11th.—Was present at the funeral of this saintly friend, whom God had given me through Hélène. Looked through Marcella’s manuscript books, in one of which she wrote a year ago: “Cymodoceus said: ‘When shall I find again my bed of roses, and the light of day, so dear to mortals?’ And all this harmonious page put in his mouth by Chateaubriand. And I, for my part, say: When shall I again find heaven, from whence I feel that I came? When shall I find the happiness of which I dream, and which I know too well there is no possibility of finding here below? When shall I find eternal beauty, eternal light, eternal life? But before that
hour grant, O Lord! that in this world I may find, in the shadow of thy cross, that peace which thou hast promised to men of good-will; grant that, for myself and my child, I may find a little rest after the storm! Give us the heavenly manna; overshadow us with the bright cloud; grant us, above all, to be beloved by thee!”
St. Teresa used to say: “The soul ought to think that there is nothing in the world but God and herself.” René must have meditated on that.
12th.—Alleluia! dear Kate, Alleluia! No more penance, no more of this torturing silence which so resembles death; but now talking to each other without ceasing, songs, letters, walks—and always prayers.
What will you think of my week, carissima? Oh! I could not have borne it longer; I found René too holy for my unworthiness. Not a word, not a look. It was like the visible presence of my guardian angel. How delightful it is to hear his voice again!
Went to the Mass for the general communion of the men; no spectacle on earth can be more admirable or more touching. This scene was worth far more than a sermon—this multitude of men, so perfectly attentive and earnest, singing heartily the sweet hymns they all had sung on the day of their First Communion! And what joy to see in this Christian assembly those to whom I am bound by affection, and to feel myself united in the grand fraternity of the faith to all these happy guests at the Lord’s table!
The benediction was all that can be imagined of religious and magnificent. What singing, what alleluias, making one think of those of the angels! Why do such days
ever end? O risen Saviour! grant that we may rise with thee.
Benoni was out of himself with joy. The meditative Anna jumped about in her delight. The festivity was perfect, and, to crown it, news arrived which I will send you as my adieu. Margaret is at the summit of happiness, the
Doux berceau qu’une main jalouse