, we should be very nice and polite and to do this we would have to confide our _secrets_ to her. Each one in turn was to leave the room and leave the other all alone for a moment. Marie took me on my word,and, in spite of her repugnance of confiding _secrets she didn’t have_, we remained alone, one after the other, with Mother Prioress. [26v°] Having listened to my _great confidences_, Mother Marie de Gonzague believed I had a vocation, but she told me they didn’t receive postulants at the age of _nine_ and that I must wait till I was sixteen. I resigned myself in spite of my intense desire to enter as soon as possible and to make my First Communion [-5-] the day Pauline received the habit. It was on this day I received compliments for the second time. Sister Teresa of St. Augustine came to see me and did not hesitate to say that I was pretty. I had not counted on coming to Carmel to receive praises like this, and after the visit I did not cease repeating to God that it was for [-10-] _Him alone_ I wished to be a Carmelite. I took great care to profit from my dear Pauline during the few weeks she still remained in the world. Every day, Céline and I bought her cake and candy, thinking that later on she would never eat these anymore; we were always by her side and never gave her a moment’s [-15-] rest. Finally, _October_ 2 arrived, a day of tears and blessings when Jesus gathered the first of His flowers, who was to be the _mother_ of those who would come to join her a few years later. I still see the spot where I received _Pauline’s_ last kiss; and then Aunt brought us to Mass, while Papa went [-20-] to Mount Carmel to offer his _first sacrifice_. The whole family was in tears so that people who saw us coming into the church looked at us in surprise. But it was all the same to me and it didn’t prevent me from crying. I believed that if everything crumbled around me, I would have paid no attention whatsoever. I looked up at the beautiful blue skies and was astonished the Sun was shining with [27r°] such brightness when my soul was flooded with sadness! Perhaps, dear Mother, you find I am exaggerating the pain I was experiencing? I readily admit that it should not have been as great, since I had the hope of finding you again in Carmel; [-5-] but my soul was FAR from being _mature_, andI was to pass through many crucibles of suffering before attaining the end I so much desired. October 2 was the day set for my return to the Abbey, and I had to go there in spite of my sadness. In the afternoon, Aunt came to get us to go to Carmel and I saw _my Pauline_ behind [-10-] the _grille_. Ah! how I suffered from this _visit_ to Carmel! Since I am writing the story of my soul, I must tell my dear Mother everything, and I admit that the sufferings which preceded your entrance were nothing in comparison with those which followed it. Every Thursday we went _as a family_ to Carmel and I, accustomed to talk heart to heart with _Pauline_, obtained with great [-15-] trouble two or three minutes at the end of the visit. It is understood, of course, that I spent them in crying and left with a broken heart. I didn’t understand that it was through consideration for Aunt that you were directing your words to Jeanne and Marie instead of speaking to your little girls. I didn’t understand and I said in the depths of my heart: “Pauline [-20-] is lost to me!” It is surprising to see how much my mind developed in the midst of suffering; it developed to such a degree that it wasn’t long before I became sick. The sickness which overtook me certainly came from the demon; infuriated by your entrance into Carmel, he wanted to take revenge on me for the wrong our family was to do him in the future. But he did not know that the [27v°] sweet Queen of Heaven was watching over her fragile little flower, that she _was smiling_ on her from her throne in heaven and was preparing to stop the storm the moment her flower was to break without any hope of recovery. Toward the end of the year, I began to have a constant headache. [-5-] It didn’t cause me much suffering. I was able to pursue my studies and nobody was worried about me. This lasted until Easter 1883. Papa had gone to Paris with Marie and Léonie, and Aunt had taken me and Céline with her into her home. One evening Uncle took me for a walk and spoke about Mama and about past memories with a kindness that [-10-] touched me profoundly and made me cry. Then he told me I was too softhearted, that I needed a lot of distraction, and he was determined to give us a good time during our Easter vacation. He and Aunt would see to it. That night we were to go to the Catholic Circle meeting, but finding I was too fatigued, Aunt made me go to bed; when I was undressing, I was seized with [-15-] a strange trembling. Believing I was cold, Aunt covered me with blankets and surrounded me with hot water bottles. But nothing was able to stop my shaking, which lasted almost all night. Uncle, returning from the meeting with my cousins and Céline, was very much surprised to see me in this state, which he judged to be very serious. He didn’t want to say this [-20-] in order not to frighten Aunt. He went to get Doctor Notta the next day, and he judged, as did Uncle, that I had a very serious illness and one which had never before attacked a child as young as I. Everybody was puzzled. Aunt was obliged to keep me at her home, and she took care of me with a truly _maternal_ solicitude. When Papa returned from Paris with my older sisters, Aimée [[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-51|51]] met them at the door with such a sad face that Marie [28r°] believed I had died. This sickness was not “unto death,” but like that of Lazarus it was to give glory to God.[[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-52|52]] And God was glorified by the admirable resignation of my poor little _father_, who thought his “_little girl was going crazy or was about to die_.” [-5-] God was glorified too by _Marie’s_ resignation! Ah! how she suffered because of me, and how grateful I am to her for the care she lavished upon me with such unselfishness. Her heart dictated what was necessary for me and really a _mother’s_ heart is more _discerning_ than a doctor’s, for it knows how to _guess_ at what is suitable for its child’s sickness. [-10-] Poor Marie was obliged to come and live at Uncle’s because it was impossible to bring me back at the time to Les Buissonnets. However, Pauline’s taking of the habit was approaching.[[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-53|53]] They avoided talking about it in my presence, knowing the pain I felt, but I spoke about it often and said I would be well enough to go and seemy dear Pauline. [-15-] In fact, God did not want to refuse me this consolation; or rather, He wished to console His dear _Fiancée_ who suffered so much because of her little girl’s sickness. I have noticed that Jesus doesn’t want to try His children on the day of their espousals, for this day must be without any clouds, a foretaste of heaven’s joys. Has He not shown us this five times? [[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-54|54]] [-20-] I was, then, able to kiss my dear mother, to _sit on her knees_ and give her many caresses. I was able to contemplate her who was so beautiful under the white adornment of a bride. Ah! how _beautiful that day_ was, even in the midst of my dark trial, but it passed by quickly. Soon I had to climb into the carriage which took me to Les Buissonnets, far from Pauline and from my beloved Carmel. [[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-55|55]] When we reached home, they put me to bed in spite of my assurances that [28v°] I was perfectly cured and needed no further attention. Alas! my trial was only commencing! The next day I had another attack similar to the first, and the sickness became so grave that, according to human calculations, I wasn’t to recover from it. I can’t describe this [-5-] strange sickness, but I’m now convinced it was the work of the devil. For a long time after my cure, however, I believed I had become ill on purpose and this was a _real martyrdom_ for my soul. I told Marie this and with her usual _kindness_ she reassured me. I told it too in confession and my confessor tried to [-10-] calm me, saying it was not possible to pretend illness to the extent that I had been ill. God, willing no doubt to purify and especially to _humble me_, left me with this _interior martyrdom_ until my entrance into Carmel, where the _Father_ of our souls,[[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-56|56]] as with the wave of his hand, removed all my doubts. Since then I am perfectly calm. [-15-] It isn’t surprising that I feared having appeared sick when I wasn’t sick in reality because I said and did things that were not in my mind. I appeared to be almost always delirious, saying things that had no meaning. And still I am _sure_ that I _was not deprived of the_ _use of my reason for one single instant_. I often appeared to be in a faint, [-20-] not making the slightest movement, and then I would have permitted anyone to do anything he wished, even to kill me, and yet I heard everything that was said around me and can still remember everything. Once it happened that for a long time I was without the power to open my eyes and to open them an instant when I was alone. I believe the devil had received an _external_ power over me but [29r°] was not allowed to approach my soul nor my mind except to inspire me with very great _fears_ of certain things,[[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-57|57]] for example, very simple remedies they tried in vain to make me accept. But although God permitted the devil to come near me, [-5-] He also sent me visible angels. Marie was always by my bedside, taking care of me and consoling me with a mother’s tenderness. Never did she show the slightest sign of annoyance, and still I gave her a lot of trouble, not even allowing her to be away from me. She had to go and eat her meals with Papa, but I never [-10-] stopped calling her all the time she was away. Victoire, who was taking care of me, was at times obliged to go and get my dear “Mama” as I was calling her. When Marie wanted to go out, it had to be either to attend Mass or to go to see _Pauline_, and then I said nothing. Uncle and Aunt were very good to me; dear little [-15-] Aunt came every day to visit me and brought a thousand goodies. Other friends of the family came to visit me also, but I begged Marie to tell them I wanted no visits. It displeased me to “_see people seated around my bed_ _LIKE A ROW OF ONIONS, looking at me as though I were a strange_ _beast._” The only visit I liked was that of Uncle and Aunt. [26]Since this sickness, I cannot express how much my affection for them has increased. I understand better than ever before that they were not just ordinary relatives to us. Ah! this poor little father was very right when he spoke the words I have just written, and repeated them so often. Later on he was to experience that he wasn’t wrong, and so now from heaven he ought to protect and bless those who gave him such devoted care and attention. I, still an exile on earth and not knowing how to show my gratitude, have [-30-] only one means of consoling myself and that is by praying for these relatives whom I love and who were and still remain so good to me! [-20-] Léonie was also very kind to me. She tried to amuse me as well as she could. I sometimes caused her some pain as she was easily able to see that Marie could be replaced by no one. And dear Céline, what did she not do for her Thérèse? On Sundays, instead of going out for a walk, she would close herself in for hours to be with a poor little girl who was like an idiot. Really, [29v°] it took love for anyone not to fly far from me. Ah! my dear little sisters, how I made all of you suffer! No one ever caused you as much _trouble_ as I, and no one ever received as much _love_ as you bestowed on me. Happily, I shall have heaven to avenge myself, for my Spouse [-5-] is very rich and I shall draw from His treasures of _love_ to repay you a hundredfold for all you suffered on my account. My greatest consolation when I was sick was to receive a letter from _Pauline_. I read and reread it until I knew it by heart. Once, dear Mother, you sent me an hourglass and one [-10-] of my dolls dressed as a Carmelite; it was impossible for me to express my joy. Uncle wasn’t too happy, and said that instead of making me think of Carmel, it would be better to remove it from my mind. I am quite convinced, on the contrary, that the thought of one day becoming a Carmelite made me live. I enjoyed working for Pauline. I made her little things [-15-] out of cardboard and my greatest occupation was to make crowns for the Blessed Virgin out of daisies and forget-me-nots. We were at the time in the beautiful month of May, and nature was adorned with flowers and was bursting out with joy. The “_little flower_” alone was languishing and seemed forever withered.However, she had a Sun near her, and this Sun was the _miraculous_ _statue_ of the Blessed Virgin [-20-] that had spoken to Mama twice,[[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-58|58]] and the little flower often, very often, turned her petals toward this blessed Star. One day I saw Papa enter Marie’s room where I was in bed. He gave her several pieces of gold with an expression of great sadness and told her to write to Paris and have some Masses said at Our Lady of Victories so that she would cure his poor little girl. Ah! how touched I was to see my dear king’s faith and love! [30r°] I would have loved to be able to tell him I was cured; but I had already given him enough false joys, and it wasn’t my desires that could work a miracle, and a _miracle_ was necessary for my cure. A miracle was necessary and it was our Lady of Victories who worked it. One Sunday[[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-59|59]] [-5-] during the Novena of Masses, Marie went into the garden, leaving me with Léonie who was reading near the window. After a few moments I began calling in a low tone: “Mama, Mama.” Léonie, accustomed to hearing me always calling out like this, didn’t pay any attention. This lasted a long time, and then I called her much louder. Marie finally returned. I [-10-] saw her enter, but I cannot say I recognized her and continued to call her in a louder tone: “Mama.” _I was suffering very much_ from this forced and inexplicable struggle and Marie was suffering perhaps even more than I. After some futile attempts to show me she was by my side,[[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-60|60]] Marie knelt down near my bed with Léonie and Céline. [-15-] Turning to the Blessed Virgin and praying with the fervor of a mother begging for the life of her child, _Marie_ obtained what she wanted. Finding no help on earth, poor little Thérèse had also turned toward the mother of heaven, and prayed with all her heart that she take pity on her. All of a sudden the Blessed Virgin appeared _beautiful_ to me, so _beautiful_ that [-20-] never had I seen anything so attractive; her face was suffused with an ineffable benevolence and tenderness, but what penetrated to the very depths of my soul was the “_ravishing smile of the Blessed Virgin_.” At that instant, all my pain disappeared, and two large tears glistened on my eyelashes, and flowed down my cheeks silently, but they were tears of unmixed joy. Ah! I thought, the Blessed Virgin smiled at me, how happy I am, [30v°] but never will I tell anyone for my _happiness would then_ _disappear_. Without any effort I lowered my eyes, and I saw Marie who was looking down at me lovingly; she seemed moved and appeared to surmise the favor the Blessed Virgin had given me. Ah! it was really to her, to her touching prayers that [-5-] I owed the grace of the Queen of Heaven’s _smile_. Seeing my gaze fixed on the Blessed Virgin, she cried out: “Thérèse is cured!” Yes, the little flower was going to be born again to life, and the luminous _Ray_ that had warmed her again was not to stop its favors; the Ray did not act all at once, but sweetly and gently it raised the little flower and strengthened her in such a way that five years later she was expanding [-10-] on the fertile mountain of Carmel. As I said, Marie had guessed that the Blessed Virgin had given me some hidden grace. When I was alone with her and she asked me what I had seen, I was unable to resist her very tender and pressing questions; astonished at seeing my secret discovered without my having revealed it, [-15-] I confided it entirely to my dear Marie. Alas! just as I had felt, my happiness was going to disappear and change into bitterness. The memory of the ineffable grace I had received was a real _spiritual trial_ for me for the next four years, and I was not to find my happiness again until I was kneeling at the feet of Our Lady of Victories. [[tcj-soas-ics-20#^tcj-fn-ch3-61|61]] At this time, my happiness was restored to me in _all its_ [-20-] _fullness_. I shall talk later on about this second grace of the Blessed Virgin. At present I shall explain, my dear Mother, how my joy was changed into sadness. Marie, after having heard the simple and sincere recital of “my grace,” asked me for permission to tell it at Carmel, and I could not say no. On my first visit to this dear Carmel, I was filled with joy when seeing my _Pauline_ with the habit of the Blessed Virgin. [31r°] It was a sweet moment for both of us. There were so many things to say that I couldn’t say anything at all, my heart was too full. Good Mother Marie de Gonzague was there also, giving me a thousand signs of affection; I saw the other sisters, and in their presence [-5-] I was questioned about the grace I had received. They asked me if the Blessed Virgin was carrying the Child Jesus, or if there was much light, etc. All these questions troubled me and caused me much pain, and I was able to say only one thing: “The Blessed Virgin had appeared _very beautiful_, and I had seen her _smile at me_.” It was her _countenance alone_ that had struck me, [-10-] and seeing that the Carmelites had imagined something else entirely (my spiritual trials beginning already with regard to my sickness), I thought I _had lied_. Without any doubt, if I had kept my secret I would also have kept my happiness, but the Blessed Virgin permitted this torment for my soul’s good, as perhaps without it I would have had some thought of vanity, whereas [-15-] _humiliation_ becoming my lot, I was unable to look upon myself without a feeling of _profound horror_. Ah! what I suffered I shall not be able to say except in heaven!. --- ## Footnotes ## Chapter 3 48\. A boarding school conducted by the Benedictine nuns and established at the beginning of the 16th century, near the Abbey of Notre-Dame-du-Pré, Lisieux. ^tcj-fn-ch3-48 49\. First cousins of Jeanne and Marie Guérin. Madame Maudelonde, the sister of Madame Guérin (1843–1926), had two sons and three daughters: MargueriteMarie, Céline, and Hélène. ^tcj-fn-ch3-49 50\. The park was called Le jardin de l’ étoile. ^tcj-fn-ch3-50 51\.. Aimée Roger, cook for the Guérin family. ^tcj-fn-ch3-51 52\. [[john-11#^john-11-4|Jn 11:4]]\. ^tcj-fn-ch3-52 53\. It was to take place April 6, 1883\. ^tcj-fn-ch3-53 54\. An allusion to the taking of the habit of four of her sisters, besides her own. ^tcj-fn-ch3-54 55\. Thérèse didn’t attend the ceremony. She was brought back to Les Buissonnets instead of her uncle’s, where she became sick. ^tcj-fn-ch3-55 56\. Father Almire Pichon, S.J. (1843–1919). ^tcj-fn-ch3-56 57\. “I was absolutely terrified by everything: my bed seemed to be surrounded by frightful precipices; some nails in the wall of the room took on the appearance of big black charred fingers, making me cry out in fear. One day, while Papa was looking at me in silence, the hat in his hand was suddenly transformed into some indescribably dreadful shape, and I showed such great fear that poor Papa left the room, sobbing” (_Histoire d’une Ame_). ^tcj-fn-ch3-57 58\. She was wrong as it was only once. After our little sister Hélène’s death, Mama was disturbed at the thought of a little lie the child had told. She was praying in front of the statue, regretting she hadn’t brought the child to confession and fearing she was in purgatory, when she heard these words: “She is here by my side” (note of Mother Agnes of Jesus). ^tcj-fn-ch3-58 59\. Pentecost Sunday, May 13, 1883\. ^tcj-fn-ch3-59 60\. “Marie said something in a whisper to Léonie, then disappeared, pale and trembling. Little Léonie carried me to the window; I saw Marie in the garden but didn’t recognize her still. She was walking slowly, extending her arms to me, smiling, and calling in her most tender voice: ‘Thérèse, my little Thérèse!’ This last attempt failed” (_Histoire d’une_ _Ame_). ^tcj-fn-ch3-60 61\. November 4, 1887, the eve of her trip to Rome. ^tcj-fn-ch3-61 --- **Source:** [[scriptorium/books-personal/personal-bibliography#^biblio-tcj-soas-ics|Thérèse, *Story of a Soul*]] > [[tcj-soas-ics-03-a|← Previous]] | [[tcj-soas-ics-toc|TOC]] | [[tcj-soas-ics-03-c|Next →]]