rmon was over, she looked carefully to
see where the Friar would celebrate mass, (2) and there she presented
herself to take the ashes from his hand. The latter was as fair and
white as any lady's, and this pious lady paid more attention to it than
to the ashes which it gave her.

1 To receive the ashes on Ash Wednesday.--M.

2 That is, in which of the chapels. A friar would not
officiate at the high altar.--Ed.

Feeling persuaded that a spiritual love such as this, with any pleasure
that she might derive from it, could not wound her conscience, she
failed not to go and hear the sermon every day and to take her husband
with her; and they both gave such great praise to the preacher, that
they spoke of nought beside at table or elsewhere. At last this supposed
spiritual fire became so carnal that the poor lady's heart in which it
glowed began to consume her whole body; and just as she had been slow to
feel the flame, so did she now swiftly kindle, and feel all the delights
of passion, before she knew that she even was in love. Being thus
surprised by her enemy, Love, she offered no further resistance to his
commands. But the worst was that the physician who might have cured
her ills was ignorant of her distemper; for which reason, banishing the
dread she should have had of making known her foolishness to a man of
wisdom, and her vice and wickedness to a man of virtue and honour, she
proceeded to write to him of the love she bore him, doing this, to begin
with, as modestly as she could. And she gave her letter to a little
page, telling him what he had to do, and saying that he was to be
careful above all things that her husband should not see him going to
the monastery of the Grey Friars.

The page, desiring to take the shortest way, passed through a street in
which his master was sitting in a shop. Seeing him pass, the gentleman
came out to observe whither he was going, and when the page perceived
him, he was quite confused, and hid himself in a house. Noticing this,
his master followed him, took him by the arm and asked him whither he
was bound. Finding also that he had a terrified look and made but empty
excuses, he threatened to beat him soundly if he did not confess the
truth.

"Alas, sir," said the poor page, "if I tell you, my lady will kill me."

The gentleman, suspecting that his wife was making some bargain without
his knowledge, promised the page that he should come by no hurt, and
should