limbs, her mouth against His mouth,
streaming the while with blood like Him, and steeped like Him in
bitterness! Jesus died in three hours, but a longer agony fell to her,
who again brought redemption by pain, who died to give others life. When
her bones ached with agony she would sometimes utter complaints, but she
reproached herself immediately. "Oh! how I suffer, oh! how I suffer! but
what happiness it is to bear this pain!" There can be no more frightful
words, words pregnant with a blacker pessimism. Happy to suffer, O Lord!
but why, and to what unknown and senseless end? Where is the reason in
this useless cruelty, in this revolting glorification of suffering, when
from the whole of humanity there ascends but one desperate longing for
health and happiness?

In the midst of her frightful sufferings, however, Sister Marie-Bernard
took the final vows on September 22, 1878. Twenty years had gone by since
the Blessed Virgin had appeared to her, visiting her as the Angel had
visited the Virgin, choosing her as the Virgin had been chosen, amongst
the most lowly and the most candid, that she might hide within her the
secret of King Jesus. Such was the mystical explanation of that election
of suffering, the _raison d'etre_ of that being who was so harshly
separated from her fellows, weighed down by disease, transformed into the
pitiable field of every human affliction. She was the "garden inclosed"*
that brings such pleasure to the gaze of the Spouse. He had chosen her,
then buried her in the death of her hidden life. And even when the
unhappy creature staggered beneath the weight of her cross, her
companions would say to her: "Do you forget that the Blessed Virgin
promised you that you should be happy, not in this world, but in the
next?" And with renewed strength, and striking her forehead, she would
answer: "Forget? no, no! it is here!" She only recovered temporary energy
by means of this illusion of a paradise of glory, into which she would
enter escorted by seraphims, to be forever and ever happy. The three
personal secrets which the Blessed Virgin had confided to her, to arm her
against evil, must have been promises of beauty, felicity, and
immortality in heaven. What monstrous dupery if there were only the
darkness of the earth beyond the grave, if the Blessed Virgin of her
dream were not there to meet her with the prodigious guerdons she had
promised! But Bernadette had not a doubt; she willingly undertook all the