Sergeant (saluting) Pardon, Monseigneur.
Bishop. And now I think you may let your prisoner go.
Sergeant. But he won't show me his papers, he won't tell me who he is.
Bishop. I have told you he is my friend.
Sergeant. Yes, that's all very well, but—
Bishop. He is your Bishop's friend, surely that is enough.
Sergeant. Well, but—
Bishop. Surely?
(A pause. The Sergeant and the Bishop look at each other.)
Sergeant. I—I—Humph! (to his men) Loose the prisoner (they do so) Right about turn, quick march! (Exit Sergeant and Gendarmes. A long pause.)
Convict (very slowly as if in a dream) You told them you had given me the candlesticks, given me them. By God!
Persomé (shaking her fist at him and hugging the candlesticks to her breast) Oh you scoundrel, you pitiful scoundrel, you come here and are fed, and warmed, and and you thieve; steal from your benefactor. Oh you blackguard.
Bishop. Persomé, you are overwrought. Go to your room.
Persomé. What, and leave you with him to be cheated again, perhaps murdered. No, I will not.
Bishop (with slight severity) Persomé, leave us, I wish it.
(She looks hard at him, then turns towards her door.)
Persomé. Well, if I must go at least I'll take the candlesticks with me.
Bishop (more severely) Persomé, place the candlesticks on that table and leave us.
Persomé (defiantly) I will not!
