, and the lame, and thou shalt be
blessed, because they have naught wherewith to make thee
recompense, and thy Father Who seeth in secret will repay thee."[9]

What feast can I offer my Sisters but a spiritual one of sweet and
joyful charity! I know none other, and I wish to imitate St. Paul,
who rejoiced with those who rejoiced. It is true that he wept with
those who wept, and at my feast, too, the tears must sometimes
fall, still I shall always try to change them into smiles, for
"God loveth a cheerful giver."[10]

I remember an act of charity with which God inspired me while I
was still a novice, and this act, though seemingly small, has been
rewarded even in this life by Our Heavenly Father, "Who seeth in
secret."

Shortly before Sister St. Peter became quite bedridden, it was
necessary every evening, at ten minutes to six, for someone to
leave meditation and take her to the refectory. It cost me a good
deal to offer my services, for I knew the difficulty, or I should
say the impossibility, of pleasing the poor invalid. But I did not
want to lose such a good opportunity, for I recalled Our Lord's
words: "As long as you did it to one of these my least brethren,
you did it to Me."[11] I therefore humbly offered my aid. It was
not without difficulty I induced her to accept it, but after
considerable persuasion I succeeded. Every evening, when I saw her
shake her sand-glass, I understood that she meant: "Let us go!"
Summoning up all my courage I rose, and the ceremony began. First
of all, her stool had to be moved and carried in a particular way,
and on no account must there be any hurry. The solemn procession
ensued. I had to follow the good Sister, supporting her by her
girdle; I did it as gently as possible, but if by some mischance
she stumbled, she imagined I had not a firm hold, and that she was
going to fall. "You are going too fast," she would say, "I shall
fall and hurt myself!" Then when I tried to lead her more quietly:
"Come quicker . . . I cannot feel you . . . you are letting me go!
I was right when I said you were too young to take care of me."

When we reached the refectory without further mishap, more
troubles were in store. I had to settle my poor invalid in her
place, taking great pains not to hurt her. Then I had to turn back
her sleeves, always according to her own special rubric, and after
that I was allowed to go.

But I soon noticed that she found it very difficult to cut her
bread, so I