"My pulpit is an ale-house bench,
Whereon I sit so jolly;
A smiling rosy country wench
My saint and patron holy.
I kiss her cheek so red and sleek,
I press her ringlets wavy;
And in her willing ear I speak
A most religious ave.

"And if I'm blind, yet heaven is kind,
And holy saints forgiving;
For sure he leads a right good life
Who thus admires good living.
Above, they say, our flesh is air,
Our blood celestial ichor:
Oh, grant! mid all the changes there,
They may not change our liquor!"

And with this pious wish the holy confessor tumbled under the table in
an agony of devout drunkenness; whilst the knights, the men-at-arms, and
the wicked little pages, rang out the last verse with a most melodious
and emphatic glee. "I am sorry, fair uncle," hiccupped Sir Randal,
"that, in the matter of the ave, we could not oblige thee in a more
orthodox manner; but the holy father has failed, and there is not
another man in the hall who hath an idea of a prayer."

"It is my own fault," said Sir Rollo; "for I hanged the last confessor."
And he wished his nephew a surly good-night, as he prepared to quit the
room.

"Au revoir, gentlemen," said the devil Mercurius; and once more fixed
his tail round the neck of his disappointed companion.

The spirit of poor Rollo was sadly cast down; the devil, on the
contrary, was in high good humor. He wagged his tail with the most
satisfied air in the world, and cut a hundred jokes at the expense of
his poor associate. On they sped, cleaving swiftly through the cold
night winds, frightening the birds that were roosting in the woods, and
the owls that were watching in the towers.

In the twinkling of an eye, as it is known, devils can fly hundreds of
miles: so that almost the same beat of the clock which left these two in
Champagne, found them hovering over Paris. They dropped into the court
of the Lazarist Convent, and winded their way, through passage and
cloister, until they reached the door of the prior's cell.

Now the prior, Rollo's brother, was a wicked and malignant sorcerer; his
time was spent in conjuring devils and doing wicked deeds, instead of
fasting, scourging, and singing holy psalms: this Mercurius knew; and
he, therefore, was fully at ease as to the final result of his wager
with poor Sir Roger.

"You seem to be well acquainted with the road," said the knight