stripped of its spoils and of the handsome maidens that were found within it, and the monks were shut up in the building and burned with it, as an everlasting memorial of this crime, by which we see that there is nothing more dangerous than love when it is founded upon vice, just as there is nothing more gentle or praiseworthy when it dwells in a virtuous heart. (2)

"I am very sorry, ladies, that truth does not provide us with stories as much to the credit of the Grey Friars as it does to the contrary. It would be a great pleasure to me, by reason of the love that I bear their Order, if I knew of one in which I could really praise them; but we have vowed so solemnly to speak the truth that, after hearing it from such as are well worthy of belief, I cannot but make it known to you. Nevertheless, I promise you that, whenever the monks shall accomplish a memorable and glorious deed, I will be at greater pains to exalt it than I have been in relating the present truthful history."

"In good faith, Geburon," said Oisille, "that was a love which might well have been called cruelty."

"I am astonished," said Simontault, "that he was patient enough not to take her by force when he saw her in her shift, and in a place where he might have mastered her."

"He was not an epicure, but a glutton," said Saffredent. "He wanted to have his fill of her every day, and so was not minded to amuse himself with a mere taste."

"That was not the reason," said Parlamente. "Understand that a lustful man is always timorous, and the fear that he had of being surprised and robbed of his prey led him, wolf-like, to carry off his lamb that he might devour it at his ease."

"For all that," said Dagoucin, "I cannot believe that he loved her, or that the virtuous god of love could dwell in so base a heart."

"Be that as it may," said Oisille, "he was well punished, and I pray God that like attempts may meet with the same chastisement. But to whom will you give your vote?"

"To you, madam," replied Geburon; "you will, I know, not fail to tell us a good story."

"Since it is my turn," said Oisille, "I will relate to you one that is indeed excellent, seeing that the adventure befel in my own day, and before the eyes of him who told it to me. You are, I am sure, aware that death ends all our woes, and this being so, it may be termed our happiness and tranquil rest. It is, therefore, a misfortune if a man desires death and cannot obtain it, and so the most grievous punishment that can be given to a wrongdoer is not death, but a continual torment, great enough to render death desirable, but withal too slight to bring it nearer. And this was how a husband used his wife, as you shall hear."

[Bernage observing the German Lady's Strange Penance]