"Whatever has come from G.o.d's Hands has always pleased me, even those things which have seemed to me less good and less beautiful than the gifts made to others."

"When staying with my aunt, while I was still a little girl, I was given a certain book to read. In one of the stories great praise was bestowed on a schoolmistress who by her tact escaped from every difficulty without hurting anyone's feelings. Her method of saying to one person: 'You are right,' and to another: 'You are not wrong,' struck me particularly, and as I read I reflected that I would not have acted in that way because we should always tell the truth. And this I always do, though I grant it is much more difficult. It would be far less trouble for us, when told of a worry, to cast the blame on the absent. Less trouble ...

nevertheless I do just the contrary, and if I am disliked it cannot be helped. Let the novices not come to me if they do not want to learn the truth."

"Before a reproof[20] bear fruit it must cost something and be free from the least trace of pa.s.sion. Kindness must not degenerate into weakness. When we have had good reason for finding fault, we must leave it, and not allow ourselves to worry over having given pain. To seek out the delinquent for the purpose of consoling her, is to do more harm than good. Left alone, she is compelled to look beyond creatures, and to turn to G.o.d; she is forced to see her faults and to humble herself. Otherwise she would become accustomed to expect consolation after a merited rebuke, and would act like a spoilt child who stamps and screams, knowing well that by this means its mother will be forced to return and dry its tears."

"'Let the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of G.o.d, be ever in your mouth and in your hearts.'[21] If we find any one particular person disagreeable we should never be disheartened, much less cease our endeavour to reform that soul. We should wield _the sword of the Spirit,_ and so correct her faults. Things should never be allowed to pa.s.s for the sake of our own ease. We must carry on the war even when there is no hope of victory.

Success matters nothing, and we must fight on and never complain: 'I shall gain nothing from that soul, she does not understand, there is nothing for it but to abandon her.' That would be the act of a coward. We must do our duty to the very end."

"Formerly, if any of my friends were in trouble, and I did not succeed in consoling them when they came to see me, I left the parlour quite heart-broken. Soon, however, Our Lord made me understand how incapable I was of bringing comfort to a soul, and from that day I no longer grieved when my visitors went away downcast. I confided to G.o.d the sufferings of those so dear to me, and I felt sure that He heard my prayer. At their next visit I learned that I was not mistaken. After this experience, I no longer worry when I have involuntarily given pain... . I simply ask Our Lord to make amends."

"What do you think of all the graces that have been heaped upon you?"--"I think 'the Spirit of G.o.d breatheth where He will.'"[22]

"Mother," she one day said to the Prioress, "were I unfaithful, were I to commit even the smallest infidelity, I feel that my soul would be plunged into the most terrible anguish, and I should be unable to welcome death."

Mother Prioress evinced surprise at hearing her speak in this strain, and she continued: "I am speaking of infidelity in the matter of pride. If, for example, I were to say: 'I have acquired such or such a virtue and I can practise it'; or again: 'My G.o.d, Thou knowest I love Thee too much to dwell on one single thought against faith,' straightway I should be a.s.sailed by the most dangerous temptations and should certainly yield. To prevent this misfortune I have but to say humbly and from my heart: 'My G.o.d, I beseech Thee not to let me be unfaithful.'

"I understand clearly how St. Peter fell. He placed too much reliance on his own ardent nature, instead of leaning solely on the Divine strength. Had he only said: 'Lord, give me strength to follow Thee unto death!' the grace would not have been refused him.

"How is it, Mother, that Our Lord, knowing what was about to happen, did not say to him: 'Ask of Me the strength to do what is in thy mind?' I think His purpose was to give us a twofold lesson--first: that He taught His Apostles nothing by His presence which He does not teach us through the inspirations of grace; and secondly: that, having made choice of St. Peter to govern the whole Church, wherein there are many sinners, He wished him to test in himself what man can do without G.o.d's help. This is why Jesus said to him before his fall: 'Thou being once converted confirm thy brethren';[23] that is, 'Tell them the story of thy sin--show them by thy own experience, how necessary it is for salvation to rely solely upon Me.'"

I was much afflicted at seeing her ill, and I often exclaimed: "Life is so dreary!" "Life is not dreary"--she would immediately say; "on the contrary, it is most gay. Now if you said: 'Exile is dreary,' I could understand. It is a mistake to call 'life' that which must have an end. Such a word should be only used of the joys of Heaven--joys that are unfading--and in this true meaning life is not sad but gay--most gay... ."

Her own gaiety was a thing of delight. For several days she had been much better, and we were saying to her: "We do not yet know of what disease you will die... ." "But," she answered, "I shall die of death! Did not G.o.d tell Adam of what he would die when He said to him: 'Thou shalt die of death'?"[24]

"Then death will come to fetch you?"--"No, not death, but the Good G.o.d. Death is not, as pictures tell us, a phantom, a horrid spectre. The Catechism says that it is the separation of soul and body--no more! Well, I do not fear a separation which will unite me for ever to G.o.d."

"Will the _Divine Thief,"_ some one asked, "soon come to steal His little bunch of grapes?" "I see Him in the distance, and I take good care not to cry out: 'Stop thief!' Rather, I call to Him: 'This way, this way!'"

Asked under what name we should pray to her in Heaven, she answered humbly: "Call me _Little Therese."_

I was telling her that the most beautiful angels, all robed in white, would bear her soul to Heaven: "Fancies like those," she answered, "do not help me, and my soul can only feed upon truth.

G.o.d and His Angels are pure spirits. No human eye can see them as they really are. That is why I have never asked extraordinary favours. I prefer to await the Eternal Vision."

"To console me at your death I have asked G.o.d to send me a beautiful dream."--"That is a thing I would never do ... ask for consolations. Since you wish to resemble me, you know what are my ideas on this:

'Fear not, O Lord, that I shall waken Thee: I shall await in peace the Heavenly Sh.o.r.e.'

"It is so sweet to serve G.o.d in the dark night and in the midst of trial. After all, we have but this life in which to live by faith."

"I am happy at the thought of going to Heaven, but when I reflect on these words of Our Lord: 'I come quickly, and My reward is with Me, to render to every man according to his works,'[25] I think that He will find my case a puzzle: I have no works... . Well, He will render unto me _according to His own works!"_

"The chief plenary indulgence, which is within reach of everybody, and can be gained without the ordinary conditions, is that of charity--which 'covereth a mult.i.tude of sins.'"[26]

"Surely you will not even pa.s.s through Purgatory. If such a thing should happen, then certainly n.o.body goes straight to Heaven."--"That gives me little thought. I shall be quite content with the Merciful G.o.d's decision. Should I go to Purgatory, I shall--like the three Hebrew children in the furnace--walk amid the flames singing the Canticle of Love."

"In Heaven you will be placed among the Seraphim." "If so, I shall not imitate them. At the sight of G.o.d _they cover themselves with their wings_[27]: I shall take good care not to hide myself with mine."

I showed her a picture which represented Joan of Arc being comforted in prison by her Voices, and she remarked: "I also am comforted by an interior voice. From above, the Saints encourage me, saying: 'So long as thou art a captive in chains, thou canst not fulfill thy mission, but later on, after thy death, will come thy day of triumph.'"

"In Heaven, G.o.d will do all I desire, because on earth I have never done my own will."

"You will look down upon us from Heaven, will you not?"--"No, I will come down."

Some months before the death of Soeur Therese, _The Life of St.

Aloysius_ was being read in the refectory, and one of the Mothers was struck by the mutual and tender affection which existed between the young Saint and the aged Jesuit, Father Corbinelli.

"You are little Aloysius," she said to Therese, "and I am old Father Corbinelli--be mindful of me when you enter Heaven." "Would you like me to fetch you thither soon, dear Mother?" "No, I have not yet suffered enough." "Nay, Mother, I tell you that you have suffered quite enough." To which Mother Hermance replied: "I dare not say Yes... . In so grave a matter I must have the sanction of authority." So the request was made to Mother Prioress, who, without attaching much importance to it, gave her sanction.

Now, on one of the last days of her life, Soeur Therese, scarcely able to speak owing to her great weakness, received through the infirmarian a bouquet of flowers. It had been gathered by Mother Hermance, and was accompanied by an entreaty for one word of affection. The message: "Tell Mother Hermance of the Heart of Jesus that during Ma.s.s this morning I saw Father Corbinelli's grave close to that of little Aloysius."

"That is well," replied the good Mother, greatly touched; "tell Soeur Therese that I have understood... ." And from that moment she felt convinced her death was near. It took place just one year later, and, according to the prediction of the "Little Aloysius,"

the two graves lie side by side.