please me. Do you sometimes say your prayers?
bridget. Prayers! No, you taught me to leave them off long ago. At first I was sorry, but I am glad now for I am sleepy in the evenings.
wise man. But do you not believe in God?
bridget. Oh, a good wife only believes what her husband tells her!
wise man. But sometimes when you are alone, when I am in the school and the children asleep, do you not think about the saints, about the things you used to believe in? What do you think of when you are alone?
bridget [considering]. I think about nothing. Sometimes I wonder if the linen is bleaching white, or I go out to see if the crows are picking up the chickens’ food.
wise man. Oh, what can I do! Is there nobody who believes he can never die? I—I must go and find somebody! [He goes towards the door, but stops with his eyes fixed on the hour-glass.] I cannot go out; I cannot leave that. Go and call my pupils again. I will make them understand. I will say to them that only amid spiritual terror or only when all that laid hold on life is shaken can we see truth. There is something in Plato, but—No, do not call them. They would answer as I have bid.
