The Blessed Sul De Montaigne

The prior was on his feet, as sober as could be, but apparently infinitely surprised and perplexed at what he saw and heard. He cogitated, and then he diffidently asked, and were it not too presumptive, might i ask if your saintship knows the blessed oswald? Not i, nor yet the holy sul de montaigne, he queried with a sigh, once head of these halds and cells. Never heard of him in my life, nor yet of grindal or gerard of beer, or the saintly anselm, my predecessor in that chair you fill groaned the jolly confessor. I tell you, priest, i know