“Be off with you!”
“I want to see the curé.”
“For what purpose?”
“To make my confession.”
“The curé can’t be seen just now.”
“The senior vicaire, then.”
“Nor he either. Now off you go.”
“The second vicaire, the third vicaire, the fourth vicaire, the youngest vicaire.”
“Be off with you.”
“Ah, then! would you let me die unshriven? It’s worse than it was in '93, it seems!... Any little vicaire. How will it hurt you if I make my confession to some little vicaire not any taller than my arm? Take word to some priest that he must come to hear my confession. I’ll undertake to disclose to him a batch of sins rarer, more extraordinary, more interesting, you may take my word for it, than all those his chattering women penitents can trot out before him. You can tell him that he is wanted for a really fine confession.”