In the night which followed this saddest of all sad days, Mary, His mother, could not sleep.

And yet she saw a vision such as could not have been seen by anyone awake.
Crouching down, leaning against the stone, her eyes resting on the cross that rose tall and straight into the sky, she seemed to see a tree covered with red and white blossoms.

It was as if that branch of the Tree of Paradise which the angel had once handed over the hedge had bloomed.

It stood in the midst of a beautiful rose-garden filled with pleasant odours, running water, and songs of birds, with a wonderful light over all.

Innumerable companies of men and women passed into that Eden from out a deep abyss.