Fifteen years later, in 1655. Park of the Sisters of the Holy Cross in Paris.
Magnificent trees. On the left the house:
broad steps on to which open several doors. An enormous plane tree in the
middle of the stage, standing alone. On the right, among big boxwood trees, a
semicircular stone bench.
The whole background of the stage is crossed by an alley of chestnut trees
leading on the right hand to the door of a chapel seen through the branches.
Through the double row of trees of this alley are seen lawns, other alleys,
clusters of trees, winding of the park, the sky.
The chapel opens by a little side door on to a colonnade which is wreathed with
autumn leaves, and is lost to view a little farther on in the right-hand foreground
behind the boxwood.
It is autumn. All the foliage is red against the fresh green of the lawns. The green
boxwood and yews stand out dark.
Under each tree a patch of yellow leaves.
The stage is strewn with dead leaves, which rustle under foot in the alleys, and
half cover the steps and benches.
Between the benches on the right hand and the tree a large embroidery frame, in
front of which a little chair has been set.
Baskets full of skeins and balls of wool. A tapestry begun.
At the rising of the curtains nuns are walking to and fro in the park; some are
seated on the bench around an older Sister.
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.
