The month of May

I loved God very much and offered my heart to Him very often, making use of the little formula Mother had taught me. However, one evening in the beautiful month of May I committed a fault that merits the penalty of being confessed. It gave me good reason to humble myself and I believe I had perfect contrition for it.

Since I was too little to attend May devotions, I remained at home with Victoire,³⁶ carrying out my devotions with her before my little May altar. This I had arranged according to my taste; everything was so small, the candlestick, the flower pots, etc. Two tapers lit it up perfectly. Sometimes Victoire would surprise me with a gift of two candle stubs. But this was rare. All was in readiness one evening for us to commence our prayers, so I said to her: “Victoire, will you begin the Memorare? I’m going to light the tapers.” She pretended to begin but said nothing and looked at me, laughing. I watched my precious tapers burning away rapidly and begged her to recite the prayer, but she still said nothing. Then rising from my knees, I shouted at her and told her she was very wicked. Laying aside my customary gentleness, I stamped my foot with all my might. Poor Victoire stopped laughing. She looked at me in amazement and then showed me the two candle stubs she’d brought along. After shedding tears of anger, I poured out tears of repentance, having a firm purpose of not doing it again!

Another time there was another incident with Victoire, but this time I had no repentance because I had kept calm. I wanted an inkstand that was on the shelf of the fireplace in the kitchen; being too little to take it down, I very nicely asked Victoire to give it to me, but she refused, telling me to get up on a chair. I took a chair without saying a word but thinking she wasn’t too nice; wanting to make her feel it, I searched out in my little head what offended me the most. She often called me “a little brat” when she was annoyed at me and this humbled me very much. So before jumping off my chair, I turned around with dignity and said: “Victoire, you are a brat!” Then I made my escape, leaving her to meditate on the profound statement I had just made. The result wasn’t long in coming, for soon I heard her shouting: “M’amz’elle Marie, Thérèse just called me a brat!” Marie came and made me ask pardon, and I did so without having contrition. I thought that if Victoire didn’t want to stretch her big arm to do me a little service, she merited the title brat.

And still Victoire was very fond of me and I was also fond of her. One day, she drew me out of a great peril into which I had tumbled through my own fault. She was ironing the clothes and she had at her side a bucket filled with water. I was watching her and at the same time swinging on a chair, which was a habit of mine. All of a sudden, the chair slipped from under me and I fell, not on the floor, but into the bucket! My feet met my head and I filled the bucket like a little chick fills an eggshell! Poor Victoire gaped at me with great surprise, having never seen anything like it in her life. I wanted to extricate myself from my bucket as quickly as possible, but impossible! My prison fit me so perfectly I couldn’t make a single move. With a little trouble she saved me from my great peril but not my dress and all the rest of my clothes which she had to change. I was soaked to the skin!

Another time I fell into the fireplace where fortunately there was no fire lighted at the time. Victoire had to draw me out and shake off the ashes that covered me completely. These incidents happened to me on a Wednesday when you were at singing practice with Marie. It was on Wednesday also that Father Ducellier³⁷ came to pay a visit. Victoire told him nobody was home except Thérèse, and so he came out into the kitchen to see me and look over my homework; I was very proud to receive my confessor, for I had made my first confession to him a short time before. What a sweet memory for me!