Tertullian, On the Veiling of Virgins 15

True, whole, and pure virginity fears nothing more than itself. It refuses to endure even the eyes of other women; it keeps its own eyes for itself. It takes refuge in a head-veil as if it were a helmet, a shield to protect its good against the blows of temptation, the darts of scandal, against suspicions, whispers, envy, and sheer malice. There is even something to fear among the pagans — what they call the *fascinum*, the wretched fallout of praise and outsized glory. We sometimes read this as the devil's work, for he is the hatred of the good; sometimes we ascribe it to God, for he is the judgment on pride, exalting the humble and humbling the proud. The holier virgin will therefore fear, whether you call it *fascinum* or not, both the adversary on one side and God on the other: the one's envious nature, the other's censorial light. She will rejoice in being known to herself alone and to God. Yet even if she becomes known to someone, she acts wisely if she has blocked the path to temptation. Who would dare press his eyes upon a closed face, a face that feels nothing, a face — to put it bluntly — that looks sad? Any evil thought will be shattered by her very severity. She even ceases to count as a woman, the one who hides her virginity.