He swallowed a sob. Then, with something of his father's stoniness, "Suffering chastens, Miriam," he said. "It is God's weapon."
"Accuse not God of thy cruelty. I hate thee." She went on rapidly, "It is rumored in the Ghetto thou art to be a friar of St. Dominic. Shloumi the Droll brought the news."
"It is so, Miriam. I am to take the vows at once."
"But how canst thou become a priest? Thou lovest a woman."
He stopped in his walk, startled.
"What sayest thou, Miriam?"
"Nay, this is no time for denials. I know her. I know thy love for her. It is Helena de' Franchi."
He was white and agitated. "Nay, I love no woman."
"Thou lovest Helena."
"How knowest thou that?"