ey knew, until at last they grew weary, and, finding that night
was come and that it was late, retired one after another to rest. Thus,
to shroud the body, there remained only one of the youngest of the nuns,
with a monk whom she feared more than the Prior or any other, by reason
of the severity that he displayed in both speech and life.

When they had duly uttered their Hours in the poor man's ear, they
perceived that he was dead, and thereupon laid him out. Whilst
engaged on this last deed of charity, the monk began to speak of
the wretchedness of life, and the blessedness of death; and in such
discourse they continued until after midnight.

The poor girl listened attentively to the monk's pious utterances,
looking at him the while with tears in her eyes; and so pleasing were
these to him that, whilst speaking of the life to come, he began
to embrace her as though he longed to bear her away in his arms to
Paradise.

The poor girl, listening to his discourse and deeming him the most pious
of the community, ventured not to say him nay.

Perceiving this, the wicked monk, whilst still speaking of God,
accomplished with her the work which the devil suddenly put into their
hearts--for before there had been no question of such a thing. He
assured her, however, that secret sin was not imputed to men by God, and
that two persons who had no ties, could do no wrong in this manner,
when no scandal came of it; and, to avoid all scandal, he told her to be
careful to confess to none but himself.

So they parted each from the other, she going first. And as she passed
through a chapel dedicated to Our Lady, she was minded to make her
prayer as was her wont. But when she began with the words, "Mary,
Virgin," she remembered that she had lost the title of virginity not
through force or love, but through foolish fear; and she began to weep
so bitterly that it seemed as if her heart must break.

The monk, hearing the sighing from a distance, suspected her repentance,
which might make him lose his delight, and to prevent this, he came and,
finding her prostrate before the image, began to rebuke her harshly,
telling her that if she had any scruples of conscience she should
confess herself to him, and that she need not so act again unless she
desired; for she might behave in either way without sin. The foolish
nun, thinking to make atonement to God, confessed herself to the monk;
but in respect of penance he swore to her that she did no