tle lambs find me severe; if
they were to read these lines, they would say that, so far as they
can see, it does not distress me to run after them, and show them
how they have soiled their beautiful white fleece, or torn it in
the brambles. Well, the little lambs may say what they like--in
their hearts they know I love them dearly; there is no fear of my
imitating "the hireling . . . who seeth the wolf coming and
leaveth the sheep, and flieth."[6]

I am ready to lay down my life for them, and my affection is so
disinterested that I would not have my novices know this. By God's
help, I have never tried to draw their hearts to myself, for I
have always understood that my mission was to lead them to Him and
to you, dear Mother, who on this earth hold His place in their
regard, and whom, therefore, they must love and respect.

I said before, that I have learnt much by guiding others. In the
first place I see that all souls have more or less the same
battles to fight, and on the other hand, that one soul differs
widely from another, so each must be dealt with differently. With
some I must humble myself, and not shrink from acknowledging my
own struggles and defeats; then they confess more readily the
faults into which they fall, and are pleased that I know by
experience what they suffer. With others, my only means of success
is to be firm, and never go back on what I have once said;
self-abasement would be taken for weakness.

Our Lord has granted me the grace never to fear the conflict; at
all costs I must do my duty. I have more than once been told: "If
you want me to obey, you must be gentle and not severe, otherwise
you will gain nothing." But no one is a good judge in his own
case. During a painful operation a child will be sure to cry out
and say that the remedy is worse than the disease; but if after a
few days he is cured, then he is greatly delighted that he can run
about and play. And it is the same with souls: they soon recognise
that a little bitter is better than too much sweet, and they are
not afraid to make the acknowledgment. Sometimes the change which
takes place from one day to another seems almost magical.

A novice will say to me: "You did well to be severe yesterday; at
first I was indignant, but when I thought it all over, I saw that
you were quite right. I left your cell thinking: 'This ends it. I
will tell Our Mother that I shall never go to Soeur Therese
again'; but I knew this was the devil's