God favoured us, for a Priest was on the point of celebrating Mass; we told him of our great wish, and he immediately asked for two hosts, which he placed on the paten.  You may picture, dear Mother, the ecstatic happiness of that Communion; no words can describe it.  What will be our joy when we communicate eternally in the dwelling of the King of Heaven?  It will be undimmed by the grief of parting, and will know no end.  His House will be ours for all eternity, and there will be no need to covet fragments from the walls hallowed by the Divine Presence.  He will not give us His earthly Home—­He only shows it to us to make us love poverty and the hidden life.  What He has in store for us is the Palace of His Glory, where we shall no longer see Him veiled under the form of a child or the appearance of bread, but as He is, in the brightness of His Infinite Beauty.

Now I am going to tell you about Rome—­Rome, where I thought to find comfort and where I found the cross.  It was night when we arrived.  I was asleep, and was awakened by the porters calling:  “Roma!” The pilgrims caught up the cry and repeated:  “Roma, Roma!” Then I knew that it was not a dream, I was really in Rome!

Our first day, and perhaps the most enjoyable, was spent outside the walls.  There, everything retains its stamp of antiquity, whilst in Rome, with its hotels and shops, one might fancy oneself in Paris.  This drive in the Roman Campagna has left a specially delightful impression on my mind.

How shall I describe the feelings which thrilled me when I gazed on the Coliseum?  At last I saw the arena where so many Martyrs had shed their blood for Christ.  My first impulse was to kiss the ground sanctified by their glorious combats.  But what a disappointment!  The soil has been raised, and the real arena is now buried at the depth of about twenty-six feet.

As the result of excavations the centre is nothing but a mass of rubbish, and an insurmountable barrier guards the entrance; in any case no one dare penetrate into the midst of these dangerous ruins.  But was it possible to be in Rome and not go down to the real Coliseum?  No, indeed!  And I no longer listened to the guide’s explanations:  one thought only filled my mind—­I must reach the arena.

We are told in the Gospel that St. Mary Magdalen remained close to the Sepulchre and stooped down constantly to look in; she was rewarded by seeing two Angels.  So, like her, I kept stooping down and I saw, not two Angels, but what I was in search of.  I uttered a cry of joy and called out to my sister:  “Come, follow me, we shall be able to get through.”  We hurried on at once, scrambling over the ruins which crumbled under our feet.  Papa, aghast at our boldness, called out to us, but we did not hear.