There lived at that time St. James of the Marshes, one of those Apostolic men whom God then raised up, like St. Vincent Ferrer, St. Laurence Giustiniani, St. Bernardine of Siena, and St. John of Capestrano, to be strong barriers against the depravity of the world, the rage of civil discord, the shock of schism, and the advance of rising heresies. After many years passed with great advantage to souls in the missions of Bosnia, Hungary, and the East, he was recalled in that year by Pope Eugene IV., who destined him to preach the Crusade in the province of Aquila, against the infidel Sultan Amurath II., who had already penetrated into the heart of Hungary. On his return he had occasion to go through the territory and towns of Spoleto preaching the Gospel, and he expounded the word of God in Cascia amongst other places. His discourses in Cascia were on the subject of our Lord's Passion, and Rita was present at them. That a nun was present amongst the people to hear the holy preacher will cause no astonishment when we know that although the law of religious enclosure had been established by many Councils and by Pope Boniface VIII., yet its observance was not rigorously enforced until the time of the Council of Trent, and nuns might go out of their convents, especially when there was question of fulfilling religious duties or to hear the word of God preached. Rita, then, with the other nuns of her convent, was present at the sermons, which she listened to with that purity of intention that casts out all curiosity, and has for its only objects the glory of God and the sanctification of the soul. The sanctity and zeal of the preacher, who had long known the secret of touching the most hardened hearts, will enable us to judge of the effects of his preaching. That his subject was our Lord's Passion--the chief object of Rita's meditation, and which excited her to the highest point of the love of God--will be enough to tell us how deeply his discourses must have impressed her. A divine compassion filled her heart, and she only restrained her tears as she listened in order afterwards to pour them copiously forth when she knelt before the crucifix in the old oratory of the convent. One day, as she was there prostrated, wounded in spirit by the vehemence of her great sorrow, with much sobbing she prayed and besought her Love, who had been crowned with thorns, to permit her whilst still in the flesh to taste at least of the bitter chalice of His sufferings. Her heartfelt prayers were heard, and she saw one of the thorns of the crown of the crucifix detach itself, as it were, and strike her on the left side of the forehead with such force that it almost penetrated the bone, causing her exquisite pain. She fainted from the pain, and it seemed to her that only by a miracle could she survive such great suffering. But love was stronger than pain in her, and grace supported the weakness of nature itself. The wound, which by time grew larger,