And as soon as she
learned that it was the bishop who had forbidden it, she
acquiesced so devoutly and obediently that I myself marveled how
readily she could bring herself to turn critic of her own customs,
rather than question his prohibition. For winebibbing had not
taken possession of her spirit, nor did the love of wine stimulate
her to hate the truth, as it does too many, both male and female,
who turn as sick at a hymn to sobriety as drunkards do at a
draught of water. When she had brought her basket with the
festive gifts, which she would taste first herself and give the
rest away, she would never allow herself more than one little cup
of wine, diluted according to her own temperate palate, which she
would taste out of courtesy. And, if there were many oratories of
departed saints that ought to be honored in the same way, she
still carried around with her the same little cup, to be used
everywhere. This became not only very much watered but also quite
tepid with carrying it about. She would distribute it by small
sips to those around, for she sought to stimulate their devotion,
not pleasure.
But as soon as she found that this custom was forbidden by
that famous preacher and most pious prelate, even to those who
would use it in moderation, lest thereby it might be an occasion
of gluttony for those who were already drunken (and also because
these funereal memorials were very much like some of the
superstitious practices of the pagans), she most willingly
abstained from it.
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