hide anything.

My first victory was not a great one, but it cost me a good deal.
A small jar, left behind a window, was found broken. No one knew
who had put it there, but our Mistress was displeased, and,
thinking I was to blame in leaving it about, told me I was very
untidy and must be more careful in future. Without answering, I
kissed the ground and promised to be more observant. I was so
little advanced in virtue that these small sacrifices cost me
dear, and I had to console myself with the thought that at the day
of Judgment all would be known.

Above all I endeavoured to practise little hidden acts of virtue;
thus I took pleasure in folding the mantles forgotten by the
Sisters, and I sought for every possible occasion of helping them.
One of God's gifts was a great attraction towards penance, but I
was not permitted to satisfy it; the only mortification allowed me
consisted in mortifying my self-love, and this did me far more
good than bodily penance would have done.

However, Our Lady helped me with my wedding-dress, and, as soon as
it was finished, every obstacle vanished and my profession was
fixed for September 8, 1890.

All that I have set down in these few words would take many pages
to relate; but those pages will never be read on earth. . . .
______________________________

[1] Nuns, in the spirit of poverty, avoid using the word _my,_ as
denoting private possessions; so, later on, "our lamp," "our
handkerchief," will occur. [Ed.]

[2] John 18:36.

[3] _Imit.,_ I, ii. 3.

[4] Is. 53:3.

[5] Leonie, having entered an order too severe for her delicate
health, had been obliged to return home to her Father. Later she
became a Visitation nun at Caen, and took the name of Sister
Frances Teresa.

[6] Cf. Wisdom 3:5,6.

[7] Ps. 89[90]:15.

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CHAPTER VIII PROFESSION OF SOEUR THERESE

Need I tell you, dear Mother, about the retreat before my
profession? Far from receiving consolation, I went through it in a
state of utter dryness and as if abandoned by God. Jesus, as was
His wont, slept in my little barque. How rarely do souls suffer
Him to sleep in peace! This Good Master is so wearied with
continually making fresh advances that He eagerly avails Himself
of the repose I offer Him, and, no doubt, He will sleep on until
my great and everlasting retreat; but, instead of being grieved at
this, I am glad.

In truth I am no Saint, as this frame of mind well shows.