8
THE BISHOP'S CANDLESTICKS.
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Mère Gringoire, I wonder she had the audacity to send here again. The last time I saw her I gave her such a talking to that it ought to have had some effect.
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| Bishop.
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Yes! I offered to take her in here for a day or two, but she seemed to think it might distress you.
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| Bishop.
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And the bailiff, who is a very just man, would not wait longer for the rent, so—so—you see I had to pay it.
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| Persomé.
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You had to pay it. (gesture of comic despair).
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| Bishop.
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Yes, and you see I had no money so I had to dispose of the salt cellars. It was fortunate I had them, wasn't it? (smiling) But, I'm sorry I have grieved you.
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| Persomé.
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Oh, go on! go on! you are incorrigible. You'll sell your candlesticks next.
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| Bishop
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(with real concern.) No, no, sister, not my candlesticks.
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| Persomé.
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Oh! Why not? They would pay somebody's rent I suppose.
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| Bishop.
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Ah, you are good, sister, to think of that, but, but I don't want to sell them. You see, dear, my mother gave them to me on—on her deathbed just after you were born, and—and she asked me to keep them in remembrance of her, so I would like to keep them, but perhaps it is a sin to set such store by them?
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| Persomé.
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Brother, brother, you will break my heart (with tears in her voice). There! don't say any thing more. Kiss me and give me your blessing. I'm going to bed. (they kiss)
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| Bishop
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(making sign of the cross and murmuring blessing)
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(Persomé locks cupboard door and going.)
| Persomé.
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Don't sit up too long and tire your eyes.
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