“What would you require of me? Tell me.”
The priest, in a firm tone replied:
“I must have an extraordinary token of your good intentions.”
“I do not say—I do not say; perhaps we might come to an understanding,” faltered Sabot.
“You will have to take communion publicly at high mass next Sunday,” declared the cure.
The carpenter felt he was growing pale, and without replying, he asked:
“And the benches, are they going to be renovated?”
The abbe replied with confidence:
“Yes, but later on.”
Sabot resumed: