Bishop (with authority). Monseigneur! Beppo has gone. I saw him. This time he has run away—for good.
Nurse (puzzled). Ah? (As she helps the Doctor to carry Beppo to the chair.)
Bishop (gaily). He is better, Doctor, is he not? The crisis hath passed; he will recover?
Doctor (doubtfully, bending over the inanimate Beppo in the chair). I think so—with care.
Bishop. Ah! (So he goes back into the corridor and shouts:) The trumpets, Lorrain!—the trumpets! Sound a fanfare! A miracle! Monseigneur recovers. The Duchy is safe!
Nurse (after a glance at the Doctor). A miracle, indeed! (And as the trumpets peal joyously and defiantly, she crosses herself and murmurs:)—Monseigneur!
Walter Frith.