Ibarra. There goes the salvation of your soul!
Padilla. The salvation of my daughter!
Calabazas. It were better that she should die!
Padilla. Ah! priests, you have no children! But the King is a father, he—he will understand me!
Four girls from the convent of Mercy come out of the church followed by two nuns, Enrique and Fatoum, conducting lackeys wearing Padilla’s livery, who carry a kind of easy chair in which Joana is sleeping under a mantle of rich material ornamented with white flowers. The chair is deposited at the foot of the steps. The crowd, murmuring with interest and curiosity, draws near. Far in the church women are singing a canticle. Profound silence follows. All the assistants go forward, stretching their necks to see the women of the first rank. The nuns, the young girls, and Fatoum and Padilla on their knees, are under the portal. To the right, at the entrance of the alley, are Aisha and Zaguir, who witnessed Zoraya’s arrival. Zoraya stands on the steps behind Joana and raises her face to the crowd. They see the young girl pale as death, her eyes closed. Enrique stands at the left, apart from the others.
Zoraya. (Putting her fingers on Joana’s eyelids, then upon her head) Joana! Joana! (Joana moves. Zoraya breathes on her forehead.) Awaken! (With authority.) I want you to!—(Joana moves with effort and opens her eyes. Murmurs from the assistants.) Arise!
With Zoraya’s aid Joana raises herself, puts her feet on the ground and stands. Clamors of admiration from the crowd. Joana looks about with surprise.
Joana. Where am I? (She sees Zoraya.) The Mooress!—Fatoum!—My sisters!
Padilla. Joana!
Joana. My father!