FATHER BENEDICT-- Him, then.
(_From his right hand he drops the silver crucifix
and, with the forefinger of his left, points
at Oswald. The latter starts, shrinking in
terror from the curse. The Abbot and Louis,
dumbfounded, stare wide-eyed at the crucifix_
_which dangles from its cord about the Priest's
finger. The latter, after regarding with an
expression of triumph the astonishment of the
Abbot, lets the crucifix fall to the table
and, reaching across to the other side, pulls
the flagon over to himself and proceeds to
pour out a cup of wine._)
You're a smart set. You've wormed your way around
To let him out of calling me a dog;
Now let him out of that. You've made it seem--
(_He sips the wine._)
ABBOT--Where did you find it?
FATHER BENEDICT-- To yourselves, no doubt,
That he was ignorant of the dream when he
Insinuated that I led the pack
That chased him.
(_After a sip of wine._)
Or would lead it.
ABBOT-- Where did you
Find it?
FATHER BENEDICT--Where do you suppose?
LOUIS-- In the brook?
FATHER BENEDICT--A cauldron of hell-broth would be
nearer it. And you? (_The Abbot shakes his head._)
On his best-beloved.
LOUIS-- On Pierre?
FATHER BENEDICT-- On the dwarf. (_He drinks._)
Wages for his services, I suppose.
(_While the Priest drains the cup, the Abbot nods
to Louis, who steps quickly toward Oswald as
if to hurry him out._)
FATHER BENEDICT--Hold up! You let him stay.