CONFESSOR. Pure desire, to be satisfied; impure, to be stifled.
STRANGER. What is pure, and what impure?
CONFESSOR. Have you got back to that?
STRANGER. Ask these men here....
CONFESSOR. Take care! (He looks at the STRANGER, who is unable to support his gaze.)
STRANGER. You're choking me.... My chest....
CONFESSOR. Yes, I'll steal the air you use to form rebellious words, and ask outrageous questions. Sit down there, I'll come back—when you've learnt patience and undergone your probation. But don't forget that I can hear and see you, and am aware of you, wherever I may be!
STRANGER. So I'm to be tested! I'm glad to know it!
CONFESSOR. But you mustn't speak to the worshippers of Venus.
(MAIA, an old woman, appears in the background.)