Lizzia, the old servant, is discovered kneeling at the altar.
Soon she rises, crossing herself devoutly.
Demurringly and with deprecating shakes of the head, she begins hanging wreaths about the walls of the room.
After the hanging of each wreath she crosses herself, and, with agitated piety verging on superstition, she bends the knee briefly before altar.
Now the wreaths are all in place.... Through the small window the grayness that comes before dawn begins to glimmer in.
One by one Lizzia snuffs out the tapers.
For a moment everything is left in the gray half-darkness.
But now Lizzia draws aside the large black arras in the back. There is revealed a magnificent panoramic view of medieval Florence, flushing gradually from pearl-gray to soft, delicate rose, then to the full gold of accomplished sunrise.
Again the old woman kneels at the altar.
Enter, through the open doorway at back, Violante—rather tall, good-looking, quite dark.