aration
of the soul from God by sin being worse than that from the body of
death. For myself I may say I had a continual dependence on God, in
every state; my soul was ever willing to obey every motion of His
Spirit. I thought there could not be anything in the world which He
could require from me, to which I would not give myself up readily and
with pleasure. I had no interest at all for myself. When God requires
anything from this wretched nothing, I find no resistance left in me to
do His will, how rigorous soever it may appear. If there is a heart in
the world of which Thou art the sole and absolute master, mine seems to
be one of that sort. Thy will, however rigorous, is its life and its
pleasure.

To resume the thread of my story, the Bishop of Grenoble's Almoner
persuaded me to go for some time to Marseilles, to let the storm pass
over. He told me that I would be well received there, it being his
native soil, and that many people of merit were there. I wrote to
Father La Combe for his consent. He readily gave it. I might have gone
to Verceil; for the Bishop of Verceil had written me very obliging
letters, earnestly pressing me to come. But a human respect, and fear
of affording a handle to my enemies, gave me an extreme aversion
thereto.

Beside the above, the Marchioness of Prunai, who, since my departure
from her, had been more enlightened by her own experience, having met
with a part of the things which I thought would befall her, had
conceived for me a very strong friendship and intimate union of spirit,
in such a manner that no two sisters could be more united than we. She
was extremely desirous that I would return to her, as I had formerly
promised her. But I could not resolve upon this, lest it should be
thought that I was gone after Father La Combe. There had been no room
given to anybody to accuse me of any indirect attachment to him; for
when it depended on myself not to continue with him, I did not do it.
The Bishop of Geneva had not failed to write against me to Grenoble, as
he had done to other places. His nephew had gone from house to house to
cry me down. All this was indifferent to me; and I did not cease to do
to his diocese all the good in my power. I even wrote to him in a
respectful manner; but his heart was too much closed to yield to
anything.

Before I left Grenoble, that good girl I have spoken of came to me
weeping, and told me that I was going, and that I hid it from her,
because I