The madwoman wants to escape, too, poor thing! They keep her locked up behind iron bars … She can’t sleep, she can’t die … She prowls that small space allowed to her, from morning to night, raging and howling … the poor wretch! It’s frightful!
What if they were to lock me up with Sister Agata? How ghastly! How horrible! What if I were to go mad?
O Marianna, I wish I could jump out of the highest window, but they’re all barred!
What torture! What agony! Even death, suicide and hell are denied to me! What have I done? What ever have I done? I swear, I’m innocent!
Listen, I shan’t love him any more! I’ll pluck him out of my heart … I’ll rock his children’s cradle … I’ll go far away … Let them do what they will with me – anything – as long as they take me away from here.
Tell them I didn’t know what they wanted of me when they made me a nun, that I didn’t know I’d have to be imprisoned for ever, that I was mad, that I’ll lose my soul here, that I haven’t long to live, not long at all … So why don’t they let me die in peace?