Now that night the abbess had with her a priest whom she used not seldom to have conveyed to her in a chest; and the report of the sisters making her apprehensive lest for excess of zeal and hurry they should force the door open, she rose in a trice; and huddling on her clothes as best she might in the dark, instead of the veil that they wear, which they call the psalter, she caught up the priest’s breeches, and having clapped them on her head, hied her forth, and locked the door behind her, saying:—­“Where is this woman accursed of God?” And so, guided by the sisters, all so agog to catch Isabetta a sinning that they perceived not what manner of headgear the abbess wore, she made her way to the cell, and with their aid broke open the door; and entering they found the two lovers abed in one another’s arms; who, as it were, thunderstruck to be thus surprised, lay there, witting not what to do.  The sisters took the young nun forthwith, and by command of the abbess brought her to the chapter-house.  The gallant, left behind in the cell, put on his clothes and waited to see how the affair would end, being minded to make as many nuns as he might come at pay dearly for any despite that might be done his mistress, and to bring her off with him.  The abbess, seated in the chapter-house with all her nuns about her, and all eyes bent upon the culprit, began giving her the severest reprimand that ever woman got, for that by her disgraceful and abominable conduct, should it get wind, she had sullied the fair fame of the convent; whereto she added menaces most dire.  Shamefast and timorous, the culprit essayed no defence, and her silence begat pity of her in the rest; but, while the abbess waxed more and more voluble, it chanced that the girl raised her head and espied the abbess’s headgear, and the points that hung down on this side and that.  The significance whereof being by no means lost upon her, she quite plucked up heart, and:—­“Madam,” quoth she, “so help you God, tie up your coif, and then you may say what you will to me.”  Whereto the abbess, not understanding her, replied:—­“What coif, lewd woman?  So thou hast the effrontery to jest!  Think’st thou that what thou hast done is a matter meet for jests?” Whereupon:—­“Madam,” quoth the girl again, “I pray you, tie up your coif, and then you may say to me whatever you please.”  Which occasioned not a few of the nuns to look up at the abbess’s head, and the abbess herself to raise her hands thereto, and so she and they at one and the same time apprehended Isabetta’s meaning.  Wherefore the abbess, finding herself detected by all in the same sin, and that no disguise was possible, changed her tone, and held quite another sort of language than before, the upshot of which was that ’twas impossible to withstand the assaults of the flesh, and that, accordingly, observing due secrecy as theretofore, all might give themselves a good time, as they had opportunity.  So, having dismissed Isabetta to rejoin her lover in her cell, she herself returned to lie with her priest.  And many a time thereafter, in spite of the envious, Isabetta had her gallant to see her, the others, that lacked lovers, doing in secret the best they might to push their fortunes.