“Stay! Oh! stay!” she cried in the accents of despair, while she threw herself at the friar’s feet, and bathed them with her tears. “Father, compassionate my youth! Look with indulgence on a woman’s weakness, and deign to conceal my frailty! The remainder of my life shall be employed in expiating this single fault, and your lenity will bring back a soul to heaven!”

“Amazing confidence! What! Shall St. Clare’s convent become the retreat of prostitutes? Shall I suffer the church of Christ to cherish in its bosom debauchery and shame? Unworthy wretch! Such lenity would make me your accomplice. Mercy would here be criminal. You have abandoned yourself to a seducer’s lust; you have defiled the sacred habit by your impurity; and still dare you think yourself deserving my compassion? Hence, nor detain me longer! Where is the lady prioress?” he added, raising his voice.