(He rides on toward the gate. The Abbot walks beside him. Louis, behind, where he cannot be seen, follows them. The bell rings and the monks move toward the chapel and enter, leaving the court bare.)
Father Benedict— You remember, I suppose,
As we clashed spears a while ago I said
The abbey here was a goblet, and you a saint.
I might say that I spoke in irony,
But that would not be nice.
Abbot— And you said, too,
Something about an angel with a cask.
Father Benedict—That is a cut at me. I recollect.
I said that I would fill your cup.
Abbot— Proceed.
Father Benedict— (Leaning over.)
Of this estate you get one cow. You hear?
That's a fine liquor, eh, Father? (To the ass.) Come up.
(Pierre comes from the dormitory and crosses the court toward the chapel.)
You are an old man and your work is done.
You may retire now and live on milk.
'Twill nourish that great intellect of yours.
Louis— (Under his breath.)
As well as anything that you could give.
Abbot—I welcome anything that can do that.