Frightful little devils

I must stop now. I must speak to you no longer about my infancy but of the little four-year-old Rascal. I remember a dream I must have had around that age and it is still deeply imprinted on my imagination. I dreamed one night I went to take a walk all alone in the garden. When I reached the foot of the steps leading to the garden which have to be climbed to get into it, I stopped, seized with fright. In front of me, near the arbor, there was a barrel of lime and on this barrel two frightful little devils were dancing with surprising agility in spite of the flatirons they had on their feet. All of a sudden they cast fiery glances at me and at the same moment appeared to be more frightened than I was, for they jumped from the barrel and went to hide in the laundry that was just opposite. Seeing they weren’t so brave, I wanted to know what they were going to do, and I went up to the window. The poor little devils were there, running on the tables, not knowing what to do to hide from my gaze. Sometimes they approached the window, looking out to see if I was still there and seeing me there they began running like madmen. This dream, I suppose, has nothing extraordinary about it, and still I believe God permitted me to remember it in order to prove to me that a soul in the state of grace had nothing to fear from demons who are cowards, capable of fleeing before the gaze of a little child!