SanchoandPedrolift up the dyingTrotaconventos,Domingoleads offJaime Rodriguezand exeunt.Sister Pilarstands motionless, pale, and wide-eyed,Sister Assumcionhas collapsed sobbing with terror on the ground.Don Manuel de Larastands for a few moments motionless, then quietly walks to the postern and locks it with the key, returns, and again stands motionless; then suddenly his eyes blaze and he throws out his arms.
SanchoandPedrolift up the dyingTrotaconventos,Domingoleads offJaime Rodriguezand exeunt.Sister Pilarstands motionless, pale, and wide-eyed,Sister Assumcionhas collapsed sobbing with terror on the ground.Don Manuel de Larastands for a few moments motionless, then quietly walks to the postern and locks it with the key, returns, and again stands motionless; then suddenly his eyes blaze and he throws out his arms.
Don Manuel de Lara(loudly and triumphantly): His truth shall compass thee with a shield: thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by the night. For the arrow that flieth in the day, for the plague that walketh in the darkness: for the assault of the evil one in the noon-day. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. The dead, the dead ... they melted like snow before the Spring ... my beloved!
Pause. Beyond the orchard wall there is heard the tinkling of a bell, and a voice calling, “Make way for el Señor! Way for el Señor!”
Pause. Beyond the orchard wall there is heard the tinkling of a bell, and a voice calling, “Make way for el Señor! Way for el Señor!”
Sister Assumcion(sobbing): They are carrying the Host to Trotaconventos.
All three kneel down and cross themselves. The sound of the bell and the cry of “el Señor” grow fainter and fainter in the distance; when it can be heard no more, they rise.Sister Pilardraws her hand over her eyes, then opens them, blinking a little and gazing round as if bewildered.
All three kneel down and cross themselves. The sound of the bell and the cry of “el Señor” grow fainter and fainter in the distance; when it can be heard no more, they rise.Sister Pilardraws her hand over her eyes, then opens them, blinking a little and gazing round as if bewildered.
Sister Pilar: Yes ... Corpus Christi ... and then Ascension ... and then Pentecost ... round and round ... Hours ... el Señor wins in His Octave.... Is He the living or the dead, Don Manuel?
Don Manuel de Lara: Beloved! What are you saying?
Sister Pilar: What am I saying? Something has had a victory ... maybe the dead ... but thevictory is not to you. (Her eyes softening as she looks at him.) Beloved! (makes a little movement as if shaking something off). First, I must finish my confession ... the one I made this morning was sacrilege ... something had blinded me. They say that in the Primitive Church the penitents confessed one to other, so will I.
She walks up toSister Assumcion, who is crouching under a tree, her teeth chattering, and goes down on her knees before her.
She walks up toSister Assumcion, who is crouching under a tree, her teeth chattering, and goes down on her knees before her.
Sister Pilar: I confess to Almighty God, and to you, little sister, because I have sinned against you exceedingly, in thought, word and deed (she strikes her breast three times), through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault. You were wiser than I, little sister, and knew me better than I knew myself. I deemed my soul to be set on heavenly things, but therein was I grievously mistaken. When I chid you for wantonness, thinking it was zeal for the honour of the house, it was naught, as you most truly said, but envy of you, in that you gave free rein to your tongue and your desires. And, though little did I wot of it, I craved for the love of man as much as ever did you, nay, more. Even that poor wretch, Don Jaime ... it was as if I came more alive when I talked with him than when I was in frater or in dorter with naught but women. Then that poortrovar... he gave me a longing for the very things I did most condemn in talk with him ... the merry rout of life, all noise and laughter and busyness and perfumed women. Then when he gazed at you as does a prisoner set free gaze at the earth, my heart seemed to contract, my blood to dry up, and I hated you. And then ... and then ... there came Don Manuel, and time seemed to cease, eternity to begin. All my far-flown dreams camecrowding back to me like homing birds; envy, rage, pride dropped suddenly dead, like winds in a great calm at sea ... and that great calm was ... Lust.
Don Manuel, who has been standing motionless, makes a movement of protest.
Don Manuel, who has been standing motionless, makes a movement of protest.
Sister Pilar: Yes ... Lust. Little sister, I verily believe that in spite of foolishness and vanity, all the sins of this community are venial ... excepting mine. For I am Christ’s adulteress (Don Manuelstarts forward with a stifled cry, but she checks him with upraised hand), a thing that Jezebel would have the right to spurn with her foot ... yes, little sister, I, a bride of Christ, have been ravished. (Seizing her hands.) Poor little sister ... just a wild bird beating its wings against a cage through venial longings for air and sun! I am not worthy to loose the latchet of your shoe.
Sister Assumcion, who up to now has been crying softly, at this point bursts into violent sobs.
Sister Assumcion, who up to now has been crying softly, at this point bursts into violent sobs.
Sister Assumcion: Oh ... Sister ... ’tis I ... I envied you first your fine furniture and sheets and ... things ... and then the knight there ... spurning me for you ... and I told Trotaconventos ... and Don Jaime ... and it is all my doing ... and ’tis I that crave forgiveness.
Sister Pilar: Hush, little sister, hush! (Strokes her hands.) Sit quiet a little while and rest ... you have been sadly shaken.
Rises and silently confrontsDon Manuel de Lara.
Rises and silently confrontsDon Manuel de Lara.
Don Manuel de Lara: And what have you to say to me—my beloved?
Sister Pilar: Only that I fear my little sister and I are late for Vespers.
He falls on his knees and seizes the hem of her habit.
He falls on his knees and seizes the hem of her habit.
Don Manuel de Lara: Oh, very soul of my soul! White heart of hell wherein I must burn for all eternity! I see it now ... we have been asleep and we have wakened ... or, maybe, we have been awake and now we have fallen asleep. Look! look at the evening star caught in the white blossom—the tree’s cold, virginal fruition (springs to his feet). Vespers ... the Evening Star ... bells and stars and Hours, they are leagued against me ... and yet I thought ... is it the living or the dead? I cannot fight stars ... wheels ... the Host ... Beloved, will you sometimes dream of me? No need to answer, because I know you will. Our dreams ... God exacts no levy on our dreams ... the angels dare not touch them ... they are ours. First, heavy penance, then, maybe, if I win forgiveness, the white habit of St. Bruno. When you are singing Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Compline, I, too, shall be singing them—through the long years. God is merciful and the Church is the full granery of His Grace ... maybe He will pardon us; but it will be foryoursoul that I shall pray, not mine.
Sister Pilar(almost inaudibly): And I for yours ... beloved. (Turns towardsSister Assumcion): Come, little sister.
They move slowly towards the Convent till they vanish among the trees.Don Manuelholds out the key in front of him for a few seconds, gazing at it, then unlocks the postern, goes out through it, shuts it, and one can hear him locking it at the other side.
They move slowly towards the Convent till they vanish among the trees.Don Manuelholds out the key in front of him for a few seconds, gazing at it, then unlocks the postern, goes out through it, shuts it, and one can hear him locking it at the other side.
The Convent chapel. The nuns seated in their stalls are singing Vespers.
The Convent chapel. The nuns seated in their stalls are singing Vespers.
Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem; praise thy God, O Zion.
For He hath strengthened the bars of thy gates; he hath blessed thy children within thee.
Who hath made peace in thy borders: and filled thee with the fat of corn.
Who sendeth forth His speech upon the earth: His word runneth very swiftly.
Sister Pilar, as white as death, andSister Assumcion, still sobbing, enter and take their places.
Sister Pilar, as white as death, andSister Assumcion, still sobbing, enter and take their places.
Who giveth snow like wool: He scattereth mist like ashes.
He sendeth His crystal like morsels: who shall stand before the face of His cold?
He shall send out His word and shall melt them: His wind shall blow, and the waters shall run.
Who declareth His word unto Jacob: His Justice and judgments unto Israel.
He hath not done in like manner to every nation: and His judgement He hath not made manifest to them.
The Lord, who putteth peace on the borders of the Church, filleth us with the fat of wheat.
Brethren: For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, that the Lord Jesus, the same night in which He was betrayed, took bread, and giving thanks, broke, and said: “Take ye and eat: this is my body, which shall be delivered for you: this do for the commemoration of me.”
They sing:
They sing:
Pange, lingua, gloriósi,Córporis mystérium,Sangúinisque pretiósi,Quem in mundi prétiumFructus ventris generósiRex effudit géntium.
Pange, lingua, gloriósi,Córporis mystérium,Sangúinisque pretiósi,Quem in mundi prétiumFructus ventris generósiRex effudit géntium.
Pange, lingua, gloriósi,Córporis mystérium,Sangúinisque pretiósi,Quem in mundi prétiumFructus ventris generósiRex effudit géntium.
Pange, lingua, gloriósi,
Córporis mystérium,
Sangúinisque pretiósi,
Quem in mundi prétium
Fructus ventris generósi
Rex effudit géntium.
During the singing of this hymn,Sister Pilarleaves her place in the choir and prostrates herself before the altar.
During the singing of this hymn,Sister Pilarleaves her place in the choir and prostrates herself before the altar.
Nobis datus, nobis natusEx intacta virgine,Et in mundo conversátus,Sparso verbi sémine,Sui moras incolátusMiro clausit órdine.In suprémæ nocte coenæRecúmbens cum frátribus.
Nobis datus, nobis natusEx intacta virgine,Et in mundo conversátus,Sparso verbi sémine,Sui moras incolátusMiro clausit órdine.In suprémæ nocte coenæRecúmbens cum frátribus.
Nobis datus, nobis natusEx intacta virgine,Et in mundo conversátus,Sparso verbi sémine,Sui moras incolátusMiro clausit órdine.
Nobis datus, nobis natus
Ex intacta virgine,
Et in mundo conversátus,
Sparso verbi sémine,
Sui moras incolátus
Miro clausit órdine.
In suprémæ nocte coenæRecúmbens cum frátribus.
In suprémæ nocte coenæ
Recúmbens cum frátribus.
The curtain, when there is one, should at this point begin slowly to fall.
The curtain, when there is one, should at this point begin slowly to fall.
Observáta lege pleneCibis in legalibusCibum turbæ duodénæSe dat suis manibus.
Observáta lege pleneCibis in legalibusCibum turbæ duodénæSe dat suis manibus.
Observáta lege pleneCibis in legalibusCibum turbæ duodénæSe dat suis manibus.
Observáta lege plene
Cibis in legalibus
Cibum turbæ duodénæ
Se dat suis manibus.
For a few seconds there was silence; and Teresa saw several ladies exchanging amused, embarrassed glances.
Then Harry could be heard saying, “Er ... er ... er ... a piece ... er ...amazinglywell adapted to its audience ... er ... er....” All turned round in the direction of his voice, and some smiled. Then again there was a little silence, till a gallant lady, evidently finding the situation unbearable, came up to Teresa and said, “Thrilling, my dear, thrilling! But I’m afraid in places it’s rather too deep for me.”
Then others followed her example. “Whatisan auto-sacramentál, exactly?” “Oh, really! A knight of the time of Pedro the Cruel? I always connected Don Juan ... or how is it one ought to pronounce it? Don Huan, is it? I always connected him with the time of Byron, but I suppose that was absurd.” “I liked the troubadour’s jolly red boots; are they what are called Cossack boots? Oh, no, of course, that’s Russian.”
But it was clear they were all horribly embarrassed.
The babies and children had, for some time, been getting fretful; and now the babies were giving their nerve-rending catcalls, the children their heart-rending keening.
In one of her moments of insight, Jollypot had said that there is nothing that brings home to one so forcibly the suffering involved in merely being alive as the change that takes place in the cry of a child between its first and its fourth year.
But the children were soon being comforted with buns; the babies with great, veined, brown-nippled breasts, while Mrs. Moore, markedly avoiding any member of the Lane family, moved about among her women with pursed mouth.
Then the actors appeared, still in their costumes, and mingled with the other guests, drinking tea andchatting. The Doña, eyebrows quizzically arched, came up to Teresa.
“My dear child, whatwereyou thinking of? Just look at Mrs. Moore’s face! That, of course, makes up for a lot ... but, still! And I do hope they won’t think Spanish convents are like that nowadays.”
Thank goodness! The Doña, at least, had not smelt a rat.
Then she saw Guy coming towards her; for some reason or other, he looked relieved.
“I wish to God Haines would make his people stylisize their acting more—make them talk in more artificial voices in that sort of play. They ought to speak like the Shades in Homer; that would preserve the sense of the Past. There’s nothing that can be so modern as a voice.” He looked at her. “It’s funny ... you know, it’s not the sort of thing one would have expected you to write. It has a certain gush and exuberance, but it’s disgustingly pretty ... it really is, Teresa! Of course, one does get thrills every now and then, but I’m not sure if they’re legitimate ones—for instance, in the last scene but one, when Don Manuel becomes identified with the Year-Spirit.”
Sothatwas it! He had feared that, according to his own canons, it would be much better than it was; hence his look of relief. She had a sudden vision of what he had feared a thing written by her would be like—something black and white, and slightly mathematical; dominoes, perhaps, which, given that the simple rule is observed that like numbers must be placed beside like, can follow as eccentric a course as the players choose, now in a straight line, now zigzagging, now going off at right angles, now again in a straight line; a sort of visible music. And, indeed, that line of ivory deeply indentured with the strong, black dots would be like the design, only stronger and clearer, madeby an actual page of music; like that in a portrait she had once seen by Degas of a lady standing by a piano.
But she felt genuinely glad that her play should have achieved this, at least, that one person should feel happier because of it; and she was quite sincere when she said, “Well, Guy, it’s an ill wind, you know.”
He grew very red. “I haven’t the least idea what you mean,” he said angrily.
After that, Concha came up, and was very warm in her congratulations. Did she guess? If she did, she would rather die than show that she did. Teresa began to blush, and it struck her how amused Concha must be feeling, if shehadguessed, at the collapse of Sister Assumcion’s love affairs, and at the final scene between Pilar and Assumcion—Pilar’s noble self-abasement, Assumcion’s confession of her own inferiority.
And David? He kept away from her, and she noticed that he was very white, and that his expression was no longer buoyant.