They know it's wrong but as soon as they have an opportunity to view these images or chat with their cyberlover again, they grab it.

“Now,” he cried, “what does it feel like to know you're the son of this whoresome monk and the village harlot?” I watched Bruno's face. It was as white as the marble face of the jeweled Madonna. He did not speak.

He does not precisely indicate how one distinguishes the fanatic from the nonfanatic.

People who would not have dared to foot the place before crept in and did not come to the house.