SCENE I

MOTHER MARGUERITE, SISTER MARTHA, SISTER CLAIRE, other SISTERS.

SISTER MARTHA. (to MOTHER MARGUERITE).

Sister Claire glanced in the mirror, once- nay, twice,

To see if her coif suited.

MOTHER MARGUERITE. (to SISTER CLAIRE).

’Tis not well.

SISTER CLAIRE. But I saw Sister Martha take a plum

Out of the tart.

MOTHER MARGUERITE. (to SISTER MARTHA). That was ill done, my sister.

SISTER CLAIRE. A little glance!

SISTER MARTHA. And such a little plum!

MOTHER MARGUERITE. I shall tell this to Monsieur Cyrano.

SISTER CLAIRE. Nay, prithee do not!- he will mock!

SISTER MARTHA. He’ll say

We nuns are vain!

SISTER CLAIRE. And greedy!

MOTHER MARGUERITE. (smiling). Ay, and kind!

SISTER CLAIRE. Is it not true, pray, Mother Marguerite,

That he has come, each week, on Saturday

For ten years, to the convent!

MOTHER MARGUERITE. Ay! and more!

Ever since- fourteen years ago- the day

His cousin brought here, ’midst our woollen coifs,

The worldly mourning of her widow’s veil,

Like a blackbird’s wing among the convent doves!

SISTER MARTHA. He only has the skill to turn her mind

From grief- unsoftened yet by Time- unhealed!

ALL THE SISTERS. He is so droll!- It’s cheerful when he comes!-

He teases us!- But we all like him well!-

-We make him pasties of angelica!

SISTER MARTHA. But, he is not a faithful Catholic!

SISTER CLAIRE. We will convert him!

THE SISTERS. Yes! Yes!

MOTHER MARGUERITE. I forbid,

My daughters, you attempt that subject. Nay,

Weary him not- he might less oft come here!

SISTER MARTHA. But... God...

MOTHER MARGUERITE. Nay, never fear! God knows him well!

SISTER MARTHA. But- every Saturday, when he arrives,

He tells me, "Sister, I eat meat on Friday!"

MOTHER MARGUERITE. Ah! says he so? Well, the last time he came

Food had not passed his lips for two whole days!

SISTER MARTHA. Mother!

MOTHER MARGUERITE. He’s poor.

SISTER MARTHA. Who told you so, dear Mother?

MOTHER MARGUERITE. Monsieur le Bret.

SISTER MARTHA. None help him?

MOTHER MARGUERITE. He permits not.

(In an alley at the back ROXANE appears, dressed in black with a widow’s coif and veil. DE GUICHE, imposing-looking and visibly aged, walks by her side. They saunter slowly. MOTHER MARGUERITE rises.)

’Tis time we go in; Madame Madeleine

Walks in the garden with a visitor.

SISTER MARTHA. (to SISTER CLAIRE, in a low voice).

The Marshal of Grammont?

SISTER CLAIRE. (looking at him). ’Tis he, I think.

SISTER MARTHA. ’Tis many months now since he came to see her.

THE SISTERS. He is so busy!- The Court,- the camp!...

SISTER CLAIRE. The World!

(They go out. DE GUICHE and ROXANE come forward in silence, and stop close to the embroidery frame.)