We were so bent on always doing the same thing that sometimes we carried it too far.  Endeavouring one evening, on our way home from school, to imitate the modest demeanour of the hermits, I said to Marie:  “Lead me, I am going to shut my eyes.”  “So am I,” she answered.  Being on the pavement we were in no fear of vehicles, and for a short while all went well, and we enjoyed walking with our eyes shut; but presently we both fell over some boxes standing at a shop door and knocked them down.  The shopkeeper came out in a rage to replace them, but the would-be blind pair picked themselves up and ran off as fast as they could, with eyes wide open.  Then the hermits had to listen to a well-deserved scolding from Jeanne, the maid, who seemed as vexed as the shopkeeper.

I have not yet told you how Celine and I altered when we came to Lisieux.  She had now become the little romp, full of mischief, while Therese had turned into a very quiet little girl, far too much inclined to tears.  I needed a champion, and who can say how courageously my dear little sister played that part.  We used to enjoy making each other little presents, for, at that age, the simplicity of our hearts was unspoiled.  Like the spring flowers they unfolded, glad to receive the morning dew, while the same soft breezes swayed their petals.  Yes, our joys were mutual.  I felt this especially on the happy day of Celine’s First Communion; I was only seven years old, and had not yet begun school at the Abbey.  How sweet is the remembrance of her preparation!  Every evening during its last weeks my sisters talked to her of the great event.  I listened, eager to prepare myself too, and my heart swelled with grief when I was told to go away because I was still too young.  I thought that four years was not too long to spend in making ready to receive Our dear Lord.  One evening I heard someone say to my happy little sister:  “From the time of your First Communion you must begin an entirely new life.”  At once I made a resolution not to wait till the time of my First Communion, but to begin with Celine.  During her retreat she remained as a boarder at the Abbey, and it seemed to me she was away a long time; but at last the happy day came.  What a delightful impression it has left on my mind—­it was like a foretaste of my own First Communion!  How many graces I received that day!  I look on it as one of the most beautiful of my life.

I have gone back a little in order to recall these happy memories; but now I must tell you of the mournful parting which crushed my heart when Our Lord took from me my little Mother whom I loved so dearly.  I told her once that I would like to go away with her to a far-off desert; she replied that it was her wish too, but that she was waiting till I was big enough to set out.  This impossible promise I took in earnest, and what was my grief when I heard Pauline talking to Marie about soon entering the Carmel!  I did not know the Carmel; but I knew that she was leaving me to enter a convent, and that she would not wait for me.