I silenced nearly every appeal within me. I let regard for others govern and restrain me. I still feel how the imperious look of an unforgettable passerby once tore me; the rude superior deprecation in that look was like a cry rising above the night. Several indifferent persons were about me, my spirit fixed upon them. Perhaps it was the last of my life which a stranger mercilessly carried off in the depths of his being. I let him pass.
I believed myself beautiful. Beauty is a promise which no woman has ever kept. I have seen my features in the glass, but I have not looked for the mission to which I was appointed. What human being ever perceives that he wears a distinctive badge?
The wind redoubles in strength and howls in the face of the sky. The rain-spout near the window is choking, the drops rap-tap-tap on the pane: "What have you done? What have you done?"
Lord, I am looking myself in the face. While waiting for the light to appear and the clouds to scatter, for the damp air to shine between the drops of sunlight, for the good genius who must teach us to grow old, for the inaccessible perfection for which I was built, I look and look at myself....
I went to the window to watch the storm and smoothe my hair. Leaning toward the mirror it was God I found.
God is there, I see Him approaching when I approach and smiling when I smile, God who carries me and whom I carry, God palpitating with faith, God who lowers His head....
I believe in myself.