“No,” I replied, “they will then only absolve you.”
“Then I recant,” said she; “only tell me what it is I have to recant; for I know nothing of it, as I hope for mercy.”
“Bless me,” replied I; “is it possible you should be so dull? the irreverence was so great I hardly know how to express it. Wretch as you are, did you not call the chickens, Pio, Pio; and Pius is the name of several Popes, who are Christ’s vicars upon earth, and heads of the church. Now do you consider whether that be any trifling sin?”
She stood as if she had been thunderstruck, and after a while cried: “’Tis true, I said so, Paul; but may I be burnt if I did it with any ill design. I recant—I do, indeed; and try to find some way not to inform of me; for I shall die if they get me into the Inquisition.”
“Provided you take your oath on the holy altar that you meant it not for blasphemy; but then you must give me the two chickens you called in that unsanctified way, by the names of the Popes, that they may be burnt by the officers of the Inquisition. This you must do now, or I shall otherwise be compelled to lay an information against you as quick as possible.”
She was glad to escape so easily, and instantly consented, giving me three instead of two, which I took to a neighbouring cook, had them dressed, and ate with my companions. Don Diego came to hear of the trick, and made excellent sport of it in the family. The old woman had nearly fretted herself to death for mere vexation, and was a thousand times in the mind of taking revenge, and discovering all my schemes. She was, however, too deeply implicated; and having once quarrelled with me, there was no end to the tricks I played her. In short, I became a great authority in all that the scholars called snatching and shop-lifting, at which I had many pleasant adventures.
One evening, about nine o’clock, as I was passing through the great street, I spied a confectioner’s shop open, and in it a frail of raisins upon the counter. I whipped in, took hold of it, and set a-running; the confectioner scoured after me, and so did several neighbours and servants. Being loaded, I perceived that, though I had the start, they would overtake me, and so, turning the corner of a street, I clapped the frail upon the ground and sat down upon it, and wrapping my cloak about my leg, began to cry out, “God forgive him, he has trod upon me and crippled me.” When they came up I began to cry, “For God’s sake, pity the lame; I pray God you may never be lame!”
“‘FRIEND,’ THEY EXCLAIMED, ‘DID YOU SEE A MAN RUN THIS WAY?’”
“Friend!” they exclaimed, “did you see a man run this way?”