“Oh! you arrange that as you can. I have always heard, that he who finds himself well off, had better stay. I am here—so I stay.”
Saint Peter frowned and stamped. He went to find St. Yves.
“Yves,” he said, “You are a barrister—you must give me an opinion.”
“Two if you like,” replied Saint Yves.
“I am in a nice fix! This is my dilemma,” and he related all. “Now what ought I to do?”
“You require,” said Saint Yves, “a good solicitor, and must then cite by bailiff the said Jarjaye to appear before God.”
They went to look for a good solicitor, but no one had ever seen such a person in Paradise. They asked for a bailiff—still more impossible to find. Saint Peter was at his wits’ end.
Just then Saint Luke passed by.
“Peter, you look very melancholy! Has our Lord been giving you another rebuke?”
“Oh, my dear fellow, don’t talk of it—I am in the devil of a fix, do you see. A certain Jarjaye has got into Paradise by a trick, and I don’t know how to get him out.”