Father Benedict— (With a superior air.)
Rome is Jerusalem, the city of God.
(Biting down his smile, Louis advances, his face assuming a doleful expression.)
Louis— (In a low voice, barely hiding his irony.)
Don't treat the old man that way, Benedict.
You do not know how keenly Father feels
The issue of this bout. Amazed I stood
Just yonder by the chapel steps and watched
Your spears break into fire. O Benedict,
What skill, what skill, what admirable skill!
Father Benedict—In dialectics I do boast some skill.
Louis—Compared to Father's admirable skill!
Father Benedict— (With a leer toward the Abbot.)
For what I have I thank no heathen sage.
Louis—With that composure which the gods must feel
Your reached your spear and slipped his lady's glove—
Father Benedict—His lady's glove?
Louis— The secret from his heart
In spite of all his desperate guarding it.
(Guido comes from the dormitory with a large book under his arm. As he passes toward the chapel he turns his burden toward the Abbot, who gives it an unconcerned glance and walks right.)