“But you good-for-nothing,” said Saint Peter, “how have you the face to demand entrance into the blessed Paradise, you who for the last twenty years have never said your prayers, who, when they said to you, ‘Jarjaye, come to Mass,’ answered ‘I only go to the afternoon Mass!’ thou, who in derision calledst the thunder, ‘the drum of the snails;’ thou did’st eat meat on Fridays, saying, ‘What does it matter, it is flesh that makes flesh, what goes into the body cannot hurt the soul;’ thou who, when they rang the Angelus, instead of making the sign of the cross like a good Christian, cried mocking, ‘A pig is hung on the bell’; thou who, when thy father admonished thee, ‘Jarjaye, God will surely punish thee,’ answered, ‘The good God, who has seen him? Once dead one is well dead.’ Finally, thou who didst blaspheme and deny the holy oil and baptism, is it possible that thou darest to present thyself here?” The unhappy Jarjaye replied: “I deny nothing, I am a sinner. But who could know that after death there would be so many mysteries! Any way, yes, I have sinned. The medicine is uncorked--if one must drink it, why one must. But at least, great Saint Peter, let me see my uncle for a little, just to give him the latest news from Tarascon.” “What uncle?” “My Uncle Matéry, he who was a White Penitent.” “Thy Uncle Matéry! He is undergoing a hundred years of purgatory!” “Malédiction! a hundred years! Why what had he done amiss?” “Thou rememberest that he carried the cross in the procession. One day some wicked jesters gave each other the word, and one of them said, ‘Look at Matéry, who is carrying the cross;’ and a little further another repeated, ‘Look at Matéry, who is carrying the cross,’ and at last another said like this, ‘Look, look at Matéry, what is he carrying?’ Matéry got angry, it appears, and answered, ‘A jackanapes like thee.’ And forthwith he had a stroke and died in his anger.” “Well then, let me see my Aunt Dorothée, who was very, very religious.” “Bah! she must be with the devil, I don’t know her.” “It does not astonish me in the least that she should be with the devil, for in spite of being so devout and religious, she was spiteful as a viper. Just imagine----” “Jarjaye, I have no leisure to listen to thee: I must go and open to a poor sweeper whose ass has just sent him to Paradise with a kick.” “Oh, great Saint Peter, since you have been so kind, and looking costs nothing, I beg you let me just peep into the Paradise which they say is so beautiful.” “I will consider it--presently, ugly Huguenot that thou art!” “Now come, Saint Peter, just remember that down there at Tarascon my father, who is a fisherman, carries your banner in the procession, and with bare feet----” “All right,” said the saint, “for your father’s sake I will allow it, but see here, scum of the earth, it is understood that you only put the end of your nose inside.” “That is enough.” Then the celestial porter half opening the door said to Jarjaye: