You gave your heart to a woman, and worshipped at her feet, and behold there has come upon you the guilt of blood.

Not, you would protest, through your own fault; your friend was false to you, and in just wrath you slew him.

Who made you, O Basil, his judge and his executioner ?' 'Father, I seek not to excuse my sin.' 'It is well.

And what penance will you lay upon yourself ?' Utterly subdued by awe, oblivious of his own will in the presence of one so much more powerful, Basil murmured that whatever penance the man of God saw fit to impose that would he perform.
'Nay,' said Benedict gently, 'that is too like presumption.

Say rather, you would endeavour to perform it.