"Humgumnibus quintessentialiter expositu dum dum; benedictus sint foolatii et sanctissimus fourbi. Hi sty Aubergisti rorum coram nobis excipe capones poulardici generi, fur grataverunt pectus, legbonibus venzon in secula seculorum sanctissimus benedictus," said the Norman. "Amen!" cried the innkeeper from the bottom of his heart, with such fervency that the Père Alexis could scarcely maintain his gravity. The Norman now proceeded to business, and putting down his ear to a level with the lips of Gaultier, he once more desired him to make a clear breast. "_Oh, mon Père_," cried Gaultier, "_Je suis un pauvre pécheur, un misérable!_" The good Father exhorted him to take courage, and to come to a detail of his crimes. "_Oh, mon Père_," cried he, "I have sold cats for rabbits, and more especially for hares. I have moistened an old hareskin with warm water and bloodied it with chicken's blood, to make my cats and my badgers and my weasels pass for what they really were not. I have cooked up snakes for eels, and dressed vipers _en matelot_. I have sold bad wine of Bois-marly for good wine of Epernay; and, _Oh, mon Père, je suis un pauvre pécheur_." "Well, well, get on," cried the Norman somewhat impatiently, "I'll give you absolution for all that. All innkeepers do the same. But what more have you done?" "_Oh, mon Père, je suis un pauvre pécheur_," proceeded Gaultier in a low voice; "I have charged my customers twice as much as I ought to charge. I have vowed that fish was dear when it was cheap; and I have--" "_Nom de Dieu!_" cried the Norman, getting out of temper with the recapitulation of Gaultier's peccadilloes. "_Nom de Dieu!_ that is to say, in the name of God, I absolve you from all such sins as are common to innkeepers, masters of taverns, cooks, _aubergistes_ and the like--sins of profession as they may be called--only appointing you to kneel before the altar of your parish church for two complete hours, repeating the Pater and the Ave during the whole time, by way of penance;" thought he, for making me hear all this nonsense.--"But come," he continued, "bring up the heavy artillery--that is, let me hear your more uncommon sins. You have some worse things upon your conscience than any you have told, or I am mistaken." "_Oh, mon Père! Oh, mon bon Père!_" groaned Gaultier, "_Je suis un pauvre pécheur, un misérable_." "Now it comes," thought the Norman; "_Allons, allons, mon fils, ayez courage! l'Eglise est pleine de miséricorde._" "There was an old owl in the barn," said Gaultier, "and woodcocks being scarce--"