on my knees for so long
that Sister Marie-Aimee scolded me. Nobody noticed the little signs
which we made to one another, and the nine days of prayer passed off
without any one knowing anything about them.

Colette was very pale when she came to mass. Her cheeks were thinner
than ever, and she stood with her eyes cast down. Her eyelids were
deep violet. I thought to myself that the end of her martyrdom had
come, and I was filled with a deep joy. Quite close to me, the picture
of the Virgin in a flowing white robe smiled as it looked at me, and in
an outburst of all my faith my thoughts cried out, "Oh, Mirror of
Justice, make Colette whole!" My temples were stretched tightly. I
was straining every nerve to keep my thoughts from wandering, and I
went on saying, "Oh, Mirror of Justice, make Colette whole!" Colette
went up to the communion table. Her stick made a little clickety noise
on the flagstones. When she was on her knees the girl who had gone up
to the table with her came back to us with the stick. She knew that it
would be of no further use.

Colette tried to get up, and fell back again on to her knees. Her hand
reached out to take her stick, and when she didn't find it by her side,
she tried again to raise herself without it. She clung to the Holy
Table and caught hold of the arm of one of the Sisters, who was taking
communion with her. Then her shoulders rocked and she fell over,
pulling the Sister down with her. Two of us rushed forward and dragged
poor Colette to her bench. But I was still hoping against hope, and
until mass was over I was hoping to hear the Te Deum. As soon as I
could, I went back to Colette. The big girls were round her trying to
console her, and advising her to give herself to God for ever. She was
crying gently, not sobbing. Her head was bent a little forward, and
her tears fell on her hands, which were crossed one over the other. I
kneeled down in front of her, and when she looked at me, I said:

"Perhaps you can get married even though you are a cripple." Colette's
story was soon known to everybody. Everybody felt so sad about it that
we stopped playing noisy games. Ismerie thought she was telling me a
tremendous piece of news when she told me all about it. Sophie told me
that we must submit to the will of Our Lady, because She knew what was
necessary for Colette's happiness better than we did.

I should have liked to have known whether Sister Mari