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6.
He assured us all that God had deceived him and he wept. He swore like a crooked gambler that this was poor recompense for his prayers and his faith. He stamped his feet and he cursed like a mule driver who comes out of a gin mill and suddenly discovers that his mules had scattered to the four winds.
And suddenly Pascale, the professor, lost his temper. He demanded that I give him my knife and said to the monk who had sat down for a rest after his outburst of curses:
“Listen, in a minute I will slit your belly, and if I find there but one drop of wine or one atom of a pullet....”
“And if you don’t?” angrily retorted the monk.
“Then we shall count you among the saints. Hold his legs, Geronimo!”
The monk was frightened and departed mumbling:
“And I thought you were Christians! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!”
But the lunatic gazed after him benignly and spoke approvingly: