Beppo. Young thrushes. I found them this morning, in a great lilac-bush, below the Black Dog bastion. See! There are five.
Doctor (gloomily). They will die.
Beppo. In this hot chamber? Ah! Before Monseigneur can even see them? Malheur! (As if at once to take them into the open air.)
Bishop. Beppo! (Beppo pauses and looks up at him with a smile.) My poor boy! Thou art seeming very ragged and dirty this morning.
Beppo. Truly? (As he looks himself over.)
Bishop. If thou art to play once more with Monseigneur, we must have thee washed.
Beppo (troubled). Washed?
Bishop. It will not hurt thee; it may even do thee some good. Nurse! Take our young friend here and wash him. Wash him well!
Nurse (pleased with the commission, rises). Ah!