The 12th of the same month, before the dawn of day, Juan Diego set out for the Confessor, but on approaching the mountain near the place where he had seen and spoken to the Most Holy Virgin, foreseeing that she might blame him for his want of care in not having returned, and that she might detain him to carry the signs to the bishop, and considering moreover that the message he bore did not admit of delay, he pursued another path lower down the mountain, towards the eastern part of the hill, imagining that there he would not meet the Virgin. But this did not turn out as he supposed, for passing the spot whence a fountain was flowing, on turning to the brow of the hill, he saw the Holy Mother descending from the summit to meet him in the path! The Indian, surprised by the saintly apparition, was greatly alarmed; but the Holy Virgin, with an affable countenance, said to him: 'Whither goest thou, my son? What road is this thou hast taken?' Juan Diego was sadly confused, frightened, and abashed; but the amenity with which Our Lady met him renewed his courage; and prostrating himself at her feet, he said: 'Do not be offended, Beloved Virgin, at what I am about to say to you.' And, after saluting her _to ascertain the state of her health_, he began to exculpate himself by briefly narrating the unfortunate situation of his uncle, begging her to have a little forbearance with him, and that he would return some other day to obey her commands. The Holy Mary heard him with incomparable benignity, and replied, 'Hear, my son, what I say. Do not allow yourself to be disturbed or afflicted by any thing; neither fear infirmity, affliction, nor grief. Am not I, your mother, here? Are you not under my shield and protection? Do you need more? Give yourself neither trouble nor concern on account of the illness of your uncle, who will not die of this present malady; and, moreover, rest satisfied that even at this very instant he is perfectly cured.' The Indian, consoled and satisfied by the Virgin's assurance, was filled with divine confidence, and without caring for any thing else, he asked for the sign he was to take to the bishop. The Virgin told him to ascend the hill to the spot where she had previously conversed with him, and cutting the flowers he would find growing there, to collect them in his _tilma_ or blanket and bring them to her. The Indian obeyed unhesitatingly, although he knew that these rude wastes produced nothing but thorns even in the most flourishing springtide.