Rosalba. You may laugh if you like, but you should remember how ready he is to slip away with the unwary souls of people who laugh at him. How he is always in wait, by day and by night, for a wavering thought or a rift in one's faith—
Grimana. See here the pouch he carries to put your soul in. Truly, Sister, he might pluck you off like a cherry.
Atalanta [shuddering]. Dear Sister Grimana—I beg of you—
Grimana. And he comes at the call of the secret thought—that's what makes him look so anxious—lest he should not be listening when you call him, and the Saints come to your soul first, and warn it—
Atalanta. Sister Grimana!
Benvenuta. Still, I can never look at him without laughing. He is droll. Atalanta, the lute.
[Atalanta brings forward the lute and tries the strings. Rosalba takes up the puppet of the lady.]
I saw the show-man. He was a most ill-favored man. Sister Rosalba, do you think he was excommunicate.
Rosalba. Of course not. And if he were, that would not make his puppets excommunicate.
Grimana. What if it did? A noble convent has privileges. It would not matter to us.