clothes, and to be quite the trim gallant, and to compose songs and sonnets and ballades, and to sing them, and to make a brave shew in all else that pertained to his new character.  But why enlarge upon our Fra Rinaldo, of whom we speak? what friars are there that do not the like?  Ah! opprobrium of a corrupt world!  Sleek-faced and sanguine, daintily clad, dainty in all their accessories, they ruffle it shamelessly before the eyes of all, shewing not as doves but as insolent cocks with raised crest and swelling bosom, and, what is worse (to say nought of the vases full of electuaries and unguents, the boxes packed with divers comfits, the pitchers and phials of artificial waters, and oils, the flagons brimming with Malmsey and Greek and other wines of finest quality, with which their cells are so packed that they shew not as the cells of friars, but rather as apothecaries’ or perfumers’ shops), they blush not to be known to be gouty, flattering themselves that other folk wot not that long fasts and many of them, and coarse fare and little of it, and sober living, make men lean and thin and for the most part healthy; or if any malady come thereof, at any rate ’tis not the gout, the wonted remedy for which is chastity and all beside that belongs to the regimen of a humble friar.  They flatter themselves, too, that others wot not that over and above the meagre diet, long vigils and orisons and strict discipline ought to mortify men and make them pale, and that neither St. Dominic nor St. Francis went clad in stuff dyed in grain or any other goodly garb, but in coarse woollen habits innocent of the dyer’s art, made to keep out the cold, and not for shew.  To which matters ’twere well God had a care, no less than to the souls of the simple folk by whom our friars are nourished.

Fra Rinaldo, then, being come back to his first affections, took to visiting his gossip very frequently; and gaining confidence, began with more insistence than before to solicit her to that which he craved of her.  So, being much urged, the good lady, to whom Fra Rinaldo, perhaps, seemed now more handsome than of yore, had recourse one day, when she felt herself unusually hard pressed by him, to the common expedient of all that would fain concede what is asked of them, and said:—­“Oh! but Fra Rinaldo, do friars then do this sort of thing?” “Madam,” replied Fra Rinaldo, “when I divest myself of this habit, which I shall do easily enough, you will see that I am a man furnished as other men, and no friar.”  Whereto with a truly comical air the lady made answer:—­“Alas! woe’s me! you are my child’s godfather:  how might it be? nay, but ’twere a very great mischief; and many a time I have heard that ’tis a most heinous sin; and without a doubt, were it not so, I would do as you wish.”  “If,” said Fra Rinaldo, “you forego it for such a scruple as this, you are a fool for your pains.  I say not that ’tis no sin; but there is no sin so great but God pardons it, if one repent.  Now tell