Monseigneur. Nay, Beppo! I am still the duke here, and I do not permit it. It is for me he has come.
Beppo. Philippe!
Monseigneur. Out of my way, brother; wouldst disgrace me before Him?
Beppo. Philippe!
(And the little Monseigneur draws himself to his full height, and, as though proudly entering the court and presence of some great rival power, bravely steps some of the few paces still left him towards the faint line, on the other side of which, only that he must cross it, there lies he knows not what. Only this he knows, that neither rank, nor ermine, nor soldiers, nor cannon will now avail him. So he boldly demands of the Figure that seems to look at him so kindly, full in the face:)
Monseigneur. Thou wilt suffer me to kiss my brother first? To say good-bye? (And as Beppo still tries to hold him fast:) Farewell, brother!—and remember! Nay, Beppo! (And so he turns willingly towards the Angel, who now slowly rises to receive him.)
Beppo (as he beats the air passionately with his hands). Philippe! Don’t leave me! Beloved Philippe!
Monseigneur. But see, Beppo! He knows my quality; after all, he rises to receive me! Ah, now—it is easy! See, Beppo; how easy it is! (And the little Monseigneur passes into the Angel’s arms with a smile on his face and the happy laugh of a tired child who at last finds rest, and the vision fades; while Beppo, with a desolating cry, tries to follow him, but his forces fail and he falls there in a swoon.
The cry is so loud, so bitter, that the Nurse comes hurrying in.)
Nurse (angrily). Who is it, screaming so? (She sees Beppo.) Ah! Monseigneur! See!—he has fainted! Doctor! (as the Doctor and the Bishop come quickly in from the corridor.) Monseigneur! (Then she sees it is not Monseigneur, but Beppo.) Nay! it is⸺