Letter 58. To the same

My more than dear Daughter,—Is not this a queer thing! I wrote to you yesterday with the enclosed to Sister de Gouffier: this morning, when I came out of my cell, I left the letter on the table, and I cannot find it anywhere now. No one comes in here without leave. Nobody has seen it except myself. Is it not extraordinary? I had not even closed it. The wind must have carried it over the roof. Meanwhile it is past six o’clock, and I have a strict obedience that prevents me from writing any more this evening. I do not know what I said to you, but it was something useful. See how I am hindered, dearest daughter; but I am writing to you over again in great haste. I am always longing, I assure you, that you should enjoy good health, and that is why I beseech of you to take care of it. I know how important it is to your little family. Look at what I have written to Sister de Gouffier; then fasten it securely and send it with the Rule. To do this you will have to lose no time in making a copy; in short, we will not leave this place any more until those who wish to have us know all about us.

If the Auvergne people ask you for the Rule, send it to them with an entreaty that they will make no copy of it, because it has not yet received its final approbation. Nothing, however, that is essential will be changed, nor any of the exercises. To those who ask about the approbation, as do the ladies of Billon, say that it would already have had the Pope’s blessing, which he gave to our Congregation, were it not that his Lordship has returned it to Rome in order that certain errors may be corrected which were made in the hurry of sending it. As to the rest, wait and see if we had better ask the Archbishop of Lyons for a copy of the King’s permission, and of his own permission to establish ourselves at Moulins, for he administers spiritual affairs there, awaiting the coming of age of the Bishop of Autun.

What more can I say to you? Heaps, if I only had time. Sire Piérre will bring the rest of our news to you, and to our dearest sisters. I salute them most affectionately, and anyone else that you wish me to remember. Adieu, my child. May God be our all. Amen.

One word more. You will see by the enclosed that we have not absolutely refused to go to Moulins; and this in the hope that several months will pass before things are in a condition to need us there, for—in a word—a burnt child dreads the fire.¹ I must stay here at present: the state of this house requires it. I have told you his Lordship’s resolution in my preceding letter. However, I think if he sees all set in order that he will allow some to go. In fact, Sister Jeanne Charlotte [de Bréchard] is quite ready to start. But if you can, without making it too manifest, induce these girls of Auvergne to make their novitiate at Lyons, or here, which would be very desirable. Afterwards we will give them subjects. I write breathlessly, for, notwithstanding that the night is closing in, I have just written also to Father Philippe.

LETTER 83 17

Footnotes

1. This is an allusion to the difficulties the sisters of Lyons had to master. The Saint in her maternal foresight wished to spare her new foundation the like unpleasant experiences. ↩