BEPPO (_patronisingly_). If only they had let thee alone, Philippe; sent thee out hungry to play in the fields, sometimes to sleep there; kept thee away from that foolish book-learning; thou would’st not be so weak and languid. So childish! Thou would’st be strong like me. Strong as a mule! MONSEIGNEUR (_tearfully_). Thou art a knave to say I am childish—a knave!—and when I am well again⸺ BEPPO (_boastfully_). See, Philippe, how strong I am, and how active. See how I can jump! (_As he jumps on to the settle by the fireplace, and vaults over the back._) _Holà_, there! _Holà!_ And I can dance—and run—and swim! MONSEIGNEUR (_feebly and vindictively, drawing his dagger_). If I could only reach thee—with my dagger! BEPPO. And I can fight, too! (_Laughing._) Why, thou dost not even hold thy weapon rightly. See, Philippe, it is so!—the point upwards! Not so! That is how women fight, with bodkins. This is how men fight. (_Stabbing at an imaginary foe._) Ha! Thou rapscallion! Thou mountebank! I will show thee! MONSEIGNEUR. Beppo! BEPPO. Let me but reach thee, thou coward! I will split thee! MONSEIGNEUR (_screams_). Beppo! Beppo! (_As the Bishop hurries in from the corridor._) BISHOP. Children! Children! Quarrelling? With daggers drawn? (_Severely._) Beppo? BEPPO (_rather alarmed, explains_).} I was only just showing him— } (_Together._) MONSEIGNEUR (_crying with rage_). } He was teasing me!—teasing me. BISHOP (_angrily_). Beppo! BEPPO. I will not do it again. It was only to amuse him. BISHOP (_aside, as he takes BEPPO by the ear_). Senseless! Dost not know he is dying? BEPPO (_startled_). Dying? BISHOP. Tease him no more, Beppo. Go; make friends with him; comfort him. BEPPO (_distressed_). Dying? Oh, my Philippe! (_So he goes and throws himself on his knees before MONSEIGNEUR, huddled up, crying, in the Nurse’s chair._) BISHOP. I shall be here, within earshot, in the oratory. And if I so much as hear thee!⸺Remember! (_And disappears through the hangings into the oratory._) BEPPO (_gently_). Give me thy dagger, Philippe; let us be friends again. So! (_as he throws the daggers on the bed._) And if thou wilt, I will cure thee. (_Winningly._) Shall I, Philippe? MONSEIGNEUR (_feebly_). When I am well again, brute, I will knock thy head. BEPPO (_soothingly_). Thou shalt! Thou shalt! (_as he puts his head on MONSEIGNEUR’S lap._) Knock it now, if it pleases thee. (_MONSEIGNEUR gives him a feeble, vindictive little slap._) There! Is that better? Do it again. (_MONSEIGNEUR pushes him fretfully away._) And now I will cure thee; make thee one day as strong as I. Only thou must obey me. Art ready—to obey me? Thou art still crying, Philippe? Nay, but why? MONSEIGNEUR. To think how I leave my poor Duchy! Defenceless! Ah, if only thou wert my true brother!—if only there were not the bar!