Arrived at the spot where Fra Mino stood rooted to the ground with
affright, they were no better than a crowd of horrid witches, bald and
bearded, nose and chin touching, and bosoms hanging loose and flabby.
They came crowding round him:

"Ah, ha! the pretty darling!" cried one. "He is as white as a sheet, and
his heart beats like a hare the dogs are snapping at. Ægle, sister mine,
say, what must be done with him?"

"Neæra mine!" Ægle replied, "why! we must open his breast, tear out his
heart and put a sponge in its place instead."

"Not so!" said Melibœa. "That were making him pay too dear for his
curiosity and the pleasure he has had in surprising our frolic. Enough
for this time to inflict a light chastisement. Say, shall we give him a
good whipping?"

Straightway surrounding the Monk, the sisters dragged his gown above his
head and belaboured him with the handfuls of thorns they still held.

The blood was beginning to come, when Neæra signed to them to stop:

"Enough!" she cried! "he is my gallant, I tell you! I saw him just now
casting tender eyes at me; I would content his wishes, and grant him my
favours without more delay."

She smiled alluringly; and a long, black tooth projecting from her mouth
tickled his nostril. She murmured softly:

"Come, come, my Adonis!"