"I am greatly perplexed. Is it right to perfect so miraculous a machine
by human and natural means?"

"Father, if you lost your right foot and God restored it to you, would
not that foot be miraculous?"

"Without doubt, my son."

"Would you put a shoe on it?"

"Assuredly."

"Well, then, if you believe that one may cover a miraculous foot with a
natural shoe, you should also believe that we can put natural rigging
on a miraculous boat. That is clear. Alas! Why must the holiest persons
have their moments of weakness and despondency? The most illustrious of
the apostles of Brittany could accomplish works worthy of eternal glory
. . . But his spirit is tardy and his hand is slothful. Farewell then,
father! Travel by short and slow stages and when at last you approach
the coast of Hoedic you will see the smoking ruins of the chapel that
was built and consecrated by your own hands. The pagans will have burned
it and with it the deacon you left there. He will be as thoroughly
roasted as a black pudding."

"My trouble is extreme," said the servant of God, drying with his sleeve
the sweat that gathered upon his brow. "But tell me, Samson, my son,
would not rigging this stone trough be a difficult piece of work? And if
we undertook it might we not lose time instead of gaining it?"