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From Marie Guérin to sr Geneviève - May 17, 1895.

  

  

From Marie Guérin to sr Geneviève - May 17, 1895.

La Musse, 17th May 95

Dear little Céline,

    If only you knew how much I miss you!... and how much I’m suffering!... How sad it is to be all alone at La Musse… I did what I promised you I would do; I took my little pilgrimage as soon as I alighted the carriage. I was in my uncle’s bedroom and there, all the memories came flooding back. I relived everything… I thought how there in this room a great thing was accomplished; that there, my uncle had seen God and was so warmly welcomed. I felt as though I, too, would see something heavenly, and my uncle sent me this thought as I imagined his personal judgment in that memory-filled bedroom: “Do not judge and you shall not be judged.” I left and since then, this thought has not left me, it has remained imprinted on my mind.

     I also relived the events [lv°] of those last few days in all their detail; our conversations together when the two of us would stay by my uncle’s side, and his handsome face, which I can picture here better than anywhere else. It is as though I can still see him… There are also things that it breaks my heart to remember, and if I tell you which, it is because you allowed me to do so. I see the times when I could no longer console my Céline, and where the sorrow was bitter. I see your last kiss (before he was laid in the coffin) and then despite myself tears spring to my eyes. My trip is a mixture of sadness and joy. Every evening, during dinner, I hear the sound that my uncle’s little carriage made when he was fetched, and the memory of it is sweet. When I say that the smallest of details haven’t escaped me, I’m telling the truth. There are times when I feel as though I have been taken into the past and I am utterly surprised when I lean out of the dining room window and don’t see my uncle sitting at his little table. Despite myself, after the meals I go by the dining room window to where my uncle would always be, I was so used to going with you to see him after meals. Journeying by train, I relived everything, as I told you the other day; the wait at the station, the little square and the whole journey played out before my eyes. So many memories, if you only knew! They are sweet despite their sadness because everything happened so softly that they have left a kind of balm in their wake.

       Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, I certainly wouldn’t have done so for anyone else, but I know that for you it will plunge you into memories of the past and please you.

I’m in your little bedroom, which is a great comfort to me. I put all my little belongings where you used to put them, I enjoy copying you. I am trying to do as you did and be a great saint. I often say to myself: in this little room, what did Céline think, what did she do? And then I think what you thought and I try my hardest to acquire the two fine virtues that I have so often said you represented for me: generosity and simplicity. Just seeing you led me to love [2v°] God and trust him. Do you remember how many times I told you this…

       I wasn’t able to bring my pastry-making utensils, you must have them; we looked for them everywhere in the house. You must have the rolling pin and round tin. Would you send them to my Aunt for Wednesday, Hélène will bring them to me that day because she should be coming.

         Jeanne receives letters from her husband every day without fail. I envy her lot, not for having a husband, God preserve me, but for receiving letters from my Carmel, which are more saintly and much more efficient than others.

       It is as cold as mid-winter, I only brought my summer dresses and I suffer terribly when I go to Mass. La Musse is not as cheerful in the month of May as in July.

       I will write to you soon, I haven’t had the time to tell you everything I wanted to tell you. The Miss de Fayets are not here. Sr. Lebreton enquired after you. I fear missing the post.

I love you with all my heart.

Marie

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