Adieu, my daughter. I am always yours in Our Lord. You know this. May He be blessed! St. Michael's Day.
[A] We read in the inedited "Foundations of the First Monastery of Paris": "In the years 1619 and 1620 God permitted a terrible plague to break out in Paris. Terror drove away not only the court but almost the entire population, who sought safety in flight. So deserted did this great city become that we are told the grass grew in the streets. As might be expected in such circumstances, the alms upon which our newly established Community subsisted entirely ceased, and to add to our misfortunes we were surrounded by infected houses. All day long we could hear the tinkle of the little bell that announced the passing of the death waggon in front of the house."
[B] The autumn has always been the season appointed for the annual Retreats of the Sisters of the Visitation.
[C] The Archbishop of Lyons, Mgr. de Marquemont, although the first to urge that the Visitation should have enclosure and solemn vows, was the last to put in force the Bull erecting it into a Religious Order. He held back in the hope of inducing the house at Lyons to undertake the reciting of the great Canonical Office.
XXXV.
To Sister Marie-Avoye Humbert, at Moulins.
Vive ✠ Jésus!
Paris, 1619.
I want you to know, my dear little daughter, what a great consolation your letter has been to me. You have portrayed your interior state with much simplicity, and believe me, little one, I tenderly love that heart of yours and would willingly undergo much for its perfection. May God hear my prayer, and give you the grace to cut short these perpetual reflections on everything that you do. They dissipate your spirit. May He enable you instead to use all your powers and thoughts in the practice of such virtues as come in your way. How happy would you then be, and I how consoled! Make a fresh start in good earnest, my darling, I beg of you. For faults of inadvertence and suchlike, humble yourself in spirit before God, and after that do not give them another thought. You will do this, will you not, my love? Ah, do! I ask it through the love you bear to your poor mother. For the rest, say out boldly everything in your letters; they always console me. Let nothing worry you. Always yours in sincerity. Pray much for me. May the sweet Jesus accomplish in you His holy will!