My dear Céline

And now I have to speak about my dear Céline, the little companion of my childhood, but the memories here are so numerous I don’t know which to choose. I’m going to extract a few passages from letters Mama wrote to you at the Visitation but won’t copy them out in full as it would take too long. July 1, 1873, the year of my birth, she said:

“The nurse brought little Thérèse here on Thursday.¹³ The little one did nothing but laugh. Céline pleased her especially and she went into peals of laughter with her. One would say she already wants to play, so that will come soon. She holds herself up on her two little legs straight as a post. I believe she will walk very early and she will be very good. She appears very intelligent and has the face of a little cherub.”

I showed my affection for dear little Céline especially after I came home from the nurse’s place. We understood each other every well, only I was much more lively and less naive than she; although I was three and a half years younger, it seemed to me we were the same age.

Here is a passage from one of Mama’s letters showing how good Céline was and how I was just the opposite. “My little Céline is drawn to the practice of virtue; it’s part of her nature; she is candid and has a horror of evil. As for the little imp, one doesn’t know how things will go, she is so small, so thoughtless! Her intelligence is superior to Céline’s, but she’s less gentle and has a stubborn streak in her that is almost invincible; when she say ‘no’ nothing can make her give in, and one could put her in the cellar a whole day and she’d sleep there rather than say ‘yes.’

“But still she has a heart of gold; she is very lovable and frank; it’s curious to see her running after me making her confessions; ‘Mama, I pushed Céline once, I hit her once, but I won’t do it again.’ (It’s like this for everything she does.) Thursday evening we took a walk in the direction of the train station, and she wanted absolutely to go into the waiting room to go and see Pauline; she was running on ahead with a joy that was pleasant to see, but when she saw we had to return without getting on the train to go to visit Pauline, she cried all the way home.”¹⁴

This last part of the letter reminds me of the happiness I experienced when seeing you return from the Visitation; you, dear Mother, took me in your arms and Marie took Céline; then I gave you a thousand hugs and I leaned over in order to admire you long braids. Then you gave me a piece of chocolate that you had kept for three months. Can you imagine what a relic that was for me!