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Unformatted text preview: e cleverness of mimicry, and singing, but no true capacity to be serious or firm." "Oh, but that is not so," I said. "Before God, I am the living proof." "No," said my sister, "you are a good follower of St. Francis, a mendicant and a saint, because you are a simpleton, a fool. That's all St. Francis ever was-God's idiot, walking about barefoot preaching goodness, not knowing a word of theology really, and having his fol- lowers give away all they possessed. It was the perfect place to send you-the Italy of the Franciscans. You have the addled brain of the Taltos, who would play and sing and dance the livelong day and breed others for playing and singing and dancing . . ." "I am a celibate," I said. "I am consecrated to God. I know nothing of such things." I was cut so deep it was a miracle the words would come from me. I was wounded. "I am not such a creature. How dare you?" I whispered, but then I bowed my head in humility. "Francis, help me now," I prayed. "I know this whole story," declared the Dutchman,...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10