Convict. And if any one comes?
Bishop. No one will come, but if they do, are you not my friend?
Convict. Your friend? (puzzled)
Bishop. They will not molest the Bishop's friend.
Convict. The Bishop's friend, (scratching his head utterly puzzled)
Bishop. I will get the coverings. (Exit l.)
Convict. (looks after him, scratches his head) The Bishop's friend! (he goes to fire to warm himself and notices the candlesticks. He looks round to see if he is alone and takes them down, weighing them.) Silver, by God, and heavy. What a prize! (he hears the Bishop coming and in his haste drops one candlestick on the table)
(Enter the Bishop)
Bishop (sees what is going on but goes to the settle up l. with coverings) Ah, you are admiring my candlesticks. I am proud of them. They were a gift from my mother. A little too handsome for this poor cottage perhaps, but all I have to remind me of her. Your bed is ready. Will you lie down now?
Convict. Yes, yes, I'll lie down now. (puzzled) Look here, why the devil are you ki—kind—to me. (suspiciously) What do you want? Eh?
Bishop. I want you to have a good sleep, my friend.
Convict. I believe you want to convert me; save my soul, don't you call it? Well it's no good, see? I don't want any damned religion, and as for the Church, Bah! I hate the Church.
Bishop. That is a pity, my son, as the Church does not hate you.
Convict. You are going to try to convert me. Oh, Ha! ha! that's a good idea. Ha! ha! ha! No, no, Monseigneur the Bishop. I don't want any of your Faith, Hope and Charity, see? So anything you do for me you're doing to the devil, understand? (defiantly)
