Our Lord made me understand that the only true glory is that which lasts for ever; and that to attain it there is no necessity to do brilliant deeds, but rather to hide from the eyes of others, and even from oneself, so that “the left hand knows not what the right hand does."[1] Then, as I reflected that I was born for great things, and sought the means to attain them, it was made known to me interiorly that my personal glory would never reveal itself before the eyes of men, but that it would consist in becoming a Saint.

This aspiration may very well appear rash, seeing how imperfect I was, and am, even now, after so many years of religious life; yet I still feel the same daring confidence that one day I shall become a great Saint.  I am not trusting in my own merits, for I have none; but I trust in Him Who is Virtue and Holiness itself.  It is He alone Who, pleased with my feeble efforts, will raise me to Himself, and, by clothing me with His merits, make me a Saint.  At that time I did not realise that to become one it is necessary to suffer a great deal; but God soon disclosed this secret to me by means of the trials I have related.

I must now continue my story where I left off.  Three months after my cure Papa took me away for a change.  It was a very pleasant time, and I began to see something of the world.  All around me was joy and gladness; I was petted, made much of, admired—­in fact, for a whole fortnight my path was strewn with flowers.  The Wise Man is right when he says:  “The bewitching of vanity overturneth the innocent mind."[2] At ten years of age the heart is easily fascinated, and I confess that in my case this kind of life had its charms.  Alas! the world knows well how to combine its pleasures with the service of God.  How little it thinks of death!  And yet death has come to many people I knew then, young, rich, and happy.  I recall to mind the delightful places where they lived, and ask myself where they are now, and what profit they derive to-day from the beautiful houses and grounds where I saw them enjoying all the good things of this life, and I reflect that “All is vanity besides loving God and serving Him alone."[3]

Perhaps Our Lord wished me to know something of the world before He paid His first visit to my soul, so that I might choose more deliberately the way in which I was to follow Him.

I shall always remember my First Communion Day as one of unclouded happiness.  It seems to me that I could not have been better prepared.  Do you remember, dear Mother, the charming little book you gave me three months before the great day?  I found in it a helpful method which prepared me gradually and thoroughly.  It is true I had been thinking about my First Communion for a long time, but, as your precious manuscript told me, I must stir up in my heart fresh transports of love and fill it anew with flowers.  So, each day I made a number of little sacrifices and acts of love, which were to be changed into so many flowers:  now violets, another time roses, then cornflowers, daisies, or forget-me-nots—­in a word, all nature’s blossoms were to form in me a cradle for the Holy Child.