Thus Eustochia entered upon her twenty-third year, and the time was come (in accordance with the custom in convents of those days) for her to make her final vows and to take the veil. This she did at the hands of the chaplain—being confined by her extreme, increasing weakness to her bed—on September 14, 1467, the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. At this time the community, now so altered in its sentiments towards Eustochia, was in fear of soon losing her from its midst, so exhausted and emaciated was she in consequence of her persecution by the spirit that possessed her; but, to the general astonishment, she proceeded to recover rapidly and, a week after her reception of the veil almost “in articulo mortis,” Eustochia was once more well enough to go to church and there to repeat her vows in public. From being despised and shunned by all as a sorceress and supposed murderess, an object of horror and suspicion not only to the inmates of the convent but to the townspeople of Padua as well, Eustochia was now the glory of her convent and the model of her sisters in it; the whole town joined them in extolling her constancy in affliction and in doing honour to her sanctity. So much for the judgments of this world! As for Eustochia herself, she remained the same through good and evil report. From her cell where she passed her time there floated out now and again a burst of golden song in praise of God, so tender and sweet as to ravish the hearts of those that heard her; on these occasions the other nuns thought of her rather as an angel than a human being. It was during this last phase of her life that there was celebrated at Venice the marriage of Caterina Cornaro with James, the King of Cyprus. The report of the splendours in connection with this wedding was brought to Padua, where for many days there was talk of little else. But “I would not exchange my pains and dolours against all the pomp of them,” remarked Eustochia quietly. To such a point of virtue had she attained that she was only afraid lest Heaven should order the Devil to leave her in peace—and so she might be in danger of losing her humility. At this time she ate only once a day, and on two days of each week abstained altogether from food of any kind. Towards the end the Demon, despairing almost of her, turned his activities to Father Salicario, whom he contrived to inspire with the strongest personal dislike for Eustochia. This design, however, of separating her from the kind friend of whose services she felt herself to be hourly more in need, Eustochia defeated by means of commending her need to the Mother of God and of reciting a hundred times the “Ave Maria,” the result of which was always to bring the chaplain to her. As Father Salicario afterward testified to many, he felt himself compelled by an irresistible force to go to her at such times, his own disinclination notwithstanding.