Abbot— Where did you
Find it?
Father Benedict—Where do you suppose?
Louis— In the brook?
Father Benedict—A cauldron of hell-broth would be
nearer it. And you? (The Abbot shakes his head.)
On his best-beloved.
Louis— On Pierre?
Father Benedict— On the dwarf. (He drinks.)
Wages for his services, I suppose.
(While the Priest drains the cup, the Abbot nods to Louis, who steps quickly toward Oswald as if to hurry him out.)
Father Benedict—Hold up! You let him stay.
Oswald—(Excitedly.) You had no right—
Father Benedict— (Lifting his hand.)
It's my turn to explain. (He begins to fill the cup.)