I am an execrable wretch.
June 11th.
Everything may still be remedied.
Pepita will, in time, forget her love and the weakness of which we were guilty.
Since that night I have not returned to her house. Antoñona has not made her appearance in ours.
By dint of entreaties I have obtained a formal promise from my father that we shall leave here on the 25th, the day after St. John's day, which is here celebrated with splendid feasts, and on the eve of which there is a famous vigil.
Absent from Pepita, I begin to recover my serenity, and to think that this first appearance of love was a trial of my virtue.
All these nights I have prayed, I have watched, I have performed many works of penance.
The persistence of my prayers, the deep contrition of my soul, have found favor with the Lord, who has manifested to me his great mercy.
The Lord, in the words of the prophet, has sent fire to the stronghold of my spirit, he has illuminated my understanding, he has kindled my resolution, and he has given me instruction. The working of the Divine love which animates the Supreme Will has had power, at times, without my deserving it, to lead me to that condition of prayerful contemplation in which all the faculties of the soul are in repose. I have cast out from the lower faculties of my soul every species of image—even her image; and I am persuaded, if vanity does not deceive me, that, mind and heart in reconciliation, I have known and enjoyed the Supreme Good that dwells within the depths of the soul.