“Go away now; you have made a good confession.”
“Say you so, sir?” he replied.
“Yes, truly,” said the priest, “it was a very good confession. Go, and sin no more!”
“Then, since I have well confessed and received absolution, if I were to die now, should I go to paradise?” asked the drunkard.
“Straight! Straight!” replied the priest. “There can be no doubt about it.”
“Since that is so,” said the drunkard, “and I am now in a holy state, I would like to die at once, in order that I may go to heaven.”
With that he took and gave his knife to the priest, begging of him to cut off his head, in order that he might go to paradise.
“Oh, no!” said the priest, much astonished. “It is not my business to do that—you must go to heaven by some other means.”
“No,” replied the drunkard, “I wish to go there now, and to die here by your hands. Come, and kill me.”
“I will not do that,” said the prior. “A priest must not kill any one.”