AGAPE. What noise is that outside the door?
IRENA. It is that wretch Dulcitius.
CHIONIA. Now may God protect us!
AGAPE. Amen.
CHIONIA. There is more noise! It sounds like the clashing of pots and
pans and fire-irons.
IRENA. I will go and look. Come quick and peep through the crack of the
door!
AGAPE. What is it?
IRENA. Oh, look! He must be out of his senses! I believe he thinks that
he is kissing us.
AGAPE. What is he doing?
IRENA. Now he presses the saucepans tenderly to his breast, now the
kettles and frying-pans! He is kissing them hard!
CHIONIA. How absurd!
IRENA. His face, his hands, his clothes! They are all as black as soot.
He looks like an Ethiope.
AGAPE. I am glad. His body should turn black—to match his soul, which is
possessed of a devil.
IRENA. Look! He is going now. Let us watch the soldiers and see what
they do when he goes out.