Abbess. Courage, child. I know it is the first time, but you will do well—I am sure you will do well. Come, let us take our places.
[Grimana enters on the steps, in great trouble of mind. She carries in her hand the puppet of the Beelzebubb, twisted and shattered and singed with fire.]
Grimana. Reverend Mother, forgive me. I have seen—I have seen—
[She clasps and unclasps her hands, unable to speak.]
Abbess. What was it, Grimana?
Grimana. I scarcely know, Mother. Mary be my shield!
Abbess. Speak, Sister.
Grimana. There was a great light through every crevice of the door of her cell. And music in the air—like harps and viols d'amour. And on the floor outside I found this—shattered and half burnt—this puppet. And from within, sounds—
Abbess. Tell me all, Sister.
Grimana [her fingers on the buttons of her cape]. Sounds as of a mother and her babe, cooing and kissing and caressing each other.