which I had deeply repented, I intended to deprive myself of Holy
Communion. I wrote to her of my resolution, and this was her
reply: "Little flower, most dear to Jesus, by this humiliation
your roots are feeding upon the earth. You must now open wide your
petals, or rather lift high your head, so that the Manna of the
Angels may, like a divine dew, come down to strengthen you and
supply all your wants. Good-night, poor little flower! Ask of
Jesus that all the prayers offered for my cure may serve to
increase the fire which ought to consume me."

* * * * * *

"At the moment of Communion I sometimes liken my soul to that of a
little child of three or four, whose hair has been ruffled and
clothes soiled at play. This is a picture of what befalls me in my
struggling with souls. But Our Blessed Lady comes promptly to the
rescue, takes off _my soiled pinafore,_ and arranges my hair,
adorning it with a pretty ribbon or a simple flower. . . . Then I
am quite nice, and able, without any shame, to seat myself at the
Banquet of Angels."

* * * * * *

In the infirmary we scarcely waited for the end of her
thanksgiving before seeking her advice. At first, this somewhat
distressed her, and she would make gentle reproaches, but soon she
yielded to us, saying: "I must not wish for more rest than Our
Lord. When He withdrew into the desert after preaching, the crowds
would come and intrude upon His solitude. Come, then, to me as
much as you like; I must die sword in hand--'the sword of the