October 5, 1554
Meudon

I have been called back to Meudon. Grandmama is desperately ill. She has received the Last Rites, and I now sit by her bed. I hold her hand, and the rosary she gave me is entwined between both our fingers. Some terrible paroxysm felled her. Her face is skewed sideways into a strange grimace. The left side of her body does not move. One eye is shut and the other open in an icy stare. We know not if she hears us or even recognizes us.