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Persomé.

Very well, brother. (she sits down at table staring at the two)

Bishop.

Here is some cold pie and a bottle of wine and some bread.

Convict.

Put them on the table, and stand below it so that I can see you.

(Bishop does so and opens drawer in table taking out knife and fork, looking at the knife in Convict's hand).

Convict.

My knife is sharp. (he runs his finger along the edge and looks at them meaningly) And as for forks (taking it up) Faugh! steel (he throws it away) We don't use forks in Prison.

Persomé.

Prison?

Convict.

(cutting off an enormous slice, which he tears with his fingers like an animal. Then starts) What was that? (he looks at the door) Why the devil do you leave the window unshuttered and the door unbarred so that anyone can come in. (shutting them)

Bishop.

That is why they are left open.

Convict.

Well they are shut now!

Bishop.

(sighs) For the first time in thirty years.

(Convict eats voraciously and throws a bone on the floor.)

Persomé.

Oh, my nice clean floor!

(Bishop picks up the bone and puts it on plate.)

Convict.

You're not afraid of thieves?

Bishop.

I am sorry for them.

Convict.

Sorry for them. Ha! ha! ha! (drinks from bottle) That's a good one. Sorry for them. Ha! ha! ha! (drinks) (suddenly) What the devil are you?

Bishop.

I am a Bishop.

Convict.

Ha! ha! ha! A Bishop. Holy Virgin, a Bishop. Well I'm damned!

Bishop.

I hope you may escape that, my son. Persomé, you may leave us, this gentleman will excuse you.