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 to find me love my littleness, my poverty:  it is the blind trust which I have in His Mercy. . . .  There is my sole treasure, dearest Godmother, and why should it not be yours?

Are you not ready to suffer all that God wills?  Assuredly; and so if you wish to know joy and to love suffering, you are really seeking your own consolation, because once we love, all suffering disappears.  Verily, if we were to go together to martyrdom, you would gain great merit, and I should have none, unless it pleased Our Lord to change my dispositions.

Dear sister, do you not understand that to love Jesus and to be His Victim of Love, the more weak and wretched we are the better material do we make for this consuming and transfiguring Love? . . .  The simple desire to be a Victim suffices, but we must also consent to ever remain poor and helpless, and here lies the difficulty:  “Where shall we find one that is truly poor in spirit?  We must seek him afar off,” says the author of the Imitation.[7] He does not say that we must search among great souls, but “afar off”—­that is to say,