The next day at early morn Sir Gysbrecht made preparations as if he would celebrate mass taking the precious holy sacrament in his hand and set out with Emma his niece on the way to Cologne. And Moonen the devil followed them from afar but he dare not approach nigh nor draw near to Emma in any wise on account o£ the power of the holy sacrament. Nevertheless he threw sometimes the half of an oak tree or another from above at them, minded to break both their necks, but our Lord would not allow it for she used daily to read a prayer in honor of our Blessed Lady. Thus they traveled so long and much that they came to Cologne where she confessed to the Bishop. But there no man knew what counsel to give her for her sin was so against kind and great that the Bishop had not power to absolve her. ¶ How Emma and her Uncle journeyed to Rome and how Emma confessed her to the Pope. After this Emma and her eme departed them from the Bishop and leaving Cologne journeyed to Rome, where they be come after much travail and journeying. And Emma has made confession to the Pope with weeping eyes, saying: O God’s vice-gerent, yea, God on earth, as we be told, A sinner worse than I earth doth not hold; Shut out from the bar of Heaven I be. THE POPE Wherefore, my child? EMMA The devil’s amie I have been yea more than seven year And with him have wandered far or near Even at our will, and know ye for truth Whatso man and wife do we have done in sooth. Now say ye not that to fear me I do well? THE POPE What, child, and was it the fiend out of hell? And wist ye that, when ye together went, The fiend he was? EMMA Yea, father reverent. THE POPE How could ye with the fiend have ado If ye wist ’twas he? EMMA Father, ’twas merry days for us two, And the broad gold and all the rich fare The which he gave me, be ye well ware ’Twas these tempted me, wherefore I am now shamed. There was nought in the whole world that I named He did not give it me straight even as I willed. But this with the sorrow whereof I now most am filled, And the which hath my heart cleft clean in twain, ’Tis that so many folk were slain Whithersoever we be come in our way. More than two hundred, reverend father, I say, Be for my sake miserably dead, One time or another. THE POPE Almighty Godhead! For such misdeeds ye may well live in sorrow. EMMA O father, if it may be, be to me borrow And give me penance or ere we part, I reck not how heavy. THE POPE