Bishop. It is not strange that you should feel so. And if you continue to harbor those thoughts, you are only deserving of pity. But listen, my brother; if, in spite of all you have passed through, your thoughts could be of peace and love, you would be better than any one of us.
[Pause. Jean reflects.]
Jean (speaking violently). No, no! I do not belong to your world of men. I am apart—a different creature from you all. The galleys made me different. I'll have nothing to do with any of you!
Madame. The supper, your Reverence.
[The Bishop glances at the table.]
Bishop. It strikes me there is something missing from this table.
[Madame hesitates.]
Mlle. Madame, do you not understand?
[Madame steps to a cupboard, gets the remaining silver plates, and places them on the table.]
Bishop (gayly, turning to Jean). To table then, my friend! To table!