Trotaconventos (stamping): You fools! You fools! And you (turning to Don Manuel) ... you’ll lose your frenzied head for tampering with Don Pedro’s seal.
Don Manuel de Lara: Nay, I’d not lose it if I tampered with his carbuncle ... he is menaced by shadows and I fight them for him. Nor, on my honour as a Knight, shall one hair of the head of Sancho and Pedro and Domingo there suffer for this. But you ... you heap of dung outside the city’s wall, you stench of dogs’ corpses, devastating plague ... you shall die ... not by my sword, however (draws his dagger and stabs Trotaconventos). Away with her and your other quarry, Sancho ... good-day, old comrades ... here’s to drink my health (throws them a purse).
Sancho and Pedro lift up the dying Trotaconventos, Domingo leads off Jaime Rodriguez and exeunt. Sister Pilar stands motionless, pale, and wide-eyed, Sister Assumcion has collapsed sobbing with terror on the ground. Don Manuel de Lara stands for a few moments motionless, then quietly walks to the postern and locks it with the key, returns, and again stands motionless; then suddenly his eyes blaze and he throws out his arms.
Don Manuel de Lara (loudly and triumphantly): His truth shall compass thee with a shield: thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by the night. For the arrow that flieth in the day, for the plague that walketh in the darkness: for the assault of the evil one in the noon-day. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. The dead, the dead ... they melted like snow before the Spring ... my beloved!
Pause. Beyond the orchard wall there is heard the tinkling of a bell, and a voice calling, “Make way for el Señor! Way for el Señor!”
Sister Assumcion (sobbing): They are carrying the Host to Trotaconventos.
All three kneel down and cross themselves. The sound of the bell and the cry of “el Señor” grow fainter and fainter in the distance; when it can be heard no more, they rise. Sister Pilar draws her hand over her eyes, then opens them, blinking a little and gazing round as if bewildered.
Sister Pilar: Yes ... Corpus Christi ... and then Ascension ... and then Pentecost ... round and round ... Hours ... el Señor wins in His Octave.... Is He the living or the dead, Don Manuel?
Don Manuel de Lara: Beloved! What are you saying?
Sister Pilar: What am I saying? Something has had a victory ... maybe the dead ... but the victory is not to you. (Her eyes softening as she looks at him.) Beloved! (makes a little movement as if shaking something off). First, I must finish my confession ... the one I made this morning was sacrilege ... something had blinded me. They say that in the Primitive Church the penitents confessed one to other, so will I.