Fra Domenico, you shall confess me after sunset." "You need me not," answered the monk, in disdainful wrath.

"There is a beatitude for such as you--'Blessed are the poor in spirit.'" "And is there no curse for such as you ?" flashed back the fool.

"Does it say nowhere--'Damned are the gross of flesh, the fat and rotund gluttons who fashion themselves a god of their own bellies' ?" With his sandalled foot the friar caught the fool a surreptitious kick.
"Be still, you adder, you bag of venom." Fearing worse, the fool gathered himself up.
"Beware!" he cried shrilly.

"Bethink you, friar, that anger is a cardinal sin.

Beware, I say!" Fra Domenico checked his upraised hand, and fell to muttering scraps of Latin, his lids veiling his suddenly down-cast eyes.