Or, if he were
more exasperated, he would say: 'Out of the Pope's country!' and send
for a few carabineers; they would take one to a cart and drive one to
the frontier; there, there were fresh carabineers, who took one farther
--and all without trial, or any enquiry. Often the accusation was false.
But we were ruled by spies, and all their power was based on the
confessional, which is nothing but spying. Shortly before Easter, a
priest came and counted how many there were in the house. If afterwards
there were one who did not go to mass, then his name was stuck up on the
church door as an infidel, in disgrace. It is many years now since I
have been to any confessor. When I die, I shall say: 'God, forgive me my
sins and my mistakes,' and shall die in peace without any priest."
Whatever we talk about, Maria always comes back to her hatred of the
priests. The other day, we were speaking of the annoyance I had been
subjected to by a compatriot of mine, K.B., who came to see me, but
looked more particularly at a large _fiasco_ I had standing there,
containing four bottles of Chianti. He tasted the wine, which was very
inferior, declared it 'nice,' and began to drink, ten glasses straight
off. At first he was very polite to me, and explained that it was
impossible to spend a morning in a more delightful manner than by
visiting the Sistine Chapel first, and me in my sick-room afterwards,
but by degrees he became ruder and ruder, and as his drunkenness
increased I sank in his estimation.
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