Fancy! Heaven, as a punishment, deprived me of the Communion for a year and three months to a day.

When I confessed to a priest, I owned to my intercourse with Our Saviour, and the Virgin and the Angels; then he at once treated me as a mad woman, unless he accused me of being possessed by the devil; to conclude, he refused me absolution, and I thought myself happy if he did not slam the little wicket of the confessional roughly in my face at my very first words.
"I believe I should have died of grief if the Lord had not at last had pity on me.

One Saturday, when I was in Paris, He sent me to Notre Dame des Victoires, where the Father was in the confessional.

He listened to me, he put me through long and severe tests, and then he granted me Communion.

I often went to him again as a penitent, and then the niece who kept house for him retired into a convent, and I took her place; and I have been his housekeeper near on ten years now--" She told her story with many breaks.