“By the Great Duke of Hell! Will you not bridle your tongue when the damned monks are three deep at the key hole?”
By which it will be seen that the travels of the pious Don Diego were not all on paths of roses.
A little later the still faced priest of the stealthy glances came in, and Don Ruy sat on the side of the bed, and looked him over.
“You are the one who picked me up––eh? And the gentlemen of the streets had tossed me into a corner after discreetly starting my soul on its travels! Warm trysts your dames give to a stranger in this land––when you next confess the darlings, whisper their ears to be less bloodthirsty towards youth innocence!”
The man in the robe smiled.
“That unwise maid will make no more trysts,” he 67 said quietly,––“not if she be one important enough to cause an assault on your Highness.”
“Did they––?”
“No––no––harm would not be done to her, but her destiny is without doubt a convent. The men who spoiled your tryst earn no purses as guard for girls of the street,––sacred walls will save them that trouble for a time––whether maid or wife I dare promise you that! It is as well you know. Time is wasted seeking adventure placed beyond mortal reach.”
“Convent––eh? Do your holy retreats teach the little tricks the lady knew? And do they furnish their vestals with poems of romance and silks and spices of Kathay?”
He drew from an inner pocket a little scarf of apple green with knotted fringes, and butterflies, various colored in dainty broidery. As the folds fell apart an odor of sweetness stole into the shadowy room of the monastery, and the priest was surprised into an ejaculation at sight of such costly evidence, but he smothered it hastily in a muttered prayer.