[As he opens the door, Luitolfo rushes in, his garments disordered.
Eu. Luitolfo! Blood?
Luitolfo. There 's more—and more of it!
Eulalia—take the garment! No—you, friend!
You take it and the blood from me—you dare!
Eu. Oh, who has hurt you? where's the wound?
Ch. "Who," say you?
The man with many a touch of virtue yet!
The Provost's friend has proved too frank of speech,
And this comes of it. Miserable hound!