LE BRET.
Cowards!.... Abominable!
RAGUENEAU.
Our friend, Sir, our poet, lay there on the ground with a large hole in his head!
LE BRET.
Is he dead?
RAGUENEAU.
No! but in what a state! I carried him up to his room... his room! You should see what it is!
LE BRET.