Letter XXXI. To a Lady

Same subject. So then, my dearest daughter, you are ever at the foot of the cross amidst tribulations, in the sickness of your dear husband. O, how precious are these pains which seem so hard! All the palaces of the heavenly Jerusalem, so brilliant, so lovely, so delightsome, are made of these materials, at least in man's quarter; for in that of the angels the buildings are of no St. Francis de Sales.

another kind. Yet they are not so excellent j and if envy could reign in the kingdom of eternal love, the angels would envy men two excellencies which consist in two sufferings: one is that which our Lord has borne on the cross for us, and not for them, at least not so entirely, the other is that which men endure for our Lord; — the sufferings of God for man, of man for God.

My dear daughter, if you do not make long prayers amidst your infirmities and those of your husband, make your sickness itself a prayer, offering it to him who has so loved our infirmities that, on the day of his nuptials and sacred joy, he crowned himself and glorified himself with them. Do thus.

Do not bind yourself to the same confessor, when to gain time it may be required to go to the first comer.

I am grieved that Madame de N. is so troubled; but as she loves God, all will work together to her unto good. We must leave to our sweet Lord the very loving disposition by which he often does us more good by troubles and afflictions than by happiness and consolation.

My dearest daughter, say not so much harm of your heart, for I love it so much that I do not like it to be so spoken of; it is not unfaithful, my dearest child, but it is a little weak sometimes, and a little drowsy. But, for the rest, it wishes to be all to God, I know well, and aspires to the perfection of heavenly love. God bless it then for ever, this heart of my dearest daughter, and give it the grace to be more and more humble. God be blessed!