The house of Bernard Alba : My head is bursting with these tolling bells. PONCA: They have been mumbling away for more than two hours now. Oh, thank God we’re alone for a moment! Scrub everything clean. If Bernard doesn’t see things shine, she’ll pull out of the few hairs I have left. MAID: What a woman! My hands are bleeding from all this scouring. PONCA: She – the most immaculate – the most decent. She – the most superior! Her poor husband has earned a good rest. Damn her! MAID: She’s been good to you. PONCA: Thirty years, washing her sheets, eating her leftovers.
Nights watching ever her when she coughs. Entire days peering through the cracks, to spy on the neighbors and bring her gossip. A life with no secrets from each other. And yet – damn her! MAID: Ponca! [ the bells ring] PONCA: The last prayer – I’m going over to listen. I love the way the priest sings! MAID: Yes, yes, toll away! Bring in the coffin with its gold trims and the silk towels to carry it with. In the end you’ll be the same as me. Rot away, Antonio Maria Bandies, stiff in your woven suit and your high boots! Rot away! Never again will you lift up my skirts behind the back corral!
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