After I spent some time in this state mentioned above – about six or seven months – the sufferings increased even more, to the point that I was forced to stay in bed. Often that state of losing consciousness multiplied, to the point that I would almost not have one hour free. I reduced myself to a state of extreme weakness; my mouth clenched in such a way that I could not open it at all, and in the few free moments I would have, I was able to take just a few drops of some drink, if I managed at all. And then I was forced to bring it up, because of the continuous vomiting which I have always had. After I remained about eighteen days in this continuous state, they called the confessor, so that I could confess. When the confessor came, he found me in that state of dozing. When I came round, he asked me what was wrong with me. Keeping silent about all the rest, and since at that time the troubles of the demons and the visits of Our Lord continued, I just said to him: ‘Father, it’s the devil.’ He said to me: “Do not be afraid, for it is not the devil; and if it is he, father will free you.” So, giving me the obedience and marking me with the sign of the cross, and helping me to loosen my arms, for I felt my whole body petrified as if it had become one single piece, he managed to restore the motion of my arms, and to make me open my mouth, which before had been unmovable to everything. I attributed this to the sanctity of my confessor, who was really a holy priest. I considered this almost a miracle; so much so, that I would say to myself: ‘See, I was ready to die’ - because I really felt ill, and if that state had continued, I think I would have left life. However, I remember that I was resigned, and that when I saw myself free, I felt a certain regret for not having died.
Then, after the confessor went away and I was free, I went back to the state of before. And so it happened that I spent sometimes a week, sometimes fifteen days, and even months, being surprised by that state every now and then during the day, and I was able to free myself by myself. But when I was discovered, very often as I said before, my family would call the confessor; more so, since they had seen that the first time I had been freed, while everyone believed that I would never again recover from that state. But then I went down to church and I returned to that state again, and so they would call the confessor, and then I would be freed. However, I could never have imagined that it would take the priest to free me from such a state, or that my trouble was an extraordinary thing. It is true that when I would lose consciousness I could see Jesus Christ, but I attributed this to the goodness of Our Lord, saying to myself: ‘See how good the Lord is with me, that He comes to give me strength in this state of sufferings; otherwise, how could I sustain it – who would give me the strength?’ It is also true that when such a state was going to occur, in the morning, during Communion He would tell me, and during that very state, sufferings would come to me from Him Himself. But I would pay attention to none of this; at the mere thought, sometimes, of telling this to the confessor, I felt I was the proudest soul that existed in the world if I dared to open my mouth to speak of these things…of seeing Jesus Christ. And I would feel such blushing, that it was impossible to say anything to that confessor, as good and holy as he was.
It was so true that I did not think that it would take the priest to free me, and that this was happening because of the sanctity of my confessor.