eturn to continue for a long time praying
in the church. And the monks, who when going to and fro at the hour of
matins used to see him there on his knees, were thereby led to consider
him the holiest man alive.

This Prince had a sister (5) who often visited this monastery, and as
she loved her brother more than any other living being, she used to
commend him to the prayers of all whom she knew to be good.

5 This of course is Queen Margaret, then Duchess of
Alencon. On account of her apparent intimacy with the prior,
M. de Montaiglon conjectures that the monastery may have
been that of St. Martin-in-the-Fields.--See ante, Tale
XXII.--Ed.

One day, when she was in this manner commending him lovingly to the
Prior of the monastery, the Prior said to her--

"Ah, madam, whom are you thus commending to me? You are speaking to me
of a man in whose prayers, above those of all others, I would myself
fain be remembered. For if he be not a holy man and a just"--here he
quoted the passage which says, "Blessed is he that can do evil and doeth
it not"--"_I_ cannot hope to be held for such."

The sister, wishing to learn what knowledge this worthy father could
have of her brother's goodness, questioned him so pressingly that he at
last told her the secret under the seal of the confessional, saying--

"Is it not an admirable thing to see a young and handsome Prince forsake
pleasure and repose in order to come so often to hear our matins? Nor
comes he like a Prince seeking honour of men, but quite alone, like a
simple monk, and hides himself in one of our chapels. Truly such piety
so shames both the monks and me, that we do not deem ourselves worthy of
being called men of religion in comparison with him."

When the sister heard these words she was at a loss what to think. She
knew that, although her brother was worldly enough, he had a tender
conscience, as well as great faith and love towards God; but she had
never suspected him of a leaning towards any superstitions or rites save
such as a good Christian should observe. (6) She therefore went to him
and told him the good opinion that the monks had of him, whereat he
could not hold from laughing, and in such a manner that she, knowing
him as she did her own heart, perceived that there was something hidden
beneath his devotion; whereupon she rested not until she had made him
tell her the truth.

6 In Boaistuau's edition this sentence ends, "But