CONFESSOR. Give that to the ferryman; and then you'll get a glass of wine.
STRANGER. The last! It's like an execution! Perhaps I'll have to have my hair cut, too?
CONFESSOR. Yes. Later. (He takes the watch and goes to the door of the ferryman's hut, speaking a few whispered words to someone within. He receives a bottle of wine and a glass in exchange, which he puts on the table.)
STRANGER (filling his glass, but not drinking it.) Shall I never get wine up there?
CONFESSOR. No wine; and you'll see no women. You may hear singing; but not the kind of songs that go with women and wine.
STRANGER. I've had enough of women; they can't tempt me any more.
CONFESSOR. Are you sure?
STRANGER. Quite sure.... But tell me this: what do you think of women, who mayn't even set their feet within your consecrated walls?
CONFESSOR. So you're still asking questions?
STRANGER. And why may an abbess never hear confession, never read mass, and never preach?