priest he would kill
him, if he did not listen to his confession.

The priest, being afraid of a knife in such dangerous hands, did not
know what to do, so he asked the other,

"What is is you want?"

"I wish to confess," said he.

"Very well; I will hear you," said the priest. "Come here."

Our drunkard,--being more tipsy than a thrush in a vineyard,--began, so
please you, his devout confession,--over which I pass, for the priest
never revealed it, but you may guess it was both novel and curious.

The priest cut short the wearisome utterances of the drunkard, and gave
him absolution, and, to get rid of him, said;

"Go away now; you have made a good confession."

"Say you so, sir?" he replied.

"Yes, truly," said the priest, "it was a very good confession. Go, and
sin no more!"

"Then, since I have well confessed and received absolution, if I were to
die now, should I go to paradise?" asked the drunkard.

"Straight! Straight!" replied the priest. "There can be no doubt about
it."

"Since that is so," said the drunkard, "and I am now in a holy state, I
would like to die at once, in order that I may go to heaven."

With that he took and gave his knife to the priest, begging of him to
cut off his head, in order that he might go to paradise.

"Oh, no!" said the priest, much astonished. "It is not my business to do
that--you must go to heaven by some other means."

"No," replied the drunkard, "I wish to go there now, and to die here by
your hands. Come, and kill me."

"I will not do that," said the prior. "A priest must not kill any one."

"You shall I swear; and if you do not at once despatch me and send me
to heaven I will kill you with my own hands," and at these words
he brandished his big knife before the eyes of the priest, who was
terrified and alarmed.

At last, having thought the matter over,--that he might get rid of this
drunkard, who was becoming more and more aggressive, and perchance might
have taken his life, he seized the knife, and said;

"Well! since you wish to die by my hands in order that you may go to
paradise,--kneel down before me."

The words were hardly uttered before the drunkard fell flat, and with
some trouble raised himself to his knees, and with his hands joined
together, awaited the blow of the sword which was to kill him.

The priest gave the drunkard a heavy blew with the back of the knife,
which felled him to the ground, where he lay, and would not get up,
believ