Sister Catherine lived forty-six years in a large establishment, under the direction of five successive Superiors; she was brought in contact with many companions of different dispositions and different degrees of virtue, consequently the esteem in which she was held varied. If they sometimes gave her to understand that her mind was failing, such things troubled her little, and she always quietly went her way, receiving kindness with grateful simplicity, and ungracious words without flinching.
Faithful to the rule with such uniform exactness, that merit seems to disappear before habit, she never uttered a word against charity. Even when age had given her some privileges over her young companions, rarely did she allow herself to blame or advise them; not, at least, unless they consulted her, then she advised submission. "Everything is in that," said she, "without obedience, Community life is not possible." To the very end of her days, her obedience to her Superior was as perfect as when she left the Seminary.
We must not, however, suppose that Sister Catherine was of a yielding, gentle temperament, to which obedience was natural; no, on the contrary, she had a strong will and quick temper. Thoroughly versed in household labors, she performed her part with great care and assiduity, and directed most scrupulously all that was entrusted to her charge. Her impulsive temper sometimes displayed itself in little sallies of impatience, the firm tone of her words revealing at times what virtue ordinarily caused her to repress. When the first heat was over, she immediately repented of it and humbled herself.
It was often observed that this first movement of surprise, just ready to escape, was held captive, not by human respect, but by a superior will; thus proving that her implicit obedience was due her fidelity to grace.
Understanding her nature, we can now form an idea of what Sister Catherine suffered from the opposition she experienced in realizing her mission; even though these contradictions, especially after the medal had been struck, were more apparent than real on the part of her wise Director, they were none the less painful to her. Might we not say that these trials constituted an interior martyrdom sustained by God and known to him alone?
Sister Catherine, despite her strong constitution, was not exempt from physical suffering, and her companions were sometimes astonished at the simplicity with which she asked for little comforts that a mortified soul would have denied itself. These slight defects formed a veil that obscured the sight of many, and partially concealed the beauties of her soul.
Apparently, the very depths of this simple nature might be read at a glance, and yet she faithfully guarded the secrets of God. In her were seen, by a singular contrast, prudence and discretion allied to perfect simplicity. Thus, whilst some found her a little too thoughtful of her health, others observed that on all great feasts of the Blessed Virgin, particularly that of the Immaculate Conception, she was either sick or suffering acute pain, which trials the humble Sister received as a favor from her celestial Mother.
The Superior of the Hospital d'Enghien relates that, one year, when Sister Catherine had gone with several of her companions to spend the beautiful Feast of December 8th at the Community, on getting into the omnibus that evening she fell and broke her wrist. She said not a word, and no one perceived the accident. Some minutes after, seeing that she held her arm in her handkerchief, Sister Dufès inquired what had happened. "Ah! Sister," she quietly replied, "I am holding my bouquet; every year the Blessed Virgin sends me one of this sort."