Michael and His Lost Angel: A Play in Five Acts

by Henry Arthur Jones

MICH. (comes eagerly to the window). Do you mean that?

AUDR. Mean what?

MICH. That your soul is in my keeping?

AUDR. Not at all. I meant nothing except that thoughts like these must constantly stray through a priest’s mind. Don’t they? (Long pause.) Why don’t you speak?

MICH. (cold, stern). I have nothing to say.

(Pause.)

AUDR. (taking out purse, taking out two notes). Oh! I was forgetting—I’ve brought you a little contribution for the restoration of your Minster.

(Putting notes on window-sill. MICHAEL stands cold, angry.)

AUDR. Won’t you take it?

MICH. Thank you. No.