But like a true-hearted man he obeyed her request, dropping her hands and saying softly, "Thou dost not hate me, then, thou cold-hearted nun?"
"Nay, naught of reason have I to hate thee, Sonnlein"—and how sweetly she said his name—"but dost not know, thou mighty hunter, woman expects little less than perfection in him she would love," and then she said maliciously, so I could not fathom her, "surely thou dost not think thyself perfect?"
"As to thy last," he rejoined, "I shall make answer, I am human. I leave it to woman to be perfect"—the flatterer. "As to thy first I doubt not thy sex ever looks for perfection in our imperfect sex, and it strikes me this accounts more for our Sisterhood than does their love for their heavenly Bridegroom, whom they see not until after death."
"Thou irreverent scoundrel," thought I.
"And yet," continued he, "when I think of him for whom our Sister Eunice lately left the Roses of Saron, it seemeth as though some of thy sex at least look not for perfection."
"Still I say our foolish hearts yearn for the ideal, but when we love the attainable we forgive everything, and this is woman's weakness."
"Nay, sister, 'tis her most glorious strength that she, an angel, can stoop down and make him see heaven in her."
"That I had the gift to speak with such a golden tongue," thought I, and then fortunately for us all—for I liked not my spying, and yet I could not leave unnoticed—Sonnlein chanced to see Brother Alburtus approach. Suddenly that scamp of mine kissed her full on her sweet lips. How she blushed and said not a word, as he held her close to him for a moment whispering passionately, "Thou must love me as I love thee, forever!" and then as they both saw Brother Alburtus perilously nigh, she quietly sat down again at her former place, most demurely, while Sonnlein passed on toward his Kammer.
As Brother Alburtus came upon her he stopped for a moment, hand rubbing hand as usual, looked at her in grave absorption and passed on as though she were not there.
And then I could have sworn I saw peering at her, and next at the departing form of Brother Alburtus, the loathsome features of that awful woman whom I had not seen for over ten years, from the shelter of a tangled clump of vines and brush, which I solemnly promised myself should be cut down on the morrow, root and branch.