“Now, what mortal imagination could conceive it!” whispered the old lady, confidentially, to Hester. “Yonder divine man! That saint on earth, as the people uphold him to be, and as⁠—I must needs say⁠—he really looks! Who, now, that saw him pass in the procession, would think how little while it is since he went forth out of his study⁠—chewing a Hebrew text of Scripture in his mouth, I warrant⁠—to take an airing in the forest! Aha! we know what that means, Hester Prynne! But, truly, forsooth, I find it hard to believe him the same man. Many a church-member saw I, walking behind the music, that has danced in the same measure with me, when Somebody was fiddler, and, it might be, an Indian powwow or a Lapland wizard changing hands with us! That is but a trifle, when a woman knows the world. But this minister! Couldst thou surely tell, Hester, whether he was the same man that encountered thee on the forest-path?”