sed in a casket of white marble.
The exterior mattered little to us, it was in the _diamond_ itself
that we wished to receive the Bread of Angels. My Father, with his
habitual gentleness, followed the other pilgrims, but his
daughters, less easily satisfied, went towards the Holy House.

God favoured us, for a Priest was on the point of celebrating
Mass; we told him of our great wish, and he immediately asked for
two hosts, which he placed on the paten. You may picture, dear
Mother, the ecstatic happiness of that Communion; no words can
describe it. What will be our joy when we communicate eternally in
the dwelling of the King of Heaven? It will be undimmed by the
grief of parting, and will know no end. His House will be ours for
all eternity, and there will be no need to covet fragments from
the walls hallowed by the Divine Presence. He will not give us His
earthly Home--He only shows it to us to make us love poverty and
the hidden life. What He has in store for us is the Palace of His
Glory, where we shall no longer see Him veiled under the form of a
child or the appearance of bread, but as He is, in the brightness
of His Infinite Beauty.

Now I am going to tell you about Rome--Rome, where I thought to
find comfort and where I found the cross. It was night when we
arrived. I was asleep, and was awakened by the porters calling:
"Roma!" The pilgrims caught up the cry and repeated: "Roma, Roma!"
Then I knew that it was not a dream, I was really in Rome!

Our first day, and perhaps the most enjoyable, was spent outside
the walls. There, everything retains its stamp of antiquity,
whilst in Rome, with its hotels and shops, one might fancy oneself
in Paris. This drive in the Roman Campagna has left a specially
delightful impression on my mind.

How shall I describe the feelings which thrilled me when I gazed
on the Coliseum? At last I saw the arena where so many Martyrs had
shed their blood for Christ. My first impulse was to kiss the
ground sanctified by their glorious combats. But what a
disappointment! The soil has been raised, and the real arena is
now buried at the depth of about twenty-six feet.

As the result of excavations the centre is nothing but a mass of
rubbish, and an insurmountable barrier guards the entrance; in any
case no one dare penetrate into the midst of these dangerous
ruins. But was it possible to be in Rome and not go down to the
real Coliseum? No, indeed! And I no longer listened to the guide