resisting a strong temptation to take off my
clothes and lie beside them. The only thing which prevented my yielding
to it was the fear that I might find the canon to be a fool, incapable of
playing the part with dignity. As for the Corticelli, she soon passed
from tears to laughter, and would have done it well, but if, as I feared,
the canon was a blockhead, I should have been degrading myself.

I felt certain that neither of them had guessed my thoughts, so I rose
and told the canon to put on his clothes.

"No one must hear anything more of this," said I, "but you and I will go
to a distance of two hundred paces and burn a little powder."

"No, no, sir," cried my gentleman, "you may take me where you like, and
kill me if you please, but I was not meant for a fighting man."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir, and I only became a priest to escape the fatal duty of
duelling."

"Then you are a coward, and will not object to a good thrashing?"

"Anything you like, but it would be cruelty, for my love blinded me. I
only came here a quarter of an hour ago, and the countess and her
governess were both asleep."

"You are a liar."

"I had only just taken off my shirt when you came, and I have never seen
this angel before."

"And that's gospel truth," said the Corticelli.

"Are you aware that you are a couple of impudent scoundrels? And as for
you, master canon, you deserve to be roasted like St. Laurence."

In the meanwhile the wretched ecclesiastic had huddled on his clothes.

"Follow me, sir," said I, in a tone which froze the marrow of his bones;
and I accordingly took him to my room.

"What will you do," said I, "if I forgive you and let you go without
putting you to shame?"

"I will leave in an hour and a half, and you shall never see me here
again; but even if we meet in the future, you will find me always ready
to do you a service."

"Very good. Begone, and in the future take more precautions in your
amorous adventures."

After this I went to bed, well pleased with what I had seen and what I
had done, for I now had complete power over the Corticelli.

In the morning I called on her as soon as I got up, and told her to pack
up her things, forbidding her to leave her room till she got into the
carriage.

"I shall say I am ill."

"Just as you please, but nobody will take any notice of you."

I did not wait for her to make any further objections, but proceeded to
tell the tale of what had passed to Madame d'Urf