[The Abbe Filosi bows low.]
Abbe Filosi. I shall be at your service, Reverendissima.
Abbess. I thank you enough for the poem. Farewell.
[He bows himself out, at right, as Sister Grimana and Sister Rosalba enter left.]
Grimana. You have sent for us, Mother?
Abbess. In the matter of the Shrove Tuesday play—yes. The puppets will be brought in advance, as usual. These few the show-man has already left.
Grimana. You wish them to be looked over, as usual?
Abbess. Not quite as usual. This year they are to appear in a play or poem which the Father Confessor has written for us—dealing with the story of Judith. Now the good Abbe, though a man of great learning and a graceful poet withal, has not the advantage of family that some of our sisters—
Grimana. And some of our guests—
Rosalba. I remember once, at a fête in the gardens of my uncle, the Doge—