Seeing Papa so cheerful, no suspicion of the terrible trials which awaited him crossed my mind; but one day God showed me, in an extraordinary vision, a vivid picture of the trouble to come.  My Father was away on a journey, and could not return as early as usual.  It was about two or three o’clock in the afternoon; the sun was shining brightly, and all the world seemed gay.  I was alone at the window, looking on to the kitchen garden, my mind full of cheerful thoughts, when I saw before me, in front of the wash-house, a man dressed exactly like Papa, of the same height and appearance, but more bent and aged.  I say aged, to describe his general appearance, for I did not see his face as his head was covered with a thick veil.  He advanced slowly, with measured step, along my little garden; at that instant a feeling of supernatural fear seized me, and I called out loudly in a trembling voice:  “Papa, Papa!” The mysterious person seemed not to hear, he continued his walk without even turning, and went towards a clump of firs which grew in the middle of the garden.  I expected to see him reappear at the other side of the big trees, but the prophetic vision had vanished.

It was all over in a moment, but it was a moment which impressed itself so deeply on my memory that even now, after so many years, the remembrance of it is as vivid as the vision itself.

My sisters were all together in an adjoining room.  Hearing me call “Papa!” they were frightened themselves, but Marie, hiding her feelings, ran to me and said:  “Why are you calling Papa, when he is at Alencon?” I told her what I had seen, and to reassure me they said that Nurse must have covered her head with her apron on purpose to frighten me.  Victoire, however, when questioned, declared she had not left the kitchen—­besides, the truth was too deeply impressed on my mind:  I had seen a man, and that man was exactly like my Father.  We all went to look behind the clump of trees, and, finding nothing, my sisters told me to think no more about it.  Ah, that was not in my power!  Often and often my imagination brought before me this mysterious vision, often and often I tried to raise the veil which hid its true meaning, and deep down in my heart I had a conviction that some day it would be fully revealed to me.  And you know all, dear Mother.  You know that it was really my Father whom God showed me, bent by age, and bearing on his venerable face and his white head the symbol of his terrible trial.[4]

As the Adorable Face of Jesus was veiled during His Passion, so it was fitting that the face of His humble servant should be veiled during the days of his humiliation, in order that it might shine with greater brilliancy in Heaven.  How I admire God’s ways!  He showed us this precious cross beforehand, as a father shows his children the glorious future he is preparing for them—­a future which will bring them an inheritance of priceless treasures.

But a thought comes into my mind:  “Why did God give this light to a child who, if she had understood it, would have died of grief?” “Why?” Here is one of those incomprehensible mysteries which we shall only understand in Heaven, where they will be the subject of our eternal admiration.  My God, how good Thou art!  How well dost Thou suit the trial to our strength!