ANTONINUS: Never! I will not look.
SATAN: Ah, look at them, Antoninus. Their sweet figures. And the warm
wind blowing in Spring.
ANTONINUS: Never! My scourge is for such.
[SATAN _sighs. The girls laugh from the hill._ ANTONINUS _hears the
laughter._
_A look of fear comes over him._
ANTONINUS: Which ... (_a little peal of girlish laughter off_). Which
cherry tree did you speak of?
SATAN: This one over the window.
ANTONINUS (_with an effort_): It shall be held accursed. I will warn the
brethren. It shall be cut down and hewn asunder and they shall burn it
utterly.
SATAN (_rather sorrowfully_): Ah, Antoninus.
ANTONINUS: You shall not tempt a monk of our blessed order.
SATAN: They are coming this way, Antoninus.
ANTONINUS: What! What!
SATAN: Have your scourge ready, Antoninus.
ANTONINUS: Perhaps, perhaps they have not merited extreme chastisement.
SATAN: They have made a garland of may, a long white garland drooped
from their little hands. Ah, if you were young, Antoninus.
ANTONINUS: Tempt me not, Satan. I say, tempt me not!
[_The girls sing_, SATAN _smiles, the girls sing on._ ANTONINUS
_tip-toes to seat, back to window, and sits listening. The girls sing
on. They pass the window and shake the branch of a cherry tree.
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