Another woman said, “I have not had visions; but I have experienced realities: I have seen what I thought I saw; and if I had any devotion it was for my directors. I had one whom I looked upon as my guardian angel; I had for him an extreme friendship; I made him presents and he never failed in any thing towards me; I saw him every day, and should have preferred deceiving my father rather than him. Was he sick, I suffered also; and to solace him, sent meats, confections, fruits, and even money. I was so chagrined at his absence that I could not bear my own house; I became unquiet, impatient and melancholy; every thing vexed me. His superiors having ordered his change, I almost expired with grief; I wrote to him by every mail; if I received not his letters, I felt new sorrow: a thousand phantoms presented themselves to my imagination. I fancied him as bestowing his pains upon another object, and thought that absence and change of residence had altered his inclination. He returned: what rapture! I ran to his house, although in dishabille: on the morrow I was at his feet; each day of the week I go to recount to him my pleasures and pains. In the mean time an honest man sought me in marriage; I consulted my director; he charged me to dismiss this man, who accordingly received his farewell. Another brave cavalier offered himself and received the same answer. Behold me now in my thirty-fifth year; my director exhorted me to consecrate to God my virginity: I retired to a monastery, but he was not willing that I should take the veil. At length he died; I wept, I regretted him; I observed a nine days’ devotion for his death. When my grief was assuaged, I reflected upon my age: the time of youth was past; I took the veil, contracted some amiable acquaintances, founded funeral obsequies for the repose of my soul, bequeathed my estate to the convent, and died. This is my history; this is true devotion.”