sus during this retreat has been to
detach me from everything but Himself. My only comfort is the
exceeding strength and peace that is mine. Besides, I hope to be
just what He wills I should be, and in this lies all my happiness.

Did you but know how great is my joy at giving pleasure to Jesus
through being utterly deprived of all joy! . . . . Truly this is
the very refinement of all joy--joy we do not feel.

V

September 7, 1890.

To-morrow I shall be the Spouse of Jesus, of Him Whose "look was
as it were hidden and despised."[3] What a future this alliance
opens up! How can I thank Him, how render myself less unworthy of
so great a favour?

I thirst after Heaven, that blessed abode where our love for Jesus
will be without bounds. True, we must pass through suffering and
tears to reach that home, but I wish to suffer all that my Beloved
is pleased to send me; I wish to let Him do as He wills with His
"little ball." You tell me, dearest Godmother, that my Holy Child
is beautifully adorned for my wedding-day;[4] perhaps, however,
you wonder why I have not put new rose-coloured candles. The old
ones appeal to me more because they were lighted for the first
time on my clothing-day. They were then fresh and of rosy hue.
Papa had given them to me; he was there, and all was joyful. But
now their tint has faded. Are there yet any rose-coloured joys on
earth for your little Therese? No, for her there are only heavenly
joys; joys where the hollowness of all things gives place to the
Uncreated Reality.

VI

MY DEAREST SISTER,--I do not find it difficult to answer
you. . . . How can you ask me if it be possible for you to love
God as I love Him! My desire for martyrdom is as nothing; it is
not to that I owe the boundless confidence that fills my heart.
Such desires might be described as spiritual riches, which are
_the unjust mammon,_[5] when one is complacent in them as in
something great. . . . These aspirations are a consolation Jesus
sometimes grants to weak souls like mine--and there are many
such! But when He withholds this consolation, it is a special
grace. Remember these words of a holy monk: "The martyrs
suffered with joy, and the King of Martyrs in sorrow." Did not
Jesus cry out: "My father, remove this chalice from Me"?[6] Do
not think, then, that my desires are a proof of my love. Indeed
I know well that it is certainly not these desires which make
God take pleasure in my soul. What does please Him is