The fact was that the Blasler boy must have stolen the trout to begin with, before he sold them for the first time, for Blasler had no fishing licence. This, I dare say, hardly occurred to the good priest's mind: he was thinking only of his fast-days. The commandments of the Church allow fish on Fridays and Saturdays,[12] but do not say whether the fish may be stolen or not. It was not a favourable opportunity to confess one's sins. So I forbore for the present, kissed the sleeve of his coat, because the clenched fist did not look inviting for a kiss of the hand, and passed on. On the way, I pondered the question at length, which was the greater sin, the Blasler boy's or mine. His appeared to me in the light of a piece of roguery, whereas mine might easily be a sin against the Holy Ghost; and those sins are not remitted. A few days later, Cap Casimir, of Kressbachgraben, was driving a grey nanny-goat with two kids along the road. The old goat had a full udder; and the young ones skipped around her and wanted to have a drink. But Cap Casimir hissed, in his sloppy brogue: "Sshh, shtop that now! We musht bring the full udder to hish reverensh!" I was at once curious to know what it meant; and Casimir, who was an immigrant Tyrolese and still wore his pointed "star-pricker,"[13] said: "It'sh like thish, you shee, my wife'sh dead. 'The goat,' said she, 'and the kidsh,' said she, 'I leave to the parish-priesht of Kathrein. For prayers and masshes.' That was her will; and then she died. Sho now I'm driving the animalsh to the reverend gentleman'sh." "All right," thought I to myself. "And I'll follow in an hour's time. He'll be in a good humour to-day; and I shall never find a better opportunity." So far, the thing was well thought out. I went off that same afternoon. The old gentleman was quite jolly and invited me to have a cup of coffee with him, telling me that there was fresh milk in it from Kressbachgraben. And it was in the midst of the coffee that I suddenly said: "I've had something on my mind for ever so long, your reverence!" "You, something on your mind?" he laughed. "Well, that's a nice state of affairs, when even little boys have things on their minds!" I stirred my cup of coffee vigorously with my spoon, so as not to have to look his reverence in the face, and told him the story of the game of cards on the altar. Contrary to all my expectations, the priest remained quite calm. Then he asked: "Did you do it wilfully? Did you intend to mock the holy altar?" "Good God, no, your reverence!" I replied, thoroughly shocked at the mere thought. "Very well," said the old man. Then he was silent for a little while and finished his coffee, after which he spoke as follows: