ABRAHAM. I have a little niece of tender years. She has lost both her parents, and my affection for her has been deepened by compassion for her lonely state. I am in constant anxiety on her account.
EPHREM. Ought you who have triumphed over the world to be vexed by its cares!
ABRAHAM. My only care is her radiant beauty! What if it should one day be dimmed by sin.
EPHREM. No one can blame you for being anxious.
ABRAHAM. I hope not.
EPHREM. How old is she?
ABRAHAM. At the end of this year she will be eight.
EPHREM. She is very young.
ABRAHAM. That does not lessen my anxiety.
EPHREM. Where does she live?