_High-Priestess._ You will not confide in me? _Cora._ No. _High-Priestess._ Nor confess your fault? _Cora._ No. _High-Priestess._ I admonish you for the last time, Cora!—But a few moments remain, in which confession is left to your choice—make your use of them. I know all—I am instructed in every particular. Soon shall I assemble the Virgins in the Temple, and convene thither the priests, who shall judge you, and by whom you will be judged with severity. Death will then be your lot, and worse than death, shame. At present we are alone,—do you persist in silence? _Cora._ Yes. _High-Priestess._ (_Changing her tone_) Enough, I cannot believe Cora to be really so guilty. I knew your mother, when you were yet a child, we had frequent intercourse with each other.—“_My Cora_,” she would often say, “_has a gentle and complying spirit, for which quality I love her most tenderly._” _Cora._ Oh, she was always an affectionate mother!—All the happiness of my life was buried in her grave. _High-Priestess._ You have doubtless a sacred reverence for her memory? _Cora._ Can that be made a question!—Alas how many are the tears which I have shed for her in secret. _High-Priestess._ If such your affection, you surely would not convict her of a falsehood, as she rests in her grave. Must I be compelled to think that it was only the blindness of maternal love which could ascribe to you this gentle and complying disposition?—or will you convince me that she was right in her judgment? _Cora._ She was right! _High-Priestess._ Then prove it to me. The mother’s friend has an undoubted claim upon the daughter’s confidence. _Cora._ Ah me!— _High-Priestess._ The last words that were uttered by her pallid lips, still vibrate in my ears. “_My child_” she said, “_is young and inexperienced, should she ever want maternal counsel, be it received from you!_”—She spoke,—with her cold hands pressed mine, and expired. (_Cora betrays symptoms of irresolution, and appears combating with herself. The High-Priestess continues after a pause_) And your aged and reverend father, when he gave you into my hands, kissed you and said, “_Take her, she is a good girl, and will not occasion you any trouble._”—Afterwards, when he was about to return home, when he gave you his last blessing, while a tear trembled on his grey eye-lashes, what were his parting words—“_Cora, honour her as a mother_.” _Cora._ (_Falling at her feet_) I love! _High-Priestess._ (_Starting with horror_) You love? _Cora._ I can no longer remain a priestess of the Sun! _High-Priestess._ No longer remain a priestess of the Sun? _Cora._ But will marry. _High-Priestess._ Marry!—_you_ marry! _Cora._ The gods have given me a feeling heart. _High-Priestess._ To be devoted to their service. _Cora._ I was born to become a wife. _High-Priestess._ The Sun is your husband. _Cora._ To him I can offer only prayers and thanks; but our heart and our love can be bestowed only on a husband.