The next day she would be surprised to see all these things neatly arranged in her drawers.

This happened to her every year about the same time, but this year she had more fatigue and less consolation.

Thus, at the hour of our Saviour's birth, when she was usually perfectly overwhelmed with joy, she could only crawl with the greatest difficulty to the crib where the Child Jesus was lying, and bring him no present but myrrh, no offering but her cross, beneath the weight of which she sank down half dying at his feet.

It seemed as though she were for the last time making up her earthly accounts with God, and for the last time also offering herself in the place of a countless number of men who were spiritually and corporally afflicted.

Even the little that is known of the manner in which she took upon herself the sufferings of others is almost incomprehensible.