Yes, your name is--Brother.
JEAN. Stop! I cannot bear it--you are so good--
[_He buries his face in his hands._]
[_Enter_ MADAME _with dishes for the table; she continues
passing in and out, preparing supper._]
BISHOP. You have suffered much, sir--
JEAN (_nodding_). The red shirt, the ball on the ankle, a plank
to sleep on, heat, cold, toil, the whip, the double chain for nothing,
the cell for one word--even when sick in bed, still the chain! Dogs,
dogs are happier! Nineteen years! and now the yellow passport!
BISHOP. Yes, you have suffered.
JEAN (_with violence_). I hate this world of laws and courts! I
hate the men who rule it! For nineteen years my soul has had only
thoughts of hate. For nineteen years I've planned revenge. Do you hear?
Revenge--revenge!
BISHOP. It is not strange that you should feel so. And if you
continue to harbor those thoughts, you are only deserving of pity. But
listen, my brother; if, in spite of all you have passed through, your
thoughts could be of peace and love, you would be better than any one of
us.
[_Pause. Jean reflects._]
JEAN (_speaking violently_). No, no! I do not belong to your
world of men. I am apart--a different creature from you all. The galleys
made me different. I'll have nothing to do with any of you!
MADAME. The supper, your Reverence.
[_The Bishop glances at the table_.]
BISHOP. It strikes me there is something missing from this
table.
[_Madame hesitates.
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