MONK. - The vile,

The dissolute, the godless Don Juan.

LEPORELLO. Oho! Well, well! The fame of Don Juan

Has even reached the peaceful convent now;

His eulogies are sung by anchorites.

MONK. Perhaps you know him?

LEPORELLO. - We? No, God forbid.

And where can he be now?

MONK. - He isn't here.

He's far away in exile.

LEPORELLO. - Thank the Lord!

The farther off the better. Would that all

Such rascals in a single sack were sewn

And thrown into the sea.

DON JUAN. - What stuff and nonsense

Is this?

LEPORELLO. Be silent: 'twas on purpose I...

DON JUAN. SO here it was they buried the commander?

MONK.' Twas here. And here his widow did erect

A monument to him and every day

She comes to weep, and pray that God may grant

His soul salvation.

DON JUAN. - What a curious widow!

And is the lady pretty?

MONK. - Anchorites,

Like us, should not be moved by woman's beauty;

But lying is a sin: a saint himself

Must yet admit her wondrous loveliness.

DON JUAN. The dead man had good reason to be jealous;

He kept this Dona Anna bolted up:

Not one of us e'er caught a glimpse of her.

I'd like to have a talk with her sometime.

MONK. Oh, Dona Anna never talks with men.

DON JUAN. She talks with you, good father, doesn't she?

MONK. Oh, that's a different matter - I'm a monk.

But there she is. - (Enter DONA ANNA.)

DONA ANNA. Come, open, holy father.

MONK. I come, Senora; I was waiting for you.