“Yes, sir, and I only became a priest to escape the fatal duty of duelling.”
“Then you are a coward, and will not object to a good thrashing?”
“Anything you like, but it would be cruelty, for my love blinded me. I only came here a quarter of an hour ago, and the countess and her governess were both asleep.”
“You are a liar.”
“I had only just taken off my shirt when you came, and I have never seen this angel before.”
“And that’s gospel truth,” said the Corticelli.
“Are you aware that you are a couple of impudent scoundrels? And as for you, master canon, you deserve to be roasted like St. Laurence.”
In the meanwhile the wretched ecclesiastic had huddled on his clothes.
“Follow me, sir,” said I, in a tone which froze the marrow of his bones; and I accordingly took him to my room.
“What will you do,” said I, “if I forgive you and let you go without putting you to shame?”