Books were open before us, but we spoke oftener of love than philosophy, and kisses came more readily from our lips than words." And so, exulting over an honorable confidence which to his degraded instinct was a ludicrous "simplicity," this unmanly Abelard seduced the niece of the man whose guest he was.

Paris found it out.

Fulbert was told of it--told often--but refused to believe it.

He could not comprehend how a man could be so depraved as to use the sacred protection and security of hospitality as a means for the commission of such a crime as that.

But when he heard the rowdies in the streets singing the love-songs of Abelard to Heloise, the case was too plain--love-songs come not properly within the teachings of rhetoric and philosophy.
He drove Abelard from his house.