Twenty years had gone by since
the Blessed Virgin had appeared to her, visiting her as the Angel had
visited the Virgin, choosing her as the Virgin had been chosen, amongst
the most lowly and the most candid, that she might hide within her the
secret of King Jesus. Such was the mystical explanation of that election
of suffering, the /raison d'etre/ of that being who was so harshly
separated from her fellows, weighed down by disease, transformed into the
pitiable field of every human affliction. She was the "garden inclosed"*
that brings such pleasure to the gaze of the Spouse. He had chosen her,
then buried her in the death of her hidden life. And even when the
unhappy creature staggered beneath the weight of her cross, her
companions would say to her: "Do you forget that the Blessed Virgin
promised you that you should be happy, not in this world, but in the
next?" And with renewed strength, and striking her forehead, she would
answer: "Forget? no, no! it is here!" She only recovered temporary energy
by means of this illusion of a paradise of glory, into which she would
enter escorted by seraphims, to be forever and ever happy. The three
personal secrets which the Blessed Virgin had confided to her, to arm her
against evil, must have been promises of beauty, felicity, and
immortality in heaven.
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