Abb. Woman, what want you here?
Marg. I want my husband. (At the back of the stage, in a dimly-lit cell, behind a grating, Gerbhert is seen kneeling. He rises, at sound of Margaret’s voice, a Monk holds a crucifix before him and he sinks back.)
Abb. Whom do you call by so profane a title within these holy walls?
Marg. My husband, Gerbhert, vicar at Milan. O let me see him, our little one is dying. Where doth he linger aliened from his home? (Gerbhert comes forward again, the Monk lifts the crucifix and he goes back wringing his hands.)
Abb. This is his home, he knows no wife nor children,
You must go hence.
Marg. If I called out unto these barren walls
And had they but a heart to hear my prayer,
Beneath their stony hardness they would open
To let me see him.