In the afternoon, when Vespers were over, I found the opportunity I wanted.  My Father was sitting in the garden, his hands clasped, admiring the wonders of nature.  The rays of the setting sun gilded the tops of the tall trees, and the birds chanted their evening prayer.

His beautiful face wore a heavenly expression—­I could feel that his soul was full of peace.  Without a word, I sat down by his side, my eyes already wet with tears.  He looked at me with indescribable tenderness, and, pressing me to his heart, said:  “What is it, little Queen?  Tell me everything.”  Then, in order to hide his own emotion, he rose and walked slowly up and down, still holding me close to him.

Through my tears I spoke of the Carmel and of my great wish to enter soon.  He, too, wept, but did not say a word to turn me from my vocation; he only told me that I was very young to make such a grave decision, and as I insisted, and fully explained my reasons, my noble and generous Father was soon convinced.  We walked about for a long time; my heart was lightened, and Papa no longer shed tears.  He spoke to me as Saints speak, and showed me some flowers growing in the low stone wall.  Picking one of them, he gave it to me, and explained the loving care with which God had made it spring up and grow till now.

I fancied myself listening to my own story, so close was the resemblance between the little flower and little Therese.  I received this floweret as a relic, and noticed that in gathering it my Father had pulled it up by the roots without breaking them; it seemed destined to live on, but in other and more fertile soil.  Papa had just done the same for me.  He allowed me to leave the sweet valley, where I had passed the first years of my life, for the mountain of Carmel.  I fastened my little white flower to a picture of Our Lady of Victories—­ the Blessed Virgin smiles on it, and the Infant Jesus seems to hold it in His Hand.  It is there still, but the stalk is broken close to the root.  God doubtless wishes me to understand that He will soon break all the earthly ties of His Little Flower and will not leave her to wither on this earth.

Having obtained my Father’s consent, I thought I could now fly to the Carmel without hindrance.  Far from it!  When I told my uncle of my project, he declared that to enter such a severe Order at the age of fifteen seemed to him against all common sense, and that it would be doing a wrong to religion to let a child embrace such a life.  He added that he should oppose it in every way possible, and that nothing short of a miracle would make him change his mind.

I could see that all arguments were useless, so I left him, my heart weighed down by profound sadness.  My only consolation was prayer.  I entreated Our Lord to work this miracle for me because thus only could I respond to His appeal.  Some time went by, and my uncle did not seem even to remember our conversation, though I learnt later that it had been constantly in his thoughts.