"Inprinis," quoth the abbot, proud of the one Latin word he thought he
knew, but, that, as we see, was an error; "they cannot speak so as to
be understood, and I fear me much they incline to mere carnal
learning."

Here there was a sanctified groan:

"Count William himself spoke to me in Latin!" continued the abbot,
raising his eyebrows.

"Did he?--Wonderful!" exclaimed several voices. "And what did you
answer, holy father?"

"Marry," said the abbot solemnly, "I replied, Inprinis."

"Good!" said the young monk, with a look of profound admiration.

"Whereat the good Count looked puzzled--as I meant him to be:--a
heinous fault, and one intolerant to the clergy, that love of profane
tongues! And the next thing against your Norman is (added the abbot,
with a sly wink), that he is a close man, who loves not his stoup;
now, I say, that a priest never has more hold over a sinner than when
he makes the sinner open his heart to him."

"That's clear!" said a fat priest, with a lubricate and shining nose.

"And how," pursued the abbot triumphantly, "can a sinner open his
heavy heart until you have given him something to lighten it? Oh,
many and many a wretched man have I comforted spiritually over a
flagon of stout ale; and many a good legacy to the Church hath come