“Your sick man is half mad, madame!” At this agreeable announcement I hurried away to the poor man, who appeared to be touched by the constancy of my visits. I have been so happy as to get him to make his confession whilst he is still in possession of some gleams of intelligence. The mother is no longer able to leave her bed. The eldest child is sixteen years old; everything depends on her, and the dear soul loves God. My Kate will follow with pleasure the account of my week; besides, I talk confidentially to none but her. My mother never leaves Johanna, Gertrude is given to silence, Berthe is gone out; no news to-day of the exiles.
25th.—Thérèse, Marguerite, and Alix have given themselves up to me for the day. We have seen fifteen chapels; at dawn we accompanied the Blessed Sacrament to the poor family, where the two sick people received the Bread of the valiant and strong, the Bread of angels, the Bread of wayfarers, the Bread of the children of God. At three o’clock, sermon on the visit to the Blessed Sacrament. “To
make this visit is a proof of faith, of understanding, and of affection.” This evening heard the magnificent singing of the Stabat Mater and a sermon on the holy sacrifice of the Mass.
Letters from Brittany—the Saint of the coast: “I believe that my departure is near, and that you must not delay, dear friends, if you would give me the consolation of hearing those whom I love pray by my bedside!” My mother is much impressed. What is to be done? René says it is for Adrien to decide. “I think it is especially Georgina whom our saint asks for.” “It is so,” replied my mother. “René and Georgina shall go on Monday.” As every one approves of this, it will be so, I suppose. Death again!
Marcella writes—kind and pleasing details. And Picciola? O my God! thou who on this day didst give to us the greatest pledge of love, thou who hast loved us even to the end, hear my prayer! What a night is this, and fraught with what memories! At this hour was that discourse uttered at the Last Supper, and the Eucharistic Passover instituted, which will be our strength and consolation even to our last day!
26th.—“Very strange are often the destinies of men and the decrees of God. With some the thread of life snaps, even though it be woven of pure gold and shining silk; with others suffering and sorrow cannot succeed in breaking the dark thread which they pass through their cruel hands.” I read this after having heard the unfortunate wife of my sick man complain that she had been “forgotten by death.”
Twice made the Way of the Cross, was present at the Offices, heard three sermons: this morning on our
Lord’s sufferings; at three o’clock on the Seven Words of Jesus on the Cross; this evening the Passion, our Saviour’s sufferings in his mind, his heart, and his body.
27th.—Meditation on contrition and satisfaction; conference on the love of God. O love! This is the subject above all others which dilates the soul, illuminates and fills it. Who will grant that I may love perfectly?
Marianne mentions a slight improvement in the general state of Picciola, who does not complain, allows herself to be taken care of, and is as much as ever like an angel. I am alone in the preparation of surprises, or, at least, in their purchase. Berthe and Gertrude have worked with me. I am impatient for Monday. Supposing the saint should fly away without waiting for us!