ABRAHAM. Oh, Mary, has anyone ever lived on earth without sin except the Virgin's Son?
MARY. No one, I know.
ABRAHAM. It is human to sin, but it is devilish to remain in sin. Who can be justly condemned? Not those who fall suddenly, but those who refuse to rise quickly.
MARY. Wretched, miserable creature that I am!
ABRAHAM. Why have you thrown yourself down there? Why do you lie on the ground without moving or speaking? Get up, Mary! Get up, my child, and listen to me!
MARY. No! no! I am afraid. I cannot bear your reproaches.
ABRAHAM. Remember how I love you, and you will not be afraid.
MARY. It is useless. I cannot.
ABRAHAM. What but love for you could have made me leave the desert and relax the strict observance of our rule? What but love could have made me, a true hermit, come into the city and mix with the lascivious crowd? It is for your sake that these lips have learned to utter light, foolish words, so that I might not be known! Oh, Mary, why do you turn away your face from me and gaze upon the ground? Why do you scorn to answer and tell me what is in your mind.
MARY. It is the thought of my sins which crushes me. I dare not look at you; I am not fit to speak to you.
