He smiles, and she gives a little smile back at him.
Don Manuel de Lara: And so it is of roses and nightingales that you ask tidings, and not of mother and father or brothers! Well, it is always thus with exiles. When I have lain fevered with my wounds very far from Old Castille, it has been for the river that flows at the foot of our orchard I have yearned, or for the green Vega dotted with brown villages and stretching away towards the Sierra.
Sister Pilar: I am not an exile.
Don Manuel de Lara: An exile is one who is far from home.
Sister Pilar: This is my home.
Don Manuel de Lara: And do you never yearn for your other one?
Sister Pilar: My other one? Ah, yes!
Don Manuel de Lara: By that you mean Paradise?
Sister Pilar: Yes.