Soon after my First Communion I went into retreat again, before being confirmed.  I prepared myself with the greatest care for the coming of the Holy Ghost; I could not understand anyone not doing so before receiving this Sacrament of Love.  As the ceremony could not take place on the day fixed, I had the consolation of remaining somewhat longer in retreat.  How happy I felt!  Like the Apostles, I looked with joy for the promised Comforter, gladdened by the thought that I should soon be a perfect Christan, and have the holy Cross, the symbol of this wondrous Sacrament, traced upon my forehead for eternity.  I did not feel the mighty wind of the first Pentecost, but rather the gentle breeze which the prophet Elias heard on Mount Horeb.  On that day I received the gift of fortitude in suffering—­a gift I needed sorely, for the martyrdom of my soul was soon to begin.

When these delightful feasts, which can never be forgotten, were over, I had to resume my life as a day scholar, at the Abbey.  I made good progress with my lessons, and remembered easily the sense of what I read, but I had the greatest difficulty in learning by heart; only at catechism were my efforts crowned with success.  The Chaplain called me his little “Doctor of Theology,"[7] no doubt because of my name, Therese.

During recreation I often gave myself up to serious thoughts, while from a distance I watched my companions at play.  This was my favourite occupation, but I had another which gave me real pleasure.  I would search carefully for any poor little birds that had fallen dead under the big trees, and I then buried them with great ceremony, all in the same cemetery, in a special grass plot.  Sometimes I told stories to my companions, and often even the big girls came to listen; but soon our mistress, very rightly, brought my career as an orator to an end, saying she wanted us to exercise our bodies and not our brains.  At this time I chose as friends two little girls of my own age; but how shallow are the hearts of creatures!  One of them had to stay at home for some months; while she was away I thought about her very often, and on her return I showed how pleased I was.  However, all I got was a glance of indifference—­my friendship was not appreciated.  I felt this very keenly, and I no longer sought an affection which had proved so inconstant.  Nevertheless I still love my little school friend, and continue to pray for her, for God has given me a faithful heart, and when once I love, I love for ever.

Observing that some of the girls were very devoted to one or other of the mistresses, I tried to imitate them, but I never succeeded in winning special favour.  O happy failure, from how many evils have you saved me!  I am most thankful to Our Lord that He let me find only bitterness in earthly friendships.  With a heart like mine, I should have been taken captive and had my wings clipped, and how then should I have been able to “fly away and be at rest"?[8]