sole happiness of earth
consists in lying hidden, and remaining in total ignorance of
created things. I understood that without love even the most
brilliant deeds count for nothing. These gifts, which Our Lord
lavished upon me, far from doing me any harm, drew me towards Him;
I saw that He alone is unchangeable, He alone can fill the vast
abyss of my desires.

Talking of my desires, I must tell you about others of quite a
different kind, which the Divine Master has also been pleased to
grant: childish desires, like the wish for snow on my clothing
day. You know, dear Mother, how fond I am of flowers. When I made
myself a prisoner at the age of fifteen, I gave up for ever the
delights of rambling through meadows bright with the treasures of
spring. Well, I never possessed so many flowers as I have had
since entering the Carmel. In the world young men present their
betrothed with beautiful bouquets, and Jesus did not forget me.
For His Altar I received, in abundance, all the flowers I loved
best: cornflowers, poppies, marguerites--one little friend only
was missing, the purple vetch. I longed to see it again, and at
last it came to gladden me and show that, in the least as in the
greatest, God gives a hundred-fold, even in this life, to those
who have left all for His Love.

But one desire, the dearest of all, and for many reasons the most
difficult, remained unfulfilled. It was to see Celine enter the
Carmel of Lisieux. However, I had made a sacrifice of my longing,
and committed to God alone the future of my loved sister. I was
willing she should be sent to far distant lands if it must be so;
but I wanted above all things to see her like myself, the Spouse
of Jesus. I suffered deeply, aware that she was exposed in the
world to dangers I had never even known. My affection for her was
maternal rather than sisterly, and I was filled with solicitude
for the welfare of her soul.

She was to go one evening with my aunt and cousins to a dance. I
know not why, but I felt more anxious than usual, and I shed many
tears, imploring Our Lord to hinder her dancing. And this was just
what happened; for He did not suffer His little Spouse to dance
that evening, although as a rule she did so most gracefully. And,
to the astonishment of everyone, her partner, too, found that he
was only able to walk gravely up and down with Mademoiselle. The
poor young man slipped away in confusion, and did not dare appear
again that evening. This