It is about a month since I received your letter of November 9th in which I read your true goodness and loving care of me in my never-ending trials. However, by the grace of God they are somewhat less acute than when I last wrote. At that time Our Lord had sent me a great sorrow in the death of the virtuous Mother (de Châtel), who is a serious loss to me. It seems as if God wishes to deprive me of all help both of nature and of grace. This our Blessed Father prophecied to me before I was a Religious. With all my heart I adore the most holy will of God, and the only good I desire is its complete fulfilment. May I have the grace never to resist it. If it is perfectly wrought out in me how happy I shall be. Pray for this, dearest Mother, I beg of you. Strange to say, when writing to you I can never altogether keep back my tears, though otherwise I rarely weep, unless perchance when I reflect upon those precious virtues[A] of which I feel deprived, and thoughts against them rise up within me that are like daggers to my heart. Yet I am conscious that these divine treasures exist, but where I know not, and it seems to me that I do at least desire them and would willingly suffer anything in order to have the enjoyment of them. My mind pictures untold delights for souls who possess them: were I to dwell on this thought I should be parched up with sorrow, because I care for nothing in comparison with them. Could I be so fortunate as to die for Holy Church, nay, even for the least article of our Faith, how happy I should be; for, thank God, there is no point that I doubt about, though it seems to me that I am destitute of all faith.