Monseigneur (leaning on his elbow, screams,) Lorrain! Lorrain! (And while the Bishop rises, Lorrain, the big man-at-arms, comes clanking in through the hangings from the corridor.)
Lorrain (hoarsely). Monseigneur?
Monseigneur. Lorrain—listen! I have a duty for thee—at once!—a solemn duty!
Lorrain. Name it, Monseigneur. It shall be done.
Monseigneur (feverishly). Lorrain—thou knowest Death, dost thou not? Thou hast often seen him?
Lorrain. Death and I have often looked at each other, Monseigneur—many times!—straight in the eyes. I know him well.
Monseigneur. Good! Then take thy comrades, Lorrain—forty, fifty of thy stoutest men-at-arms—my Lansquenets! Post them at every door of this my palace; and if Death tries to enter, tell them to fire on him and kill him. My strictest orders!
Lorrain. Monseigneur, it shall be done. He shall not enter. We ourselves will die first. (Salutes and is going.)
Monseigneur (faintly, as he lies back). And, Lorrain⸺
Lorrain. Monseigneur?