THE BISHOP'S CANDLESTICKS.
5
| Persomé.
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Sold! (with horror) sold! Are you mad? Who sold them? Why were they sold?
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| Marie.
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Monseigneur the Bishop told me this afternoon while you were out to take them to Monsieur Gervais who has often admired them, and sell them for as much as I could.
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| Persomé.
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But you had no right to do so without asking me.
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| Marie.
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But, Madam, Monseigneur the Bishop told me. (with awe)
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| Persomé.
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Monseigneur the Bishop is a—ahem! but, but what can he have wanted with the money!
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| Marie.
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Pardon, Madam, but I think it was for Mère Gringoire.
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| Persomé.
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Mère Gringoire indeed. Mère Gringoire! What, the old witch who lives at the top of the hill, and who says she is bedridden because she is too lazy to do any work? And what did Mère Gringoire want with the money, pray?
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| Marie.
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Madam, it was for the rent. The bailiff would not wait any longer and threatened to turn her out to-day if it were not paid, so she sent little Jean to Monseigneur to ask for help and—
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| Persomé.
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Oh mon Dieu! It is hopeless, hopeless. We shall have nothing left. His estate is sold, his savings have gone. His furniture, everything. Were it not for my little dot we should starve, and now my beautiful — beautiful (sob) salt cellars. Ah, it is too much, too much (she breaks down crying)
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| Marie.
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Madam, I am sorry, if I had known—
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| Persomé.
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Sorry and why, pray? If Monseigneur the Bishop chooses to sell his salt cellars he may do so, I suppose. Go and wash your hands, they are disgracefully dirty.
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| Marie.
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Yes, Madam, (going towards R.)
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| Bishop.
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Ah! how nice and warm it is in here
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