“Alas!” said the curé, “what have I done, and why have I to appear before the Bishop? I am much surprised at receiving this summons.”
“As for me,” said the sergeant, “I do not know what it is for, unless it is because you buried your dog in the holy ground which is reserved for the bodies of Christians.”
“Ah,” thought the curé to himself, “that must be it,” and it occurred to him that he had done wrong, but he knew that he could easily escape being put into prison, by paying a fine, for the Lord Bishop—God be praised—was the most avaricious prelate in the Kingdom, and only kept those about him who knew how to bring grist to the mill.
“At any rate I shall have to pay, and it may as well be soon as late.”
On the appointed day, he appeared before the Bishop, who immediately delivered a long sermon about the sin of burying a dog in consecrated ground, and enlarged on the offence so wonderfully that he made it appear that the curé had done something worse than deny God; and at the end he ordered the curé to be put in prison.
When the curé found that he was to be shut up in the stone box, he demanded permission to be heard, and the Bishop gave him leave to speak.
You must know that there were a number of notable persons at this convocation—the judge, the prosecutor, the secretaries, and notaries, advocates, and procureurs, who were all much amused at this unusual case of the poor curé who had buried his dog in consecrated ground.
The curé spoke briefly in his defence, to this effect.
“Truly, my Lord Bishop, if you had known my poor dog as well as I did, you would not be surprised that I gave him Christian burial, for his like was never seen;” and then he began to recount his doings.
“And as he was so good and wise when he was living, he was still more so at his death; for he made a beautiful will, and, as he knew your poverty and need, he left you fifty golden crowns, which I now bring you.”