I showed him my heart oh, shame of my sex! He drew back; yet
he admired me; but innocently, He loved another; and he was constant. I
resorted to a woman's wiles, They availed not. I borrowed the wickedness
of men, and threatened his life, and to tell his true lover he died
false to her, Ah! you shrink your foot trembles. Am I not a monster?
Then he wept and prayed to me for mercy; then my good angel helped me; I
bade him leave Rome. Gerard, Gerard, why did you not obey me? I thought
he was gone. But two months after this I met him, Never shall I forget
it. I was descending the Tiber in my galley, when he came up it with a
gay company, and at his side a woman beautiful as an angel, but bold and
bad. That woman claimed me aloud for her rival. Traitor and hypocrite,
he had exposed me to her, and to all the loose tongues in Rome. In
terror and revenge I hired-a bravo. When he was gone on his bloody
errand, I wavered too late. The dagger I had hired struck, He never came
back to his lodgings. He was dead. Alas! perhaps he was not so much to
blame: none have ever cast his name in my teeth. His poor body is not
found: or I should kiss its wounds; and slay myself upon it. All around
his very name seems silent as the grave, to which this murderous hand
hath sent him." (Clement's eye was drawn by her movement. He recognized
her shapely arm, and soft white hand.) "And oh! he was so young to die.
A poor thoughtless boy, that had fallen a victim to that bad woman's
arts, and she had made him tell her everything. Monster of cruelty, what
penance can avail me? Oh, holy father, what shall I do?"

Clement's lips moved in prayer, but he was silent. He could not see his
duty clear.

Then she took his feet and began to dry them. She rested his foot
upon her soft arm, and pressed it with the towel so gently she seemed
incapable of hurting a fly. Yet her lips had just told another story,
and a true one.

While Clement was still praying for wisdom, a tear fell upon his foot.
It decided him. "My daughter," said he, "I myself have been a great
sinner."

"You, father?"

"I; quite as great a sinner as thou; though not in the same way. The
devil has gins and snares, as well as traps. But penitence softened my
impious heart, and then gratitude remoulded it. Therefore, seeing you
penitent, I hope you can be grateful to Him, who has been more merciful
to you than you have to your fellow-creature. Daughter, the Church sends
you comfort."

"Co