did not see the Father
but at the confessional, and not in conference; that they were so much
edified by me, as to think themselves happy in having me, and to esteem
it a greater favor from God." What they said out of pure charity was
not pleasing to the Bishop, who, seeing they loved me in this house,
said, that I won over everybody to myself and that he wished I were out
of the diocese. Though I knew all this, and these good sisters were
troubled at it, I could have no trouble by reason of the calm
establishment which I was in. The will of God rendering everything
equal to me. The creatures, however unreasonable or passionate they
appear, not being regarded in themselves but in God; an habitual faith
causes everything to be seen in God without distinction. Thus, when I
see poor souls so ruffled for discourses in the air, so uneasy for
explanations, I pity them. They have reasons, I know, which self-love
causes to appear very just.

To relieve myself a little from the fatigue of continual conversation,
I desired Father La Combe to allow me a retreat. It was then that I let
myself be consumed by love all the day long. Also I perceived the
quality of a spiritual mother; for the Lord gave me what I cannot
express for the perfection of souls. This I could not hide from Father
La Combe. It seemed to me as if I entered into the inmost recesses of
his heart. Our Lord showed me he was His servant, chosen among a
thousand, singularly to honor Him; but that He would lead him through
total death, and the entire destruction of the old man. He would have
me contribute thereto and be instrumental to cause him to walk in the
way in which He had led me first; in order that I might be in a
condition to direct others, to tell them the way through which I have
passed. The Lord would have us to be conformed, and to become both one
in Him; though my soul was more advanced now, yet he should one day
pass beyond it, with a bold and rapid flight. God knows with what joy I
would see my spiritual children surpass their mother.

In this retreat I felt a strong propensity to write, but resisted it
till I fell sick. I had nothing to write about, not one idea to begin
with. It was a divine impulse, with such a fulness of grace as was hard
to contain. I opened this disposition of mine to Father La Combe. He
answered that he had a strong impulse to command me to write, but had
not dared to do it yet, on account of my weakness. I told him, that
"wea