This he dropped into the wine.
The Knight, watching with anxious eyes, saw it rapidly dissolve as it sank to the bottom.
But all consciousness of the tablet, the wine, or the kneeling Knight, appeared to have instantly faded from the Bishop's mind.

He lay back gazing dreamily at a banner which, for no apparent reason, stirred and wafted to and fro, as it hung from an oaken beam, high up among the rafters.
"Wherefore doth it waft ?" murmured the Bishop, thereby adding greatly to the Knight's alarm.

"Wherefore ?--Wherefore ?--Wherefore doth it waft ?" "Drink this, Reverend Father," urged the Knight.

"I implore you, my dear lord, raise yourself and drink." "Methinks there must be a draught," mused the Bishop.
"Yea, truly," said the Knight, "of your famous Italian wine.

Father, I pray you drink." "Among the rafters," said the Bishop.