In the meantime, news of what had happened was spreading. My mother was getting worried, and wanted at all costs to make me deny what I had said. One day, before I set out with the flock, she was determined to make me confess that I was telling lies, and to this end she spared neither caresses, nor threats, not even the broomstick. To all of this, she received nothing but a mute silence, or the confirmation of all that I had already said.
She told me to go and let out the sheep, and during the day to consider well that she had never tolerated a single lie among her children, and much less would she allow a lie of this kind. She warned me that she would force me, that very evening, to go to those people whom I had deceived, confess that I had lied and ask their pardon. I went off with my sheep, and that day my little companions were already waiting for me. When they saw me crying, they ran up and asked me what was the matter.
I told them all that had happened, and added: “Tell me now, what am I to do? My mother is determined at all costs to make me say that I was lying. But how can I?”
Then Francisco said to Jacinta: “You see! It’s all your fault; why did you have to tell them?”
The poor child, in tears, knelt down, joined her hands, and asked our forgiveness: “I did wrong,” she said through her tears, “but I will never tell anything to anybody again!”
Your Excellency will probably be wondering who taught Jacinta to make such an act of humility? I don’t know. Perhaps she had seen her brothers and sisters asking their parents for forgiveness before going to Communion; or else, as I think myself, Jacinta was the one who received from Our Lady a greater abundance of grace, and a better knowledge of God and of virtue. When the parish priest sent for us some time later, to question us, Jacinta put her head down, and only with difficulty did he succeed in getting a word or two out of her.
Once outside, I asked her: “Why didn’t you answer the priest?”
“Because I promised you never to tell anything to anybody again!”
One day she asked: “Why can’t we say that the Lady told us to make sacrifices for sinners?”
“So they won’t be asking what kind of sacrifices we are making.”
My mother became more and more upset at the way things were progressing. This led her to make yet another attempt to force me to confess that I had lied. One morning early, she called me and told me she was taking me to see the parish priest, saying: “When you get there, go down on your knees, tell him that you’ve lied, and ask his pardon.”
As we were going past my aunt’s house, my mother went inside for a few minutes. This gave me a chance to tell Jacinta what was happening. Seeing me so upset, she shed some tears and said: “I’m going to get up and call Francisco. We’ll go and pray for you at the well. When you get back, come and find us there.”
On my return, I ran to the well, and there were the two of them on their knees, praying. As soon as they saw me, Jacinta ran to hug me, and then she said: “You see! We must never be afraid of anything! The Lady will help us always. She’s such a good friend of ours!”
Ever since the day Our Lady taught us to offer our sacrifices to Jesus, any time we had something to suffer, or agreed to make a sacrifice, Jacinta asked: “Did you already tell Jesus that it is for the love of Him?”
If I said I hadn’t, she answered: “Then I’ll tell Him,” and joining her hands, she raised her eyes to heaven and said: “Oh Jesus, it is for love of you, and for the conversion of sinners!”