"He reviles the saints and the souls of the departed."
"He torments animals." Each one had something to say; especially the last.
"He is the accursed child of a mad mother."
"She is the destruction of all men," continued the Abbot. "She sins against all the commandments."
"She tramples under foot all the sacraments."
"She is a raging fury and a sacrilegious witch."
"She sent her husband to his grave with a deadly drink."
The Prior met all these horrible comments with a stoical calm. "Still she is our gracious patroness, and her son also will one day be our patron. We must drink the bitter cup to its dregs. Let us choose."
Still all shook their heads.
"I have the fever in my bones," said one, rubbing his leg.