ndles on the tables. On the wall, left, a painting representing the
Archangel Michael killing the Fiend.]

[The STRANGER is sitting left, at a refectory table, dressed in the
white clothing of a patient, with a bowl before him. At the table,
right, are sitting: the brown-clad mourners of Scene I. The BEGGAR. A
woman in mourning with two children. A woman who resembles the Lady, but
who is not her and who is crocheting instead of eating. A Man very like
the Doctor, another like the Madman. Others like the Father, Mother,
Brother. Parents of the 'Prodigal Son,' etc. All are dressed in white,
but over this are wearing costumes of coloured crepe. Their faces are
waxen and corpse-like, their whole appearance queer, their gestures
strange. On the rise of the curtain all are finishing a Paternoster,
except the STRANGER.]

STRANGER (rising and going to the ABBESS, who is standing at a serving
table). Mother. May I speak to you?

ABBESS (in a black-and-white Augustinian habit). Yes, my son. (They come
forward.)

STRANGER. First, where am I?

ABBESS. In a convent called 'St. Saviour.' You were found on the hills
above the ravine, with a cross you'd broken from a calvary and with
which you were threatening someone in the clouds. Indeed, you thought
you could see him. You were feverish and had lost your foothold. You
were picked up, unhurt, beneath a cliff, but in delirium. You were
brought to the hospital and put to bed. Since then you've spoken wildly,
and complained of a pain in your hip, but no injury could be found.

STRANGER. What did I speak of?

ABBESS. You had the usual feverish dreams. You reproached yourself with
all kinds of things, and thought you could see your victims, as you
called them.

STRANGER. And then?

ABBESS. Your thoughts often turned to money matters. You wanted to pay
for yourself in the hospital. I tried to calm you by telling you no
payment would be asked: all was done out of charity....

STRANGER. I want no charity.

ABBESS. It's more blessed to give than to receive; yet a noble nature
can accept and be thankful.

STRANGER. I want no charity.

ABBESS. Hm!

STRANGER. Tell me, why will none of those people sit at the same table
with me? They're getting up... going....

ABBESS. They seem to fear you.

STRANGER. Why?

ABBESS. You look so....

STRANGER. I? But what of them? Are they real?

ABBESS. If you mean true, they've a terrible reality. It may be they
look strange to you, be