of their tears that I, a Dominican, undertook this
task; and broke the rule of my order by entering an inn; and broke it
again by donning these lay vestments. But all is well done, and quit for
a light penance, if thou wilt let us rescue thy soul from this den of
wolves, and bring thee back to thy vows."

The nun gazed at him with tears in her eyes. "And thou, a Dominican,
hast done this for a daughter of St. Francis! Why, the Franciscans and
Dominicans hate one another."

"Ay, my daughter; but Francis and Dominic love one another."

The recreant nun seemed struck and affected by this answer

Clement now reminded her how shocked she had been that the Virgin should
be robbed of her chain. "But see now," said he, "the convent, and
the Virgin too, think ten times more of their poor nun than of golden
chains; for they freely trusted their chain to me a stranger, that
peradventure the sight of it might touch their lost Mary and remind her
of their love," Finally he showed her with such terrible simplicity the
end of her present course, and on the other hand so revived her dormant
memories and better feelings, that she kneeled sobbing at his feet, and
owned she had never known happiness nor peace since she betrayed her
vows; and said she would go back if he would go with her; but alone
she dared not, could not: even if she reached the gate she could never
enter. How could she face the abbess and the sisters? He told her he
would go with her as joyfully as the shepherd bears a strayed lamb to
the fold.

But when he urged her to go at once, up sprung a crop of those
prodigiously petty difficulties that entangle her sex, like silken nets,
liker iron cobwebs.

He quietly swept them aside.

"But how can I walk beside thee in this habit?"

"I have brought the gown and cowl of thy holy order. Hide thy bravery
with them. And leave thy shoes as I leave these" (pointing to his
horseman's boots).

She collected her jewels and ornaments.

"What are these for?" inquired Clement.

"To present to the convent, father."

"Their source is too impure."

"But," objected the penitent, "it would be a sin to leave them here.
They can be sold to feed the poor."

"Mary, fix thine eye on this crucifix, and trample those devilish
baubles beneath thy feet."

She hesitated; but soon threw them down and trampled on them.

"Now open the window and fling them out on that dunghill. 'Tis well
done. So pass the wages of sin from thy hands