Hæc.—"What could be done? it was a blessed thing to live in peace. Besides, the priest was such a pious man."
Illa.—"Pious? Heaven defend us from such piety! Why, had she not heard?—the whole convent talked about it."
Hæc.—"No, no; for God's sake, what had happened? tell her—she had been making sausages all the morning, and had heard nothing."
Illa.—"Then know, ah God, how it pained her to talk of it—she had heard a great noise in the kitchen in the morning, as if all the pots and pans were tumbled about, and when she ran in to see—there was the priest—oh, her chaste eyes never had seen such a sight—the pious priest making love to her old maid, Wolde."
Hæc.—"Impossible, impossible!—to her old maid, Wolde?"
Illa.-"Yea, and he was praying her for kisses, and praising her fat hand, and extolling her white hair. But as to what more she had seen——"
Hæc.—"For God's sake, sister, what more?"
Illa (sighing, and covering her face with both hands).—"No, no, that she could never bring her chaste lips to utter. Oh, that such wickedness should be in the world (weeping bitterly). But she would never enter the chapel again, and that priest there; nor receive the rites from him. But this was not all; the dear sister must hear how he revenged himself upon her, because she interrupted his toying with the old hag. It was truth, all truth! She (Sidonia) grew so ill with fright and horror that she was unable to disrobe, and threw herself on the bed just as she was, but growing weaker and weaker hour by hour, sent for the priest at last, to pray with her, and afterwards to offer up general supplication for her restoration, in the chapel with all the sisterhood; but only think, the shameless hypocrite refused to pray with her, because he spied an end of her black robe out of the bed, declaring she was not ill at all, that she was a base liar, all because she had lain down in her convent dress, and finally went his way cursing and swearing, without even saying one prayer, or uttering one word of comfort, as was his duty. And now, alas! she must die without priest or sacrament! To what a Sodom and Gomorrah she had come! But if an old hag like her maid was not safe from the shameless parson, how could she or any of them be safe? What was to be done? unless the dear sister, as sub-prioress, took the matter in her own hands, and brought him to task about it?"
At this proposal the other trembled like an aspen leaf, and seemed more dead than alive. She wept, wrung her hands—for God's sake what could she do? how could she talk on such a matter? Let the abbess see to it, if she chose.
Illa.—"Stuff, the old pussy—the less said of her the better. Why, she was worse than the old maid, Wolde, herself."