Around that time, our parish priest came to know of what was happening, and sent word to my mother to take me to his house. My mother felt she could breathe again, thinking the priest was going to take responsibility for these events on himself. She therefore said to me: “Tomorrow, we’re going to Mass, first thing in the morning. Then, you are going to the Reverend Father’s house. Just let him compel you to tell the truth, no matter how he does it; let him punish you; let them do whatever he likes with you, just so long as he forces you to admit that you have lied; and then I’ll be satisfied.”
My sisters took my mother’s part and invented endless threats, just to frighten me about the interview with the parish priest. I told Jacinta and her brother all about it. “We’re going also,” they replied, “The Reverend Father told our mother to take us there too, but she didn’t say any of those things to us. Never Mind! If they beat us, we’ll suffer for love of Our Lord and for sinners.”
Next day I walked behind my mother, who did not address a single word to me the whole way. I must admit that I was trembling at the thought of what was going to happen. During Mass, I offered my suffering to God. Afterwards, I followed my mother out of the church over the priest’s house, and started up the stairs leading to the verandah. We had climbed only a few steps, when my mother turned round and exclaimed: “Don’t annoy me anymore! Tell the Reverend Father now that you have lied, so that on Sunday he can say in the church that it was all a lie, and that will be the end of the whole affair. A nice business, this is! All the crowd running to the Cove da Iria, just to pray in front of a holm oak bush!”
Without more ado, she knocked on the door. The good priest’s housekeeper opened the door and invited us to sit down on a bench and wait a while. At last, the parish priest appeared. He took us into his study, motioned my mother to take a seat, and beckoned me over to his desk. When I found that his Reverence was questioning me quite calmly, and with such a kindly manner, I was amazed. I was still fearful, however, of what was yet to come. The interrogation was very minute and, I would venture to say, tiresome. His Reverence concluded with this brief observation: “It doesn’t seem to me like a revelation from Heaven. It is usual in such cases for Our Lord to tell the souls to whom He makes such communications to give their confessor or parish priest an account of what has happened. But this child, on the contrary, keeps it to herself as far as she can. This may also be a deceit of the devil. We shall see. The future will show us what we are to think about it all.”