On Sunday morning, November 20, we went to the Vatican, and were taken to the Pope’s private chapel.  At eight o’clock we assisted at his Mass, during which his fervent piety, worthy of the Vicar of Christ, gave evidence that he was in truth the “Holy Father.”

The Gospel for that day contained these touching words:  “Fear not, little flock, for it hath pleased your Father to give you a Kingdom."[12] My heart was filled with perfect confidence.  No, I would not fear, I would trust that the Kingdom of the Carmel would soon be mine.  I did not think of those other words of Our Lord:  “I dispose to you, as my Father hath disposed to Me, a Kingdom."[13] That is to say, I will give you crosses and trials, and thus will you become worthy to possess My Kingdom. If you desire to sit on His right hand you must drink the chalice which He has drunk Himself.[14] “Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and so to enter into His glory?"[15]

A Mass of thanksgiving followed, and then the audience began.  Leo XIII, whose cassock and cape were of white, was seated on a raised chair, and round him were grouped various dignitaries of the church.  According to custom each visitor knelt in turn and kissed, first the foot and next the hand of the venerable Pontiff, and finally received his blessing; then two of the Noble Guard signed to the pilgrim that he must rise and pass on to the adjoining room to make way for those who followed.

No one uttered a word, but I was firmly determined to speak, when suddenly the Vicar-General of Bayeux, Father Reverony, who was standing at the Pope’s right hand, told us in a loud voice that he absolutely forbade anyone to address the Holy Father.  My heart beat fast.  I turned to Celine, mutely inquiring what I should do.  “Speak!” she said.

The next moment I found myself on my knees before the Holy Father.  I kissed his foot and he held out his hand; then raising my eyes, which were filled with tears, I said entreatingly:  “Holy Father, I have a great favour to ask you.”  At once he bent towards me till his face almost touched mine, and his piercing black eyes seemed to read my very soul.  “Holy Father,” I repeated, “in honour of your jubilee, will you allow me to enter the Carmel when I am fifteen?”

The Vicar-General, surprised and displeased, said quickly:  “Holy Father, this is a child who desires to become a Carmelite, but the Superiors of the Carmel are looking into the matter.”  “Well, my child,” said His Holiness, “do whatever the Superiors decide.”  Clasping my hands and resting them on his knee, I made a final effort:  “Holy Father, if only you say ‘yes,’ everyone else would agree.”

He looked at me fixedly and said clearly and emphatically:  “Well, well!  You will enter if it is God’s Will.”  I was going to speak again, when the Noble Guards motioned to me.  As I paid little attention they came forward, the Vicar-General with them, for I was still kneeling before the Pope with my hands resting on his knee.  Just as I was forced to rise, the dear Holy Father gently placed his hand on my lips, then lifted it to bless me, letting his eyes follow me for quite a long time.