y could not correct myself of this miserable
fault. How, then, could I hope soon to be admitted to the Carmel?
A miracle on a small scale was needed to give me strength of
character all at once, and God worked this long-desired miracle on
Christmas Day, 1886.

On that blessed night the sweet Infant Jesus, scarce an hour old,
filled the darkness of my soul with floods of light. By becoming
weak and little, for love of me, He made me strong and brave; He
put His own weapons into my hands, so that I went from victory to
victory, beginning, if I may say so, "to run as a giant."[1] The
fountain of my tears was dried up, and from that time they flowed
neither easily nor often.

Now I will tell you, dear Mother, how I received this inestimable
grace of complete conversion. I knew that when we reached home
after Midnight Mass I should find my shoes in the chimney-corner,
filled with presents, just as when I was a little child, which
proves that my sisters still treated me as a baby. Papa, too,
liked to watch my enjoyment and hear my cries of delight at each
fresh surprise that came from the magic shoes, and his pleasure
added to mine. But the time had come when Our Lord wished to free
me from childhood's failings, and even withdraw me from its
innocent pleasures. On this occasion, instead of indulging me as
he generally did, Papa seemed vexed, and on my way upstairs I
heard him say: "Really all this is too babyish for a big girl like
Therese, and I hope it is the last year it will happen." His words
cut me to the quick. Celine, knowing how sensitive I was,
whispered: "Don't go downstairs just yet--wait a little, you would
cry too much if you looked at your presents before Papa." But
Therese was no longer the same--Jesus had changed her heart.

Choking back my tears, I ran down to the dining-room, and, though
my heart beat fast, I picked up my shoes, and gaily pulled out all
the things, looking as happy as a queen. Papa laughed, and did not
show any trace of displeasure, and Celine thought she must be
dreaming. But happily it was a reality; little Therese had
regained, once for all, the strength of mind which she had lost at
the age of four and a half.

On this night of grace, the third period of my life began--the
most beautiful of all, the one most filled with heavenly favours.
In an instant Our Lord, satisfied with my good will, accomplished
the work I had not been able to do during all these years. Like
the Apostle I