Sister Sacristan. I suspected something of that kind.
Abbess. You do not approve, sister?
Sister Sacristan. No, mother. It would be taking the time and money from the redressing of the skeleton of Saint Prosdoscimus, which is a most creditable relic, of unquestioned authenticity, with real diamond loops in his eye holes; this skeleton ought to be made fit to exhibit for veneration. And besides, this Bambino never had any clothes, and so far as I know never wanted any. The purple sash is only for modesty's sake. And as for such a new-fangled proposal coming from Sister Benvenuta—that alone—
Abbess. That will do. Fie, fie, little sister. The Sacred Bambino is not your serving Cavalier, that you should wish to cover him with silk and velvet. Is the Reverend Father coming?
Sister Sacristan. Immediately, mother. He only stayed to gather his manuscript.
Abbess. Call in the man with the puppets.
[Exit Sister Sacristan.]
And now, little sister, you may go. You see it is not wise, ... your thought for the Bambino.
Benvenuta. No, mother. I see it is not wise.
[Benvenuta goes up the staircase and off at the left.—The Abbess seats herself in the chair of State. The Father Confessor comes in from the Chapel.]