Don Manuel de Lara: And so you long for Paradise?
Sister Pilar: With a great longing.
Don Manuel de Lara: I sometimes dream of Paradise.
Sister Pilar: And how does it show in your dreams?
Don Manuel de Lara (smiling a little): I fear it is mightily like what the trovares—not the monks—tell us of hell.
Sister Pilar (severely): Then it must be a dream sent you by a fiend of the Moorish Paradise, which is indeed hell.
Don Manuel de Lara: That may be. And how does it show in your dreams?
Sister Pilar: A great, cool, columned, empty hall, and I feel at once small and vast and shod with the wind. And all the while I am aware that the coolness and vastness and spaciousness of the hall and my body’s lightness is because there is no sin.
Don Manuel de Lara: But what can you know of sin in a nunnery?
Sister Pilar looks at him suspiciously, but his expression remains impenetrable.