At the same time that I was suffering the most from these reproaches, I could not blame her for disapproving of the large amount of time that I consecrated to Gertrude. What I reproached her for, rather, was that she had no confidence that my efforts would result in some kind of success. Yes it was the lack of faith that pained me, but that did not discourage me from continuing. How often did I hear her repeat,

 

“If you could just get some kind of result.”

 

And she remained convinced that my effort was in vain, such that it naturally appeared to her improper that I consecrate so much time to this effort that she felt could be employed differently. And each time that I worked with Gertrude, she would let me know that I do not know who or what needed my attention, and that I was spending time with Gertrude that I should have used to help others. Finally, I believe that a sort of maternal jealousy motivated her, for I heard her say more than once,

 

“You have never done this much for any of your own children.”

 

And this was true, for if I love my children a great deal, I never believed that I needed to spend a lot of time with them.

 

I often felt that the parable of the lost sheep was one of the most difficult to understand for certain people who consider themselves to be profoundly Christian. That each sheep in the herd, taken apart, could be more precious in the eyes of the shepherd than all the rest of the herd taken together, this is what they cannot bring themselves to understand. And these words,

 

“If a man has 100 sheep and if one of them is lost, will he not leave the 99 others alone in the mountains to go in search for the one that is lost?” These words are full of charity, but the people who do not understand them would, if they were to speak frankly, claim that they evoked the most revolting injustice.

 

The first smiles of Gertrude consoled me completely and repaid me 100 times for my care. For, “This sheep, if the shepherd finds it, I say to you truly, will bring more joy than the other 99 who were never lost.” Yes, I admit honestly, that no smile from any one of my children had ever filled my heart with such seraphic joy than the one I saw break out on the face of this statue one morning, when she suddenly seemed to begin to understand and become interested in what I had tried so hard to teach her for so many days.

 

The 5th of March. I noted this date like that of a birthday. It was less of a smile than a transfiguration. All of a sudden her features were animated. It was like a subtle light, similar to the crimson glow in the high Alps which, before the dawn, makes the snowy summit that it is outlining and pulling from the night, vibrate. One could say that it was a mystical coloration, and I thought about the pool of Bethesda at the moment when the angel descended and woke up the sleeping waters. I felt a sort of ravishing delight from the angelic expression that Gertrude suddenly took, for it appeared that what she expressed at that instant was not so much intelligence but love. This show of gratitude lifted me up such that it seemed that I was offering to God the kiss I placed on this beautiful forehead.

 

As much as these first results were difficult to obtain, her subsequent progress was equally rapid. I am trying to remember today the paths that we proceeded upon. It sometimes seemed to me that Gertrude advanced by such leaps and bounds that her progress was mocking my methods. I remember that at first we concentrated upon the qualities of objects rather than the variety of them: the heat, the cold, the warmth, the soft, the bitter, the rough, the supple, the light… Then we concentrated upon movements: to go away, to come back, to lift, to cross, to lie down, to tie, to disperse, to put back together, etc. And then soon we abandoned all methods. I began to speak with her without worrying much about whether her mind always followed me. But slowly, I invited her and provoked her to question me at her leisure. Certainly her mind was working during the time that I left her alone, because each time that I saw her again, there were new surprises, and I felt that her understanding was increasing even in the short period of one night. I thought that it was just like what happens when the warmth of the air and the insistence of springtime triumphs little by little over winter. How many times had I admired the way in which the snow melts. One could say that the blanket wears itself out from underneath, and that its appearance on the top remains the same. Each winter Amélie notices this and tells me that the snow has not changed. One would think it is still thick, when all of a sudden here and there, from place to place, the earth starts to appear and life begins again.

 

Fearing that Gertrude would wither away like an old woman if she remained next to the fire all the time, I began to take her outside for walks. She would only agree to this if she could hold my arm. When she first left the house, she was surprised and afraid, and this made me understand, even before she could speak to me about it, that she had never before hazarded out of doors.