turn you both out of the house into the night. I will have the man die in peace!"
Opening the door of the bedroom, the Curé went in and shut the door, bolting it quietly behind him. The Little Chemist sat by the bedside, and Kilquhanity lay as still as a babe upon the bed. His eyes were half closed, for the Little Chemist had given him an opiate to quiet the terrible pain.
The Curé saw that the end was near. He touched Kilquhanity’s arm: "My son," said he, "look up. You have sinned; you must confess your sins, and repent."
Kilquhanity looked up at him with dazed but half-smiling eyes. "Are they gone? Are the women gone?"
The Curé nodded his head. Kilquhanity’s eyes closed and opened again. "They’re gone, thin! Oh, the foine of it! the foine of it!" he whispered. "So quiet, so aisy, so quiet! Faith, I’ll just be shlaping! I’ll be shlaping now!"
His eyes closed, but the Curé touched his arm again. "My son," said he, "look up. Do you thoroughly and earnestly repent you of your sins?"
His eyes opened again. "Yis, father, oh yis. There’s been a dale o’ noise—there’s been a dale o’ noise in the wurruld, father," said he. "Oh, so quiet, so quiet now! I do be shlaping!"
A smile came upon his face. "Oh, the foine of it! I do be shlaping—shlaping."
And he fell into a noiseless Sleep.
