Then, to let her see the beginning of the pastime that he sought, he took her in his arms and tried to throw her upon a bed.  She, recognising his evil purpose, defended herself so well with arms and voice that he could only touch her garments.  Then, when he saw that all his devices and efforts were being brought to naught, he behaved like a madman and one devoid not only of conscience but of natural reason, for, thrusting his hand under her dress, he scratched wherever his nails could reach with such fury that the poor girl shrieked out, and fell swooning at full length upon the floor.

Hearing this cry, the Abbess came into the dormitory; for while at vespers she had remembered that she had left her niece’s daughter alone with the good father, and feeling some scruples of conscience, she had left the chapel and repaired to the door of the dormitory in order to learn what was going on.  On hearing her niece’s voice, she pushed open the door, which was being held by the young monk.

And when the Prior saw the Abbess coming, he pointed to her niece as she lay in a swoon, and said—­

“Assuredly, mother, you are greatly to blame that you did not inform me of Sister Marie’s condition.  Knowing nothing of her weakness, I caused her to stand before me, and, while I was reproving her, she swooned away as you see.”

They revived her with vinegar and other remedies, and found that she had wounded her head in her fall.  When she was recovered, the Prior, fearing that she would tell her aunt the reason of her indisposition, took her aside and said to her—­

“I charge you, my daughter, if you would be obedient and hope for salvation, never to speak of what I said to you just now.  You must know that it was my exceeding love for you that constrained me, but since I see that you do not wish to love me, I will never speak of it to you again.  However, if you be willing, I promise to have you chosen Abbess of one of the three best convents in the kingdom.”

She replied that she would rather die in perpetual imprisonment than have any lover save Him who had died for her on the cross, for she would rather suffer with Him all the evils the world could inflict than possess without Him all its blessings.  And she added that he must never again speak to her in such a manner, or she would inform the Abbess; whereas, if he kept silence, so would she.

Thereupon this evil shepherd left her, and in order to make himself appear quite other than he was, and to again have the pleasure of looking upon her he loved, he turned to the Abbess and said—­

“I beg, mother, that you will cause all your nuns to sing a Salve Regina in honour of that virgin in whom I rest my hope.”

While this was being done, the old fox did nothing but shed tears, not of devotion, but of grief at his lack of success.  All the nuns, thinking that it was for love of the Virgin Mary, held him for a holy man, but Sister Marie, who knew his wickedness, prayed in her heart that one having so little reverence for virginity might be brought to confusion.