“Peace, my son,” I hiccoughed, with an assumption of drunken gravity, uplifting my disengaged arm as if in priestly benediction of the impious crew.  “Tempt me not to turn aside from the solemn path of duty by offerings of that foul fiend which doth so corrupt and despoil men.  Know you, I am now on my way to perform the sweet offices of our most holy religion, and need greatly to permit my mind to dwell in peace upon more soulful things than that which lieth in the wine pot.  You are mere beasts of the field, sons of Belial, children of wrath, every one of you, doomed to death, even as it is written, ’He that taketh the sword shall perish by the sword.’  Laugh, will you, you drunken scum of the sea!” I shouted, glaring about savagely on the grimacing faces.  “’T is truth out of Holy Writ I speak, but I waste the precious word in such company—­’t is casting pearls before swine—­for there be none here who comprehend the things of the Spirit.”

“The spirit say you, padre?” interrupted the officer, evidently in rare good humor. “Bastinade! thou doest wrong to all this worshipful company by so grievous a slur.  The spirit we know right well, although I confess thou art ever a full bottle in advance of the most of us.”

I cast upon him a withering glance of scorn as rebuke to his unseemly levity, venturing to lurch a step nearer.

“Hush such vain and impious speech, thou man of war,” I commanded thickly, indignation apparent even through my drunkenness.  “Thou makest mock of the sacred teachings of Holy Church, and art from henceforth accursed by virtue of my office.  I pause here, holding converse no longer with such mocking tongue, nor linger in presence of this blasphemous crew.  There resteth upon me the eternal destiny of a human, unshriven soul, and I bid thee permit my passage; ’t is the final night of earth for some upon this ship, and I have until now neglected to perform my priestly duty with one of the condemned.  ’T is upon this holy mission I would pass thee now.”

“I truly think, padre,” exclaimed one of the group, with a careless laugh, “if you had another drink of red wine beneath your cassock you could never tell a prayer from a song; so for the sake of those poor devils yonder we ought to pass you this time without demanding toll.”

“To whom do you go at such unseemly hour with ghostly consolations?” inquired the Commandant, negligently rolling a cigarette between his long fingers, and resting back his head in supreme content.

“I give absolution unto De Noyan.”  In spite of my utmost endeavors my voice trembled mentioning the name.  I watched the fellow’s face narrowly, yet read nothing save reckless indifference.

“Ah! the gay Chevalier.  Faith, I doubt not he hath grave need of thee and thy paternosters ere he find peace.  Yet surely, padre, ’twas with him you were this very afternoon, while I was on guard before.  I marvel greatly he should care for your company so much.  Saints, he seems scarcely of the kidney to take kindly to so many prayers.”