Sweet Jole lowered her dark eyes still more, while deep blushes covered her face, for she was greatly ashamed of the wicked things she was about to say to this man.
“I am an orphan,” she said, “and this rug, this lamp, and this rose-bush is all that is left me of my possessions. So I have resolved to begin life where the other woman left it who was here before me!”
“The deuce you will!” cried the monk, beating his hands together. “Alack-a-day, how busy Satan is! And this harmless little creature tells me the thing as dryly as if I were not the monk Vitalis! Well, tell me again, pussy, what is it you will do?”
“I will give my life to love and serve men so long as this rose blooms!” she said, pointing lightly to the bush; but she could scarcely speak the words for shame, and cowered down low upon the floor, and this natural shame served the rogue very well to convince the monk that here he had to do with an innocent child possessed of the devil. He stroked his beard with pleasure at having appeared upon the scene just at the nick of time, and said slowly, and with a twinkle of fun—
“And then later, my dove?”
“Then my poor soul will go to Hell, where beautiful Madam Venus is; or perhaps if I find a good preacher, I will go into a monastery and do penance!”
“Better and better,” he cried. “As regards the preacher, he is here already, and stands before you, you black-eyed child of Hell! And the monastery is awaiting you like a mouse-trap, and I will see to it that you walk in there before sinning, do you hear? Before sinning, except for the laudable purpose which shall serve you to do penance on. And now,” he added in a serious tone, “down with the roses and listen to me!”
“No,” said Jole, growing bolder, “I will listen first, and then see about taking down the roses. Having once overcome my feminine modesty, words do not suffice to hold me back before knowing sin, and without sin I shall know no repentance.”
Now Vitalis began the most beautiful sermon he had ever preached. The girl listened with a charming raptness, which in its turn influenced the choice of his words, the beauty and grace of the object to be converted imperceptibly calling forth a higher eloquence. But as she was not at all serious in the frivolous speeches she had made to him, she could not be very deeply impressed by his words; a sweet smile floated about her lips, and when he had finished, Jole said, “I am but half touched by your words, and cannot give up my project; I am too curious to know the joys of this world!”
