"My son," said Clement, "before absolution cometh confession. In which act there must be no reservation, as thou valuest thy soul's weal. Bethink thee, therefore, wherein thou hast most offended God and the Church, while I offer up a prayer for wisdom to direct thee."
Clement then kneeled and prayed; and, when he rose from his knees, he said to Ghysbrecht, with apparent calmness, "My son, confess thy sins."
"Ah, father," said the sick man, "they are many and great."
"Great then be thy penitence, my son; so shalt thou find God's mercy great."
Ghysbrecht put his hands together, and began to confess with every appearance of contrition.
He owned he had eaten meat in mid-Lent. He had often absented himself from mass on the Lord's day, and saints' day: and had trifled with other religious observances, which he enumerated with scrupulous fidelity.
When he had done, the friar said, quietly, "'Tis well, my son. These be faults. Now to thy crimes. Thou hadst done better to begin with them."
"Why, father, what crimes lie to my account if these be none?"
"Am I confessing to thee, or thou to me?" said Clement, somewhat severely.
"Forgive me, father! Why, surely, I to you. But I know not what you call crimes."