[Enter the Bishop from his room.]
Bishop. Good morning, Madame!
Madame. Your Reverence! The silver is gone! Where is that man?
Bishop. In the alcove sleeping, I suppose.
[Madame runs to curtains of alcove and looks in. Enter Mademoiselle. Madame turns.]
He is gone!
Mlle. Gone?
Madame. Aye, gone—gone! He has stolen our silver, the beautiful plates and the ladle! I'll inform the police at once!
[Starts off. The Bishop stops her.]
Bishop. Wait!—Let me ask you this—was that silver ours?