THE WIDOW SMILES at Madeleine, and rising from her seat, gestures for the girl to follow.
Together they disappear inside the widow's chambers, where the drapery falls behind them with the soft, deadly sound of snow sliding off a roof. The last thing the performers see is Madeleine's scornful glance, trained on them as she turns back, before the curtains envelop her: You are cowardly, all of you, she remonstrates. I had a plan!
In silence the performers imagine terrible things. No one has ever entered the private rooms of the widow.