High-Priestess. Poor little creatures, to love them is such an innocent affection.
Cora. And my love is equally innocent.
High-Priestess. Love for a man!
Cora. The feeling is still the same!—the heart must love!—a turtle-dove engages your affections,—am I to blame if mine are fixed on other objects.
High-Priestess. Do not deceive yourself, Cora. Is it a matter of indifference, whether you employ the sacred flame only in consuming the sacrifice, or use it to set the temple on fire?
Cora. I do not comprehend your simile, my heart speaks in a plain and simple manner. I always thought that love must be pleasing to the gods, I have made the experiment, and the event has justified my opinion. The gods cannot be offended with me; for say, good mother, when Cora serves in the temple, does a sudden gloom overcast the heavens, does the sun conceal himself behind a cloud?
High-Priestess. No, your guilty course has been pursued only in darkness—the rays of the great light have never witnessed your crimes.
Cora. Yes, they also have witnessed my love. On this very morning I solemnly embraced Alonzo in the presence of the sun himself.
High-Priestess. (With a start of horror) Embraced Alonzo?