beautiful plates and the ladle! I'll inform the police at once!

[_Starts off. The Bishop stops her._]

BISHOP. Wait!--Let me ask you this--was that silver ours?

MADAME. Why--why not?

BISHOP. Because it has always belonged to the poor. I have
withheld it wrongfully.

MLLE. Its loss makes no difference to Madame or me.

MADAME. Oh, no! But what is your Reverence to eat from now?

BISHOP. Are there no pewter plates?

MADAME. Pewter has an odor.

BISHOP. Iron ones, then.

MADAME. Iron has a taste.

BISHOP. Well, then, wooden plates.

[_A knock is heard at street door._]

Come in.

[_Enter an_ OFFICER _and two_ SOLDIERS, _dragging in_