"You fool!" cried Father Donay, in a rage, "the cases are not parallel: your allusion is blasphemous. Let me hear no more of it, I pray." Franz walked on, silent and astounded, doubting which of them were the wickeder man. "The Sandwirth," resumed he, at length, with a choke in his voice, "has never done me a wrong--on the contrary, nothing but good. It is only Theresa--" "Ah, if you can put up with that girl's scorn, you can put up with anything," said Father Donay contemptuously. "I _can't_ put up with it, and won't!" cried Franz; "but it's making her pay pretty dearly, too, if her father gets shot." "Don't be such a dolt as to suppose it," said Father Donay pacifyingly; "the worst he and she will get is a good fright. He will be tried by court-martial; probably acquitted, or reprimanded, or sentenced to a short imprisonment, from which, at Austria's intercession, he will be released." "If I were sure of that--" said Franz, hesitating. "Why, don't you know I speak with authority? You know my credentials pretty well," said Father Donay. "I have all but told you who empowers me--" "And you have promised me absolution, if any unforeseen evil comes of it--" said Franz, still uneasily. "How should I do otherwise, my son? I will promise it twenty times, if that will make it any stronger." "No, no--of course it will not. Well, then, I'll think about it, father: and--" "And, if somebody else should do it while you are only thinking about it, he'll get the reward instead of you." "That won't suit me at all!" cried Franz. "Why, if I make up my mind to do an ill turn, I may as well do it as not; the sin--that is, the--whatever it is, will be the same--" "The intention, but not the reward," said Father Donay. "Heaven notes our intentions; man only notes works." "I wish I were fairly out of _this_ work," exclaimed Franz. "If Theresa, now, were to come across me at this moment, she might overcome me with a straw!" "Truly, I believe you!" said Father Donay, with ineffable scorn; "and men of straw, or men knocked down by straws, are not the men _we pay_." "Ah!" cried Franz, grinding his teeth, "if you were not a priest, I should think some evil spirit was within you." "And I, without any if," coolly replied Donay, "think an evil spirit _is_ within you--the spirit of irresolution. Come! no more of this child's play. Are you going to throw away a cup of good milk because there's a cow-hair in it?" "Not I," cried Franz recklessly. "Nothing venture, nothing have. Give me a fortnight, and I'll hunt him up. When I was keeping the herds up the mountains this summer, I made myself pretty well acquainted with all the nooks and corners of 'em; and I guess the man we are after to be in a certain châlet in a certain spot that I chanced upon one day, when I was seeking for cream o' the moon." "Cream o' the moon, indeed!" repeated Father Donay, ironically. "Well--if you find him, and enable us to find him, that will be better than moonshine."