Abbot—The hunter saw it blood-stained in his dream.
(A gust of wind blows out the light in his hand.)
Louis—Perhaps it got blood on it when he fell.
Benedict may have washed it off. I thought
It might help quiet him. Shall I get it?
Abbot— No;
You may be right.
Louis— Still, if you think—
Abbot— You fetch—
I'll take the lamp and cup; you fetch the wine.
I will have Pierre watch with him to-night.
(Louis turns back to the window. The Abbot relights his lamp at the little taper in the wall and then goes left.)
Louis—By the way, Father, old Andrew has gone mad.
The storm has blown his mind's last spark out. Yes;
He tried to take the bracelets from Luigi
And would have dragged the chest out.
Abbot— And did he?