We are ruin'd and undone, my child, said the abbess to Margarita,—we shall be here all night—we shall be plunder'd—we shall be ravished—
—We shall be ravish'd, said Margarita, as sure as a gun.
Sancta Maria! cried the abbess (forgetting the O!)—why was I govern'd by this wicked stiff joint? why did I leave the convent of Andouillets? and why didst thou not suffer thy servant to go unpolluted to her tomb?
O my finger! my finger! cried the novice, catching fire at the word servant—why was I not content to put it here, or there, any where rather than be in this strait?
Strait! said the abbess.
Strait—said the novice; for terror had struck their understandings—the one knew not what she said—the other what she answer'd.
O my virginity! virginity! cried the abbess.
...inity!...inity! said the novice, sobbing.