Read the Beatitudes, by Mgr. Landriot. It is very fine, this eloquent commentary on the magnificent words of our Saviour. The beati qui lugent too often finds its application.
The last four days I have been to Hélène’s paralytic. The poor woman was quite confused at my eagerness, while I was so happy to wait upon her that I would willingly have done so on my knees. My charities will not be rewarded in heaven; I have too much sense of pleasure in them, too much enjoyment. God is present to me in the poor. “May God bless you, my ladies!” This is the most delightful adieu I have ever heard.
René, to whom I have given a detailed
account of my morning, says that he should be curious to see me doing the house-work for my good old woman. I have probably done it very badly, but then I shall soon become used to it. Benoni keeps his sweetest smiles for me, and I am teaching him your name. A thought of Mgr. Dupanloup often comes into my mind: “The borders of the Ganges, which send us Oriental pearls, have not given us simplicity; I have found it in the heart of a child.” Picciola is rich in it—in this sweet and charming simplicity which is the sister of innocence. “Would you not consent to give her to me?” I said yesterday to Berthe. This morning the pretty dove came leaping into my room, exclaiming, “Now I have two mammas! Good-morning, mamma!”
Adieu for the present, my sweet one.
20.
Dearest, we set off to-morrow. My mother declares that she will not be completely cured except at La Salette. Hélène is enthusiastic about it. What a festival! What joy!
I am pressed for time. We are packing up. All is commotion; every one coming and going; everybody calling everybody else. Picciola runs from room to room with outstretched hands, offering her services. I send you a kiss. Unite yourself to us. René will write to you when we are in the train; an impossibility to me. I shall pray for Ireland.
La Salette, June 20.
Why cannot we die here, dear Kate? It is truly the vestibule of heaven. I have no need to describe to you the landscape, the chapel, my emotion on finding myself