As
they proceeded they bowed their heads as if confessing
their fault and as though about to receive
punishment.
Arriving at the convent, they entered the
courtyard in exact order, one behind the other,
and there awaited the coming of the abbess. All
night they stood thus without making a sound, as
if struck dumb by their guilty consciences. But
when morning came, they uttered the most pitiful
cries as though asking pardon and permission to
depart.
Then the lady abbess, taking compassion on
the repentant birds, appeared with some nuns
upon a balcony. Long she talked to the geese,
asking them why they had stolen the convent
grain. She threatened them with a long fast, and
then, softening, began to offer them pardon if
they would never again attack her lands, nor eat
her corn. To which the geese bowed their heads
low in assent. Then the abbess gave them her
blessing and permission to depart.
Hardly had she done so when the geese, spreading
their wings, made a joyous circle above the
convent towers, and flew away. Alighting at some
distance they counted their number and found
one missing. For, alas! in the night, when they
had been shut in the courtyard, the convent cook,
seeing how fat they were, had stolen one bird and
had killed, roasted, and eaten it.
When the birds discovered that one of their
number was missing, they again took wing and,
hovering over the convent, they uttered mournful
cries, complaining of the loss of their comrade,
and imploring the abbess to return him to the
flock.
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