Our retirement is over, Easter confession is made, and I feel so free in my mind and so quiet in my heart! I had an excellent confessor, Father Bodue; he is all the fashion, as he is French, but even in spite of fashion I would always choose him for my director. He is a saint, and he is so wise! We had many and long conversations with him. He knew so well how to speak to my heart and make it humble and full of contrition, he was so convincing when speaking of the voidness of the things of the world and the dangers of it, that really there were moments when I wanted to leave everything and become a sister of charity in his hospital. I was just pacing my little cell thinking earnestly about it, when my maid entered and whispered that she saw one of the duke's hunters passing near the convent. My devout thoughts were thus scattered and I could not grasp them again. Still, Father Bodue told me also that one can be saved as well in the world when living virtuously, and that such a life is still more meritorious, as it is more difficult. Why, then, should I shrink from it? I really regret that this week is over, although we lived in perfect seclusion. To-day we shall see everybody, as we are going to the Castle for the ceremonies of Holy Thursday. _Friday_, April 10. Easter is over. I cannot say that those days were unpleasant, but the quietude of thought and heart of one week ago, they are mine no more. Moreover, my conscience has more than one thing to reproach me for, so soon after my most earnest resolves! For instance, that as early as Holy Thursday I was guilty of a dreadful piece of vanity! Was such a thing ever heard of? It occurred thus: when I was to put on my mourning-dress, as is the custom in holy week, the princess entered my room followed by two maids carrying a magnificent gown of white satin with a long transparent veil, a wreath of white roses for my hair, and a bouquet for my corsage. I was amazed, but the princess explained that on Holy Thursday after Mass, said in the chapel of the Castle, the king and all the assemblage go to a large room where twelve poor men are sitting at table, and the king, in imitation of Christ's humility, washes their feet and serves them at dinner. During this ceremony, one of the society young ladies is to make a collection for the poor. The king himself appoints the young lady; this time he named me, and promised to give the collected money to Father Bodue for his hospital, which is being built. I felt overcome with joy hearing this, but it was not because of the poor or Father Bodue; it was simply vanity. I saw myself, not in a heavy black and unbecoming dress, but clad in white, I alone among all the other women,--and thus the handsomest of all! It was wicked, but my conscience feels better now for having confessed it here.