The priest would not listen to him, and made wonderful efforts to
escape, but it was no good, for the other was obstinate in his desire to
confess, which the priest would not hear.

The devotion of the drunkard increased more and more, and when he saw
that the priest still refused to hear his sins, he put his hand on his
big knife and drew it from its sheath, and told the 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.