“How comes it,” I said, “that you can be so patient?  You are ever the same—­calm and full of joy.”  “It was not always the case with me,” she replied, “but since I have abandoned all thought of self-seeking, I live the happiest life possible.”

* * * * * *

Our dear Mistress used to say that during recreation, more than at any other time, we should find opportunities for practising virtue.

“If your desire be to draw great profit, do not go with the idea of procuring relaxation, but rather with the intention of entertaining others and practising complete detachment from self.  Thus, for instance, if you are telling one of the Sisters something you think entertaining, and she should interrupt to tell you something else, show yourself interested, even though in reality her story may not interest you in the least.  Be careful, also, not to try to resume what you were saying.  In this way you will leave recreation filled with a great interior peace and endowed with fresh strength for the practice of virtue, because you have not sought to please yourself, but others.  If only we could realise what we gain by self-denial in all things!”

“You realise it, certainly, for you have always practised self-denial.”

“Yes, I have forgotten myself, and I have tried not to see myself in anything.”

* * * * * *

“When some one knocks at our door, or when we are rung for, we must practise mortification and refrain from doing even another stitch before answering.  I have practised this myself, and I assure you that it is a source of peace.”

After this advice, and according as occasion offered, I promptly answered every summons.  One day, during her illness, she was witness of this, and said: 

“At the hour of death you will be very happy to find this to your account.  You have just done something more glorious than if, through clever diplomacy, you had procured the good-will of the Government for all religious communities and had been proclaimed throughout France as a second Judith.”

* * * * * *

Questioned as to her method of sanctifying meals, she answered: 

“In the refectory we have but one thing to do:  perform a lowly action with lofty thoughts.  I confess that the sweetest aspirations of love often come to me in the refectory.  Sometimes I am brought to a standstill by the thought that were Our Lord in my place He would certainly partake of those same dishes which are served to me.  It is quite probable that during His lifetime He tasted of similar food—­He must have eaten bread and fruit.

“Here are my little rubrics: 

“I imagine myself at Nazareth, in the house of the Holy Family.  If, for instance, I am served with salad, cold fish, wine, or anything pungent in taste, I offer it to St. Joseph.  To our Blessed Lady I offer hot foods and ripe fruit, and to the Infant Jesus our feast-day fare, especially rice and preserves.  Lastly, when I am served a wretched dinner I say cheerfully:  ’To-day, my little one, it is all for you!’”