Paul Flida.
Then there is great danger.
Sira Viliam.
Master Sigard of Brabant has said that he cannot outlive the night.
Paul Flida.
Then meseems he has summoned us too late.
Sira Viliam.
Nay, nay,—he has his full senses and some strength to boot; every moment he asks if the Earl comes not soon.
Paul Flida.
You still call him Earl; know you not that the King has granted him the title of Duke?
Sira Viliam.
Ay, ay, we know it; 'tis but old custom. Hist!
[He and Paul Flida cross themselves and bow their heads. From the Bishop's door issue two acolytes with candles, then two more with censers; then priests bearing chalice, paten, and crucifix, and a church banner; behind them a file of priests and monks; acolytes with candles and censers close the procession, which passes slowly into the chapel. The door is shut behind them.
Paul Flida.
So now the old lord has made up his account with the world.
