d destines to become an apostle of apostles by prayer
and sacrifice?

In the afternoon, when Vespers were over, I found the opportunity
I wanted. My Father was sitting in the garden, his hands clasped,
admiring the wonders of nature. The rays of the setting sun gilded
the tops of the tall trees, and the birds chanted their evening
prayer.

His beautiful face wore a heavenly expression--I could feel that
his soul was full of peace. Without a word, I sat down by his
side, my eyes already wet with tears. He looked at me with
indescribable tenderness, and, pressing me to his heart, said:
"What is it, little Queen? Tell me everything." Then, in order to
hide his own emotion, he rose and walked slowly up and down, still
holding me close to him.

Through my tears I spoke of the Carmel and of my great wish to
enter soon. He, too, wept, but did not say a word to turn me from
my vocation; he only told me that I was very young to make such a
grave decision, and as I insisted, and fully explained my reasons,
my noble and generous Father was soon convinced. We walked about
for a long time; my heart was lightened, and Papa no longer shed
tears. He spoke to me as Saints speak, and showed me some flowers
growing in the low stone wall. Picking one of them, he gave it to
me, and explained the loving care with which God had made it
spring up and grow till now.

I fancied myself listening to my own story, so close was the
resemblance between the little flower and little Therese. I
received this floweret as a relic, and noticed that in gathering
it my Father had pulled it up by the roots without breaking them;
it seemed destined to live on, but in other and more fertile soil.
Papa had just done the same for me. He allowed me to leave the
sweet valley, where I had passed the first years of my life, for
the mountain of Carmel. I fastened my little white flower to a
picture of Our Lady of Victories--the Blessed Virgin smiles on
it, and the Infant Jesus seems to hold it in His Hand. It is there
still, but the stalk is broken close to the root. God doubtless
wishes me to understand that He will soon break all the earthly
ties of His Little Flower and will not leave her to wither on this
earth.

Having obtained my Father's consent, I thought I could now fly to
the Carmel without hindrance. Far from it! When I told my uncle of
my project, he declared that to enter such a severe Order at the
age of fifteen seemed to him against all common