Very young he was, then; and the angry woman had seized him by his hair.
The Bishop did not really think the Prioress would do this; but it amused him to fancy he was afraid, and to put on his biretta.
Then, as he leaned back in his chair, and his finger tips met, the stone in his ring was blue again, and his eyes were more than ever the eyes of a merry schoolboy out on a holiday.
Yet, presently, he sought to calm the tempest he had raised.
"My daughter," he said, "I did but agree to that which you yourself suggested.

Did you not ask whether it would seem to me right or possible to grant absolution from her vows, tacitly to allow the opening of the cage door, that the little foolish bird might, if she wished it, escape?
Why this exceeding indignation, when I do but yield to your arguments and fall in with your suggestions ?" "I did not suggest that a lover's arms were awaiting one of my nuns," said the angry Prioress.
"You did not mention arms," replied the Bishop, gently; "but you most explicitly mentioned a voice.

'Supposing the voice of an earthly lover calls,' you said.

And--having admitted that I am better versed in such matters than you--you must forgive me, dear Prioress, if I amaze you further by acquainting you with the undoubted fact, recognised, in the outer world, as beyond dispute, that when a lover's _voice_ calls, a lover's _arms_ are likely to be waiting.

Earthly lovers, my daughter, by no means resemble those charming cherubs which you may have observed on the carved woodwork in our Cathedral.