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[66r°] friendly toward me, however, and even interrupted his conversation with the others from time to time to speak to me about Carmel. Before we reached the station, all the great personages took their huge [5] purses out to give some money to the driver (already paid). I did the same thing, taking out my very little purse. Father Révérony did not agree with what I drew out from it, some pretty little coins, and instead he offered a large coin for both of us.

I was by his side, on another occasion, on a bus, and he was even more friendly, promising to do all he could to have me enter Carmel. While placing a little balm on my wounds, these [10] little encounters did not prevent my return from being much less agreeable than my going, for I no longer had the hope “of the Holy Father.” I found no help at all on earth, which appeared to me as an arid desert without water. All my hope was in God alone. I had just had the experience that it was much better to have recourse to Him than to his saints.

[15] The sadness of my soul did not hinder me from taking a lively interest in the holy places we were visiting. At Florence, I was happy to contemplate St. Magdalene of Pazzi in the Carmelite choir. They opened the big grille for us. As we did not know we would enjoy this privilege and many wanted to touch their rosaries to the Saint’s tomb, I was the [20] only one who could put my hand through the grating which separated us from the tomb. And so everybody was carrying rosaries to me and I was very proud of my office. I always had to find a way of touching everything. At the Holy Cross Church in Rome, we were able to venerate several pieces of the true Cross, two thorns, and one of the sacred nails. The nail was enclosed in a magnificent golden reliquary which did not have a glass covering. I found a way of placing my little finger in


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