Virginie
Lord bless me, it’s true! (She opens the door wide, falls on her knees and mutters a prayer, with her hands folded over the handle of her broom, after which she kisses the hem of the Saint’s habit and continues, in a mechanical and bewildered sing-song.) Saint Anthony, pray for us! Blessed Saint Anthony, look down upon us! Saint Anthony, pray for us!
Saint Anthony
Shut the door.
Virginie
(Gets up crossly.) Wipe your feet on the mat. (Saint Anthony wipes them awkwardly.) No, that won’t do: rub them hard, rub them hard. (She closes the front door.)
Saint Anthony
(Pointing to the folding-doors.) She is laid out in there.
Virginie
(In an astonished voice of delight.) Yes, but how did you know? It’s wonderful! She’s there, in the drawing-room.... The poor dear lady! She was only seventy-seven. That’s no age at all, is it?... She was a very pious and deserving lady, you know. She suffered a great deal.... And she was very rich. They say she’s left two million francs. That’s a lot of money.