This reminds me that I used to have among my birds a canary which sang beautifully, and also a little linnet taken from the nest, of which I was very fond.  This poor little prisoner, deprived of the teaching it should have received from its parents, and hearing the joyous trills of the canary from morning to night, tried hard to imitate them.  A difficult task indeed for a linnet!  It was delightful to follow the efforts of the poor little thing; his sweet voice found great difficulty in accommodating itself to the vibrant notes of his master, but he succeeded in time, and, to my great surprise, his song became exactly like the song of the canary.

Oh, dear Mother, you know who taught me to sing from the days of my earliest childhood!  You know the voices which drew me on.  And now I trust that one day, in spite of my weakness, I may sing for ever the Canticle of Love, the harmonious notes of which I have often heard sweetly sounding here below.

But where am I?  These thoughts have carried me too far, and I must resume the history of my vocation.

On October 31, 1887, alone with Papa, I started for Bayeux, my heart full of hope, but also excited at the idea of presenting myself at the Bishop’s house.  For the first time in my life, I was going to pay a visit without any of my sisters, and this to a Bishop.  I, who had never yet had to speak except to answer questions addressed to me, would have to explain and enlarge on my reasons for begging to enter the Carmel, and so give proofs of the genuineness of my vocation.

It cost me a great effort to overcome my shyness sufficiently to do this.  But it is true that Love knows no such word as “impossible,” for it deems “all things possible, all things allowed.”  Nothing whatsoever but the love of Jesus could have made me face these difficulties and others which followed, for I had to purchase my happiness by heavy trials.  Now, it is true, I think I bought it very cheaply, and I would willingly bear a thousand times more bitter suffering to gain it, if it were not already mine.

When we reached the Bishop’s house, the floodgates of Heaven seemed open once more.  The Vicar-General, Father Reverony, who had settled the date of our coming, received us very kindly, though he looked a little surprised, and seeing tears in my eyes said:  “Those diamonds must not be shown to His Lordship!” We were led through large reception-rooms which made me feel how small I was, and I wondered what I should dare say.  The Bishop was walking in a corridor with two Priests.  I saw the Vicar-General speak a few words to him, then they came into the room where we were waiting.  There were three large armchairs in front of the fireplace, where a bright fire blazed.