One day Leonie, thinking no doubt that she was too big to play with dolls, brought us a basket filled with clothes, pretty pieces of stuff, and other trifles on which her doll was laid:  “Here, dears,” she said, “choose whatever you like.”  Celine looked at it, and took a woollen ball.  After thinking about it for a minute, I put out my hand saying:  “I choose everything,” and I carried off both doll and basket without more ado.

This childish incident was a forecast, so to speak, of my whole life.  Later on, when the way of perfection was opened out before me, I realised that in order to become a Saint one must suffer much, always seek the most perfect path, and forget oneself.  I also understood that there are many degrees of holiness, that each soul is free to respond to the calls of Our Lord, to do much or little for His Love—­in a word, to choose amongst the sacrifices He asks.  And then also, as in the days of my childhood, I cried out:  “My God, I choose everything, I will not be a Saint by halves, I am not afraid of suffering for Thee, I only fear one thing, and that is to do my own will.  Accept the offering of my will, for I choose all that Thou willest.”

But, dear Mother, I am forgetting myself—­I must not tell you yet of my girlhood, I am still speaking of the baby of three and four years old.

I remember a dream I had at that age which impressed itself very deeply on my memory.  I thought I was walking alone in the garden when, suddenly, I saw near the arbour two hideous little devils dancing with surprising agility on a barrel of lime, in spite of the heavy irons attached to their feet.  At first they cast fiery glances at me; then, as though suddenly terrified, I saw them, in the twinkling of an eye, throw themselves down to the bottom of the barrel, from which they came out somehow, only to run and hide themselves in the laundry which opened into the garden.  Finding them such cowards, I wanted to know what they were going to do, and, overcoming my fears, I went to the window.  The wretched little creatures were there, running about on the tables, not knowing how to hide themselves from my gaze.  From time to time they came nearer, peering through the windows with an uneasy air, then, seeing that I was still there, they began to run about again looking quite desperate.  Of course this dream was nothing extraordinary; yet I think Our Lord made use of it to show me that a soul in the state of grace has nothing to fear from the devil, who is a coward, and will even fly from the gaze of a little child.

Dear Mother, how happy I was at that age!  I was beginning to enjoy life, and goodness itself seemed full of charms.  Probably my character was the same as it is now, for even then I had great self-command, and made a practice of never complaining when my things were taken; even if I was unjustly accused, I preferred to keep silence.  There was no merit in this, for I did it naturally.