Oh, do not jest with me;
You bring a devil to the paradise
It is to gaze on you. I am escaped
From convent-walls, the wrong, the bitterness!
GENEVIVA.
These monks are cruel, cruel, and I shudder
At their embrace; yet if I have a joy
It is to bring their manhood back to them.
Ha, ha! To see them look the murderer’s guilt
After a moment’s pleasure in my arms.
You shall not slip me.
CARLOMAN.
I have left the convent
A novice, as you say. But who are you
So terrible in pity that you touch
My hand and draw me to you, though my habit
And shaven hair insult you worse, more grossly
Than the most wanton bearing you have met
In any other man? I am ashamed
That you should see me thus.
GENEVIVA.
My dearest lovers
Forsook me to be monks. You are as one
That comes to bring me tidings of the dead,
The holy dead who have no evil thoughts
Or trouble from temptation.
[She laughs bitterly] For their sakes
You are beloved.
CARLOMAN.
Then put away all speech:
When love draws on me put it by as scholars
Their task when night falls thick upon the page.
Bend over me and kiss me. Do not laugh—
I love you.