Cora. The path which I pursue, is that of nature and innocence.
High-Priestess. Obstinate girl!—But remember that you are a priestess of the sun, and tremble at the torments to which the severity of our laws destines those by whom they are transgressed.
Cora. I shall suffer undeservedly.
High-Priestess. You will not confide in me?
Cora. No.
High-Priestess. Nor confess your fault?
Cora. No.
High-Priestess. I admonish you for the last time, Cora!—But a few moments remain, in which confession is left to your choice—make your use of them. I know all—I am instructed in every particular. Soon shall I assemble the Virgins in the Temple, and convene thither the priests, who shall judge you, and by whom you will be judged with severity. Death will then be your lot, and worse than death, shame. At present we are alone,—do you persist in silence?
Cora. Yes.
High-Priestess. (Changing her tone) Enough, I cannot believe Cora to be really so guilty. I knew your mother, when you were yet a child, we had frequent intercourse with each other.—“My Cora,” she would often say, “has a gentle and complying spirit, for which quality I love her most tenderly.”