Sister Pilar: Only that I fear my little sister and I are late for Vespers.
He falls on his knees and seizes the hem of her habit.
Don Manuel de Lara: Oh, very soul of my soul! White heart of hell wherein I must burn for all eternity! I see it now ... we have been asleep and we have wakened ... or, maybe, we have been awake and now we have fallen asleep. Look! look at the evening star caught in the white blossom—the tree’s cold, virginal fruition (springs to his feet). Vespers ... the Evening Star ... bells and stars and Hours, they are leagued against me ... and yet I thought ... is it the living or the dead? I cannot fight stars ... wheels ... the Host ... Beloved, will you sometimes dream of me? No need to answer, because I know you will. Our dreams ... God exacts no levy on our dreams ... the angels dare not touch them ... they are ours. First, heavy penance, then, maybe, if I win forgiveness, the white habit of St. Bruno. When you are singing Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Compline, I, too, shall be singing them—through the long years. God is merciful and the Church is the full granery of His Grace ... maybe He will pardon us; but it will be for your soul that I shall pray, not mine.
Sister Pilar (almost inaudibly): And I for yours ... beloved. (Turns towards Sister Assumcion): Come, little sister.
They move slowly towards the Convent till they vanish among the trees. Don Manuel holds out the key in front of him for a few seconds, gazing at it, then unlocks the postern, goes out through it, shuts it, and one can hear him locking it at the other side.
SCENE III
The Convent chapel. The nuns seated in their stalls are singing Vespers.
Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem; praise thy God, O Zion.
For He hath strengthened the bars of thy gates; he hath blessed thy children within thee.