I tried to hide my extreme embarrassment and explained things.  He was placed in a difficulty himself, for all the seats were occupied, but one of the party promptly gave me his place and sat by the driver.  I felt like a squirrel caught in a snare.  I was ill at ease in the midst of these great people, and I had to sit face to face with the most formidable of all.  He was exceedingly kind, however, and now and then interrupted his conversation to talk to me about the Carmel and promise that he would do all in his power to realise my desire of entering at fifteen.  This meeting was like balm to my wounds, though it did not prevent me from suffering.  I had now lost all trust in creatures and could only lean on God Himself.

And yet my distress did not hinder me from taking a deep interest in the holy places we visited.  In Florence we saw the shrine of St. Mary Magdalen of Pazzi, in the choir of the Carmelite Church.  All the pilgrims wanted to touch the Saint’s tomb with their Rosaries, but my hand was the only one small enough to pass through the grating.  So I was deputed for this important and lengthy task, and I did it with pride.

It was not the first time I had obtained special favours.  One day, at Santa Croce, in Rome, we venerated the relics of the True Cross, together with two of the Thorns, and one of the Sacred Nails.  I wanted to examine them closely, so I remained behind, and when the monk in charge was going to replace them on the Altar, I asked if I might touch the precious treasures.  He said I might do so, but was doubtful if I should succeed; however, I put my little finger into one of the openings of the reliquary and was able to touch the Sacred Nail once hallowed by the Blood of Our Saviour.  You see I behaved towards Him like a child who thinks it may do as it pleases and looks on its Father’s treasures as its own.

Having passed through Pisa and Genoa we came back to France by one of the loveliest routes.  At times we were close to the sea, and one day during a storm it seemed as though the waves would reach the train.  Farther on we travelled through plains covered with orange trees, olives, and feathery palms, while at night the numerous seaports twinkled with lights, and stars came out in the deep blue sky.  But I watched the fairy picture fade away from my eyes without any regret—­my heart was set elsewhere.

My Father proposed to take me to Jerusalem, but in spite of the natural wish I had to visit the places sanctified by Our Lord’s Footsteps, I was weary of earthly pilgrimages and only longed for the beauties of Heaven.  In order to win these beauties for souls I wanted to become a prisoner as quickly as possible.  I felt that I must suffer and struggle still more before the gates of my blessed prison would open; yet my trust in God did not grow less, and I still hoped to enter at Christmas.