"A pretty and a sweet persuasion," exclaimed the priest, laughing heartily; "but, my dear son, I am not so easily killed, even if such parricidal thoughts were anything more than a jest. You know not what a tough morsel an old priest is: hard of mastication for even stronger teeth than yours. Nay, nay, think of tenderer food! In other terms, ask me pleasantly and civilly, my good son, and you may then chance to receive an answer. If you were to kill me forty times over it would do you no good. My secrets are like the goose's golden eggs: not to be got at by slaughter."
"There is something that you want, priest," replied the marquis, in the same abrupt tone. "Quick! tell me what it is; if it be anything in reason, you shall have it."
The priest smiled with a meaning look, but thought for a moment or two before he replied; for, to say the truth, he had not, in his own mind, fixed upon that which he was to demand as his recompense. He had, it is true, an object in view, and the chief means of attaining that object was to persuade the Marquis of Masseran that he dealt with him truly and sincerely. Now he well knew that the mind of the worthy lord was so constituted that it could by no means be brought to conceive that any man dealt honestly with another, unless he had some personal object to gain by so doing, and, therefore, the priest determined to assign such an object, although he was, in reality, without one. "Well," he said, "well, you shall promise me, most solemnly, first, not to tell any one what I reveal to you; and also, if you find that what I tell you is true, and if the way that I point out to you prove successful, you shall give the priest of the church of Saint John of Bonvoison a fat buck in August every year when he chooses to send for it; you shall also give him a barrel of wine of your best vintage, and five silver pieces for alms to the poor, and this in perpetuity."
"Fy, now, fy!" replied the Lord of Masseran; "for your own life were quite enough; but in perpetuity, that is more than I can engage for: it is owning your vassalage, good father."
"It must be even so, though," replied the priest, "or you have not my secret. I care not for venison, sinner that I am, it is the good of the Church I think of."