At the feet of the Holy Father
After the Mass of thanksgiving, following that of the Holy Father, the audience began. Leo XIII was seated on a large armchair; he was dressed simply in a white cassock, with a cape of the same color, and on his head was a little skullcap. Around him were cardinals, archbishops, and bishops, but I saw them only in general, being occupied solely with the Holy Father. We passed in front of him in procession; each pilgrim knelt in turn, kissed the foot and hand of Leo XIII, received his blessing, and two noble guards touched him as a sign to rise (touched the pilgrim, for I explain myself so badly one would think it was the Pope).
Before entering the pontifical apartment, I was really determined to speak, but I felt my courage weaken when I saw Father Révérony standing by the Holy Father’s right side. Almost at the same instant, they told us on the Pope’s behalf that it was forbidden to speak, as this would prolong the audience too much. I turned toward my dear Céline for advice: “Speak!” she said. A moment later I was at the Holy Father’s feet. I kissed his slipper and he presented his hand, but instead of kissing it I joined my own and lifting tear-filled eyes to his face, I cried out: “Most Holy Father, I have a great favor to ask you!”
The Sovereign Pontiff lowered his head toward me in such a way that my face almost touched his, and I saw his eyes, black and deep, fixed on me and they seemed to penetrate to the depths of my soul. “Holy Father, in honor of your Jubilee, permit me to enter Carmel at the age of fifteen!”
Emotion undoubtedly made my voice tremble. He turned to Father Révérony who was staring at me with surprise and displeasure and said: “I don’t understand very well.” Now if God had permitted it, it would have been easy for Father Révérony to obtain what I desired, but it was the cross and not consolation God willed to give me.
“Most Holy Father,” answered the Vicar General, “this is a child who wants to enter Carmel at the age of fifteen, but the Superiors are considering the matter at the moment.” “Well, my child,” the Holy Father replied, looking at me kindly, “do what the Superiors tell you!” Resting my hands on his knees, I made a final effort, saying in a suppliant voice: “Oh! Holy Father, if you say yes, everybody will agree!” He gazed at me steadily, speaking these words and stressing each syllable: “Go… go… You will enter if God wills it! ” (His accent had something about it so penetrating and so convincing, it seems to me I still hear it.)
I was encouraged by the Holy Father’s kindness and wanted to speak again, but the two guards touched me politely to make me rise. As this was not enough they took me, for I stayed there with joined hands resting on the knees of Leo XIII. It was with force they dragged me from his feet. At the moment I was thus lifted, the Holy Father placed his hand on my lips, then raised it to bless me. Then my eyes filled with tears and Father Révérony was able to contemplate at least as many diamonds as he had seen at Bayeux. The two guards literally carried me to the door and there a third one gave me a medal of Leo XIII.
Céline who followed was a witness to the scene that had just taken place; almost as moved as myself, she still had the courage to ask the Holy Father to bless the Carmel. Father Révérony answered in a displeased tone of voice: “The Carmel is already blessed.” The good Holy Father replied gently: “Oh! yes, it is already blessed.” Papa had come to the Holy Father’ feet before us with the men151. Father Révérony had been very charming to him, introducing him as the father of two Carmelites. The Sovereign Pontiff, with a sign of particular good will, placed his hand on my dear King’s venerable head, seeming to mark it with a mysterious seal in the name of Him whose venerable Vicar he is. Ah! now that he is in heaven, this father of four Carmelites, it’s no longer the Pontiff’s hand that rests on his forehead, prophesying martyrdom. It’s the hand of the Spouse of Virgins, the King of Glory, rendering His faithful servant’s head resplendent. Forever this adorable hand will rest on this head which He has glorified!
At the termination of the audience, my dear Father was grieved to find me in tears. He did his best to console me but without success. In the bottom of my heart I felt a great peace, since I had done everything in my power to answer what God was asking of me. This peace, however, was in the depths only; bitterness filled my soul, for Jesus was silent. He seemed to be absent, nothing served to reveal His presence. That day, too, the sun dared not shine and Italy’s beautiful blue skies, covered with dark clouds, never stopped crying with me. Ah! It was all over; my trip no longer held any attraction for me since its purpose had failed. The final words of the Pontiff should have consoled me, for were they not a real prophecy? In spite of all obstacles, what God willed was really accomplished. He did not allow creatures to do what they willed but what He willed.