ess of His Love. Happy are we who are privileged to
understand the inmost secrets of Our Divine Spouse. If you, dear
Mother, would but set down in writing all you know, what wonders
could you not unfold!

But, like Our Blessed Lady, you prefer to _keep all these things
in your heart._[7] To me you say that "It is honourable to reveal
and confess the world of God."[8] Yet you are right to keep
silence, for no earthly words can convey the secrets of Heaven.

As for me, in spite of all I have written, I have not as yet
begun. I see so many beautiful horizons, such infinitely varied
tints, that the palette of the Divine Painter will alone, after
the darkness of this life, be able to supply me with the colours
wherewith I may portray the wonders that my soul descries. Since,
however, you have expressed a desire to penetrate into the hidden
sanctuary of my heart, and to have in writing what was the most
consoling dream of my life, I will end this story of my soul, by
an act of obedience. If you will allow me, it is to Jesus I will
address myself, for in this way I shall speak more easily. You may
find my expressions somewhat exaggerated, but I assure you there
is no exaggeration in my heart--there all is calm and peace.

O my Jesus, who can say how tenderly and gently Thou dost lead my
soul! The storm had raged there ever since Easter, the glorious
feast of Thy triumph, until, in the month of May, there shone
through the darkness of my night one bright ray of grace. . . . My
mind dwelt on mysterious dreams sent sometimes to Thy favoured
ones, and I thought how such a consolation was not to be
mine--that for me, it was night, always the dark night. And in the
midst of the storm I fell asleep. The following day, May 10, just
at dawn, I dreamt that I was walking in a gallery alone with Our
Mother. Suddenly, without knowing how they had entered, I
perceived three Carmelites, in mantles and long veils, and I knew
that they came from Heaven. "Ah!" I thought, "how glad I should be
if I could but look on the face of one of these Carmelites!" And,
as if my wish had been heard, I saw the tallest of the three
Saints advance towards me. An inexpressible joy took possession of
me as she raised her veil, and then covered me with it.

At once I recognised our Venerable Mother, Anne of Jesus,
foundress of the Carmel in France.[9] Her face was beautiful with
an unearthly beauty; no rays came from it, and yet, in spite of
the thick veil