Requiem for a Nun

REQUIEM FOR A NUN 247

(after a second) Sorry.

(quickly)

You'll notice, I always remember to say that, always remember my

manners,-'raising' as we put it. Showing that I really sprang from

gentlefolks, not Norman knights like Nancy did, but at least people who

don't insult the host in his own house, especially at two o'clock in the

morning. Only, I just sprang too far, where Nancy merely stumbled modestly:

a lady again, you see.

(after a moment)

There again. I'm not even stalling now: I'm faulting -what do they call it?

burking. You know: here we are at the fence again; we've got to jump it this

time, or crash. You know: slack the snaffle, let her mouth it a little, take

hold, a light hold, just enough to have something to jump against; then

touch her. So here we are, right back where we started, and so we can start

over. So how much will I have to tell, say, speak out loud so that anybody

with ears can hear it, about Temple Drake that I never thought that anything

on earth, least of all the murder of my child and the execution of Li nigger

do efiend whore, would ever make me tell? That I came here at two o'clock in

the morning to wake you up to listen to, after eight years of being safe or

at least quiet? You know: how much will I have to tell, to make it good and

painful of course, but quick too, so that you can revoke or commute the

sentence or whatever you do to it, and we can all go back home to sleep or

at least to bed? Painful of course, but just painful enough-l think you said

'euphoniously' was right, didn't you?

GOVERNOR

Death is painful. A shameful one, even more sowhich is not too euphonious,

even at best.

TEMPLE

Oh, death. We're not talking about death now, We're talking about shame.

Nancy Mannigoe has no shame; all she has is, to die. But touchi for me too;

haven't I brought Temple Drake all the way here at two o'clock in the

mornim, for the reason that all Nancy Mannigoe has, is to die?

STEVENS Tell him, then.