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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/47241-0.txt b/47241-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a160a7f --- /dev/null +++ b/47241-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9960 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 47241 *** + + THE SAXONS + + A DRAMA OF CHRISTIANITY IN THE NORTH + + + BY EDWIN DAVIES SCHOONMAKER + + THE HAMMERSMARK PUBLISHING + COMPANY, CHICAGO. ILL., 1905 + + COPYRIGHT, FEBRUARY, 1905, + BY + THE HAMMERSMARK PUBLISHING CO. + CHICAGO + + [Illustration: JOHN F. HIGGINS PRINT 279-251 EAST MONROE ST] + + TO MY MOTHER + + + + +PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. + + +THE SAXON UNIT. + + CANZLER, chief of the Saxons. + FRITZ, a shepherd. + RUDOLPH, } + MAX, } foresters. + CONRAD, } + HARTZEL, an old man. + WIGLAF, a gleeman. + OSWALD, a shepherd, afterward a monk. + SELMA, daughter of Canzler. + + +THE ROMAN UNIT. + + FATHER BENEDICT, the village priest. + FATHER PAUL, a friar. + JARDIN, the bailiff. + JACQUES SAR, an old crusader. + JULES BACQUEUR, the smith. + HUGH CAPET, the barber. + MADAM BACQUEUR, wife of Jules Bacqueur. + MADAM VALMY, a country woman. + RACHEL, aunt of Madam Valmy. + ROSA, granddaughter of Rachel. + A BOY. + + +THE GREEK UNIT. + + THE ABBOT OF ST. GILES. + LOUIS, the prior of the abbey. + PIERRE, the sacristan. + ANDREW, an old acolyte. + ELY, the porter. + SIMON, } + RENE, } + BASIL, } monks. + SOLOMAN, } + LEO, } + GUIDO, } + MACIAS, a hunter attached to the abbey. + + +THE SUPERNATURAL. + + SIGURD, apparently a dwarf, really something else. + HULGA, a witch. + ZIP, } + GIMEL, } + KILO, } gnomes. + SUK, } + ZORY, } + FAIRIES. + + Other foresters, monks and villagers, men and women. + + As for me, + Let a man be a man. Outside of that + There is no power on earth that dares ask more; + No power in heaven that will. + +THE SAXONS + + + + +ACT ONE. + + + _SCENE ONE--A road through a forest. On either side trees + stand thick and dark. Immediately in front the light sifts + down upon a rude bridge spanning a narrow stream. At + the roadside, to the right, a large crucifix, apparently_ + _new, stands upon a post some ten feet in height. It is_ + _elaborately carved and is set in a deep frame to protect it_ + _from the weather. At the foot of the post, cut into the_ + _mossy bank which slopes toward the road, is a kneeling_ + _place with a white sheep's pelt lying upon it._ + + _A sound of voices is heard. Fritz and Rudolph enter from the + left and pause where a path leads off through the wood. The + latter has an ax upon his shoulder. Far in the forest a + faint sound of chopping is heard._ + + _TIME--Mid-day in summer, in the early part of the thirteenth_ + _century._ + + RUDOLPH--He's worth six. + + FRITZ-- I'll give you five, you pick them. + + RUDOLPH--I'll pick six. + + FRITZ-- I'll keep my ewes, then. + + RUDOLPH-- And walk + To the mountains? + + FRITZ-- We have not gone yet. + + RUDOLPH-- But-- + + FRITZ--And if I had my way we would not go. + + RUDOLPH--Nor would we go had I mine, Fritz. But we + Have not our way. The dragon has his way. + As far as Niflheim the North is red. + + FRITZ--Are we their sheep that we must follow them + Or be hung up on trees? + + RUDOLPH-- He follows us. + + FRITZ--Who do these woods belong to, anyhow? + + RUDOLPH--Where a man puts his foot the dragon puts + His belly, and the man's track disappears. + Where is the tree that has not felt the storm? + Have they not disappeared? Like leaves the tribes + Are scattered. + + FRITZ-- It has blown down trunk and all. + + RUDOLPH--Forests and rivers and ten thousand graves + Lie under that red paw. + + FRITZ-- It stains the world. + + RUDOLPH--The Weser rolls down bodies to the sea; + Their yellow hair is matted in the Rhine; + The deer that drinks the Aller in the night + Starts back from bloody faces in the stream. + They are our fathers, Fritz, who cannot sleep + While this coiled Hunger tracks us toward the north. + + FRITZ--And we must feed it, eh? We must grub roots, + Fatten ourselves on acorns in the wood, + As swine do, and then waddle to the swamp + And stuff its belly so that it will sleep + And trouble us no more, we must do that? + + RUDOLPH--No; we must leave, and starve it. + + FRITZ-- It don't starve. + More hunger means more flesh. Let's feed it steel. + + RUDOLPH--Steel draws the blood and brings the hunger on. + + FRITZ--Then draw the life. We don't feed it enough. + + RUDOLPH--It eats the blade-- + + FRITZ-- Then feed it hilt and all. + + RUDOLPH--It eats our swords and they come out in claws. + As Canzler says, a thousand spears have but + Peeled off its poisonous scales, and where they fall + A deadly fire burns and the elves die. + + FRITZ--We will call Wittikind. + + RUDOLPH-- From out the grave? + + FRITZ--His spirit will hear. + + RUDOLPH-- Wittikind was baptized. + + FRITZ--His head was baptized, but his heart was not. + A few drops here could not put out a fire + That scarred and seamed the dragon till it lashed, + Maddened and bleeding, all the tribes away. + A spark of him is in this forest. + + RUDOLPH-- Oswald. + + FRITZ-- Yes. + + RUDOLPH--Silent and shy. + + FRITZ-- Their fate whom Woden loves. + He homes the lightning in the silent cloud. + + RUDOLPH--Weak. + + FRITZ-- In himself, but strong by prophesy. + + RUDOLPH--Can you or I or chief hasten the day + Wherein Val-father's voice shall wake the North? + What man can say unto the lightning, "Leap"? + Of Woden's race, a million summer leaves, + We are, as it were, the winter mistletoe, + A lone green sprig with barren woods all round. + Can we shake off the snow and say, "Appear," + To the young race asleep within the trees? + Cry out above the dragon winter, "Die"? + You cannot hurry in its growth one leaf. + Yet you would thrust a sword in Oswald's hands, + Thinking to hurry Prophesy along. + If naked strength can save us, why not chief's? + Why Oswald, if the battle is to be now? + Without the aid of Woden, he is naught. + + FRITZ--Without it, naught, and with it, everything. + + RUDOLPH--Val-father calls to-day then? + + FRITZ-- Wiglaf's ears + Are where the whispers of the dead go by. + + RUDOLPH--Heard he the word, "to-day"? + + FRITZ-- And Wiglaf's eyes + Blazed glee-fire and his lips spake Woden's word: + "In him shall be the strength of all your dead." + + RUDOLPH--In Oswald? + + FRITZ-- In the seed of Wittikind. + "The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout + Shall make the whole North green." + + RUDOLPH-- The "seed" of. + + FRITZ-- Yes. + + RUDOLPH--There, Fritz, is where the whole great purpose turns. + + FRITZ--Eh? + + RUDOLPH--Prophesy, you see, walks in the air. + No man can say on whom it will lay its hand. + + FRITZ--Why? + + RUDOLPH--Would not Oswald's seed be Wittikind's? + Do you not see that some child still unborn, + The issue of Oswald's loins, may be the one + To take the sword that Woden will hand down? + Meanwhile, suppose the Christians hear of this. + Their spies are all about us. + + (_Dropping his voice and pointing to the bridge._) + + Who knows? + + FRITZ--(_After looking under it._) No. + + RUDOLPH--Suppose they once get rumor of it. Then + Suppose they torture Wiglaf for the rest. + Will not a thousand trumpets sound the chase? + Will they not beat the forest through and through, + Set fire to it, and when the stag appears + Shall breed the fawn shall grow the golden horns-- + + (_As though drawing back a bow-string and letting + spring the arrow._) + + Then what? What then? + + FRITZ-- We-- + + RUDOLPH-- We--? + + FRITZ-- We have our swords. + + RUDOLPH--We have them now. + + FRITZ-- And we can keep them. + + RUDOLPH-- We + Can neither keep our swords nor keep ourselves. + Who is it plants the white cross in our land? + The Frank? The Wend? The Saxon; we ourselves. + No; in that fire that burns up from the south + Thousands of our swords have melted and become + Scales on the dragon's back and teeth and claws + That now tear out our hearts. To-day swords strike + For Woden, and to-morrow the strange god + With those same swords storms Valhal, and lays low + Its golden roof. Our ash Iggdrasil dies. + Its beautiful leaves fall far off on the sea. + + FRITZ--Let's kill the worm that bites it, then. + + RUDOLPH-- That worm + Hath bit the Northman and the Northman bites + Val-father. + + (_A crash is heard in the forest._) + + FRITZ-- It was the tree fell. + + RUDOLPH-- So falls + Iggdrasil and the golden roof comes down. + When the North bites, Val-father dies. No, Fritz; + The South has thrown a snake upon the North, + And in its trail no fairy can be found. + They, too, have gone to the mountains. + + FRITZ-- Leave our homes? + + RUDOLPH--For all of us it will be better there. + The slopes are thickly clothed with oak and pine. + There, too, your flock will find good grazing, Fritz. + Conrad and I saw ledges thick with grass. + + FRITZ--It's thick here, too. + + RUDOLPH-- And torrents tumbling down + Fill to the brim the basins of the rocks. + There, in the dryest season-- + + FRITZ-- Look down here. (_He points down in the stream._) + And this mid-summer. + + RUDOLPH-- And game is plentiful. + + FRITZ--It's plentiful here, too; deer and-- + + RUDOLPH-- Chamois + And wild-goats browsing on the crags. + + FRITZ-- And here + Are wild-boars' lairs and-- + + RUDOLPH-- The dragon's den. + + FRITZ--His den is here, but he feeds everywhere. + + RUDOLPH--Not on the mountains. + + FRITZ-- They are barren; but + He would feed there if we should go there. + + RUDOLPH-- No. + + FRITZ--He ravages the whole wide-- + + RUDOLPH-- (_Moving his hand horizontally._) + This way, yes; + But that way? + + (_Pointing up._) + + No. He dare not face the light + That father Woden pours upon the peaks. + Under Valhalla's eaves the dark elf died + When the dawn smote him; so the dragon there. + His paws would break off on the mountain sides. + + FRITZ--We will stay here and cut them off. + + RUDOLPH-- Those paws? + Those huge, red, century-scarred paws? With what? + + FRITZ--They want our woods and crofts, that's what they want. + + RUDOLPH--The Saxon sword is broken. The great shield + That covered all the North lies in the loam + Rusting, and the wild-flowers eat its stains. + Where are our fathers, Fritz? Heimdall, who sees + All races, sees not anywhere that race + That stood at bay when Swabian went down, + Frank and Bavarian and the great North fell. + A paw was put upon its breast and lo, + It is scattered, blood and bones and heart and brain! + Its hand is here; its heart is in the north; + Its head far off an island in the sea; + Its blood is everywhere, in grass, in leaves; + Its flesh still fronts the dragon in these trees. + + FRITZ--And we, we men-- + + RUDOLPH-- Our time has not yet come. + + FRITZ--Must be the feet and run, eh? + + RUDOLPH-- We must wait + Until the heart calls from the silent north. + + FRITZ--Wait? + + RUDOLPH-- You would have us--? + + FRITZ-- If we are the hand, + For the hand strikes. + + RUDOLPH-- Without the head? No, Fritz; + We must delay our battle with the beast. + A new shield we will shape us on the heights; + Temper it in the flashes of the sky + And boss it with the terror of the grave. + Of mountain metal on the mountain tops, + New armor we will forge. Let the old shield + Lie here upon the plain, covering the dead. + Let the leaves cover it. And for the sword + That broken lies between the dragon's paws, + Val-father will reach down and put the hilt + Of some great Fafnir's-bane in Canzler's hand, + Canzler, in turn, in Oswald's when he weds, + And Oswald and the girl will pass it on + Down to the hand of that child-- + + FRITZ-- Canzler go? + + RUDOLPH--Whom Woden shall bid seek the dragon's den, + And Siegfried of the North shall slay the snake. + + FRITZ--Canzler will not go. Canzler! + + RUDOLPH-- He will go. + + FRITZ--Canzler will lay him in the grave first. + + RUDOLPH-- Fritz, + Who calls the fairies? + + FRITZ-- What of that? + + RUDOLPH-- Witchcraft. + + FRITZ--You mean that they will burn her? + + RUDOLPH-- Do they not + Burn witches in the city...? We can die; + We on our swords can perish; but the girl...? + + (_He goes off through the wood, leaving Fritz + silent upon the bridge._) + + FRITZ-- (_To himself._) + Canzler will lay his sword upon her throat. + + (_With bowed head he walks on across the bridge. + As he passes into the deeper shadows the + white sheep's pelt lying in the bank at the + roadside catches his eye. He goes curiously + toward it, when, seeing the post, he glances + up and stops suddenly. For a time he stands as_ + _one appalled._) + + Rudolph! + + RUDOLPH--Ho! + + FRITZ-- Here! + (_To himself._) This will break Canzler's heart. + + (_Rudolph reappears and joins Fritz, and the two + stand in silence, Rudolph with his eyes fixed + upon the crucifix, and Fritz with his eyes on + Rudolph._) + + FRITZ--What do you think? + + RUDOLPH-- It was put up last night. + + FRITZ--You still think we should leave here? + + RUDOLPH-- Still think? + + FRITZ-- Yes. + + RUDOLPH--Can there be any doubt of what this means? + Almost its eyeballs gleam between the trees. + + FRITZ--And if we leave here, what? + + RUDOLPH-- We bear away + To some far mountain nest our eagle's egg. + We save our hope. + + (_Fritz points to the crucifix._) + + Only proves what I say. + 'Tis some poor burgher who refused to bow + And would not leave. + + (_Fritz goes toward the crucifix._) + + And they have put it up + To mock us with the pains they will make us feel + If we don't bow. + + FRITZ-- (_Bending over the pelt._) + Knee prints. He has knelt here; + Knelt here and prayed-- + + (_Coming back to the road._) + + to Woden, do you think? + You know the hand that carved that? + + (_Rudolph goes closer and scrutinizes the + crucifix._) + + Your great sword, + Where is it now, Rudolph? the Fafnir's-bane + Val-father should reach down to Canzler's hand; + To whose hand will the chief's hand pass it now? + Out of the dragon's belly will he come, + Our Siegfried, with the great heart of the beast? + Our hope, our eagle's egg, where is it now? + + RUDOLPH--It can't be. + + _Fritz_-- Can't be? + + _Rudolph_-- Can't be. + + _Fritz_-- But it is. + At dusk last night I saw him in the wood + And he was wending this way carrying that. + And there are knee-prints on it. + + (_A pause._) + + And that thing; + What other hand could have carved out that brow + And laid that sorrow there? Look at those knees. + + RUDOLPH--This is why he has shunned us. + + FRITZ-- Say no word + To Canzler about this or to the girl. + Never will she be happy any more. + He will leave now. + + RUDOLPH-- (_Contemplating the knee-prints._) + Under Val-father's trees! + + FRITZ--Canzler has been a father to the boy. + + (_Rudolph comes toward the road, then turns and + looks back at the Christ._) + + So Balder looked lying on Valhal floor. + If the men hear this, they will vote to die. + + RUDOLPH--He must go quietly and no word be said. + + (_They walk together along the road._) + + FRITZ--The way he goes, the Saxon race has gone. + + RUDOLPH--We must go to the mountains, not the grave. + + FRITZ--Canzler has been a father to the boy. + + RUDOLPH--He may return and bring the Saxon race. + + FRITZ--Who will deliver him? + + RUDOLPH-- Val-father lives. + + FRITZ--(_Bitterly._) Lives with the dead. + + (_He goes out._) + + RUDOLPH-- He may yet be reclaimed. + The paths of Prophesy lead far away + But still the Powers of the air are bent + To guide it and their eyes are on its feet. + Let us not doubt Val-father's hand in this. + That eye in Mimer's fountain sees through all + The dark, gnome-haunted caverns of the earth; + The other under his calm brow watches heaven. + + (_He goes off through the forest._) + + + _SCENE TWO--Under an old beech in the edge of the forest. + A knoll, like the toe of a large boot shoved in from the + rear, butts squarely against the trunk. Up under the + boughs, left, lies a decaying log with here and there a + tuft of rank grass growing from the cores of old knots._ + _Beside it is a small basket filled with berries. At the_ + _foot of the beech, bubbles a spring partly walled in with_ + _dark mossy rocks, on top of which lies a brown gourd_ + _dipper. Two worn foot-paths, one winding up the slope into + the forest, the other entering from the left, meet at the + spring. The ground is checkered with flakes of sunlight_ + _that fall through the leaves, and over all is the silence_ + _of the summer noon._ + + _A crackle is heard as of a dry twig breaking under foot. The + branches on the left swing apart and Selma pushes through + backwards. She is a fairy-like creature dressed in green. + Her hair falls loose about her shoulders and upon her head + she wears a coronet of wild-flowers. Holding the boughs + slightly apart, she stands peering intently to the left, + then, turning quickly, she snatches up the basket and hides + it behind the log, and after picking a few green burrs from + the branches above her, darts to the right and conceals + herself behind the trunk. For a time she stands motionless. + Then, as if upon second thought, she stoops and removes the + dipper from the rocks._ + + _Along the foot-path, leading in from the left, Oswald enters._ + _He stops and looks back and for a time stands thus, as one_ + _undecided, a forlorn expression upon his face. He then_ + _turns and proceeds to the spring. Not finding the dipper,_ + _he lays aside his staff and hat, and stretches himself out + upon the flat stone at the entrance of the spring. While + he is drinking, Selma leans cautiously from behind the + trunk and raises her arm as if to drop something. Having + evidently seen her shadow in the water, Oswald glances + up, but seeing no one, lies down again and drinks. From + behind the hole Selma tosses a burr into the spring. Oswald + continues to drink. Finally he rises, and, taking up his + hat and staff, goes up the slope and sits down upon the + log. The girl moves stealthily around the trunk._ + + OSWALD--Selma. (_After a pause._) + Selma. I saw you in the spring. + + SELMA--I'm there yet, then; you didn't take me out. + + (_She comes round the side of the trunk opposite + the log and, stooping over, looks down into + the spring._) + + O you should see the fishes! two, three, four, + A troop of them! O Oswald, come and see! + They're round a splash of sunlight in the spring. + See how they twinkle and in the current stir + Their little crimson fins. Ah, I've scared them. + I really did; I scared them with my hair. + See how it fell. + + (_She points to a mass of hair that has fallen past + her cheek._) + + It would not hurt them, though. + We must be still; we must not say a word. + They never will play if they see us looking. + + (_Oswald points down into the spring._) + + That little green thing? That's a beech-nut burr. + I threw it in to scare the water-sprite + That looked up at you when you stooped to drink. + You did not see her? Oh, I did. I peeped + Like this, softly, over, over the edge, + And saw her peeping from the mossy stones + Down in the spring. Her hair was loose like mine + And brown as buckeyes, and her lips were stained + With juice of berries. Then I raised my hand. + Thinks I: "I'll drop a beech-nut on his head." + Then she raised hers as if to say: "Be still! + I'll make the bubbles break against his nose." + Was that what made you jump? You scared her so. + I saw her hair fly up about her face + As I leaped back. She lives down in the spring. + This morning as I passed I stooped and said: + "I'm going after berries; won't you come?" + She beckoned to me, too, and seemed to say: + "I can't leave home; my little fish will stray. + You come down here; I have some pretty shells." + Oh, look! Be still! She's let them come again. + See them flash. + + OSWALD-- It's the green shell they're after. + + SELMA--Why, there's no kernel in it. If there were + They could not eat it; it would break their gills, + They are so very thin. + + OSWALD-- We all do that; + We follow shells sometimes. + + SELMA-- O Oswald, look! + See how the little silver bubbles rise. + + OSWALD--And we are like the fishes-- + + SELMA-- Oh, do look! + You are not thinking of the fishes. See! + They follow it through the dimples round and round, + Paddling the current with their little fins, + And poising. They're afraid. They're drawing back. + There, by the green stone. + + OSWALD-- They are safer there + Than in the current. + + SELMA-- See, there's one that still + Nips at it in the eddies. See its scales. + You cannot carve like that. Look out! Oh, oh! + + (_She runs down to the outlet of the spring by + which the minnow has passed out, and walks up + and down, stooping occasionally to feel among + the stones of the rill. Oswald goes back and + sits down upon the log. After a while Selma + rises and looks toward the spring. The trunk + is between her and Oswald._) + + 'Twill grieve her so. + + (_In a low chant, abstractedly._) + + She's sleeping in the spring + Under the dark rock where the white sand pours. + The moss is softer in the forest there, + And there the wood-doves coo. + He's going away; they told me yesterday. + The forest heard them moan: He will not come. + The chestnut burr shall break; + The wild bird, feeding, shake + Unpicked the purple hartcrops to the ground, + And the hushed forest only hear the sound + Of antlers knocking where the wild deer rubs. + He's going away--away--away. + + (_Staring vacantly into the forest, her back to + Oswald, she unconsciously picks the green + burrs from the branches above her._) + + OSWALD--Selma. (_After a pause._) + Come here; will you? + + SELMA-- I'm gathering mast. + My fawns, they like it so. It makes them sleek. + + OSWALD--I want to tell you something. + + SELMA-- Tell me here. + If I had listened to the forest birds, + I'd have no berries. And my fawns must eat. + + OSWALD--'Tis something serious. + + SELMA-- Ah, you've been to town. + + (_As she saunters toward the log she reaches up in + the air._) + + Gossamers, where do they come from, Oswald? + You never are gay when you've heard the bells. + We are going to the mountains, _may_ be. Then + You will not hear them. Are there berries there? + Rudolph said he saw flowers in the ice. + Think of that. Blue-bells.--You are like my crow. + + (_She takes a berry from her basket and holds it up + between her fingers._) + + If you will talk, you may.--I must go home. + + (_She pulls down a bough and begins to pick the + leaves off, one by one._) + + OSWALD--I want you to go with me to the bridge. + + SELMA--I can't. I must go home. Father will think + I have been captured by the villagers. + + (_She removes her basket from the sun and lays the + leaves upon her berries._) + + He said: "You will not find them." But I did. + + OSWALD--Sit down. + + SELMA-- I can't.--It makes my berries red. + Father will say: "You see? They are not ripe." + + (_She goes about under the boughs selecting the + largest of the leaves._) + + It makes them black, then makes them red again. + + (_After a pause._) + + _I_ heard bells ring last night. I dreamed I did. + I called and they called and you would not come. + I thought you could not hear me where you were. + + OSWALD--In a great forest once two children lived. + They used to wander about the wood. One day, + Playing among the trees, suddenly they heard + Small voices calling: "Ho, children!" At that-- + + SELMA--Fairies. (_She comes to the log._) + + OSWALD-- The children rose wide-eyed and let + Fall the wild-flowers they had gathered and stood + Listening. Again the cry: "Ho, children!" + + (_Selma sits down._) + + Then + They, hand in hand, slowly, and half afraid, + Moved forward, and the voices, as they moved, + Moved onward, sometimes above them in the air + Singing, and sometimes in the fernshaws: "Ho, + Here we are!" And then a wisp of sun-bright hair + Flashed in the deeper shadows of the wood. + The children, shouting, "Catch her! There she goes!" + Darted in glee from trunk to trunk. At last + The voices died away. The children saw + The great trees glooming round them-- + + SELMA-- Oh, I know! + They cried themselves to sleep, for they were lost, + And then the birds brought leaves and--Didn't they? + No. + + OSWALD--As night came on, the elder of them, a boy, + Remembering to have heard a holy man + Speak of a house--a holy house--where men + Live as the angels live-- + + SELMA-- Went there? + + OSWALD-- To pray. + To pray for help. + + SELMA-- For the other child? + + OSWALD-- For her. + + SELMA--What did the fairies do? + + OSWALD-- But ere he went, + Carved with his knife upon a tree a sign + A good man in the wood had taught him, a charm + Against the spirit of the forest. Then he + Told her strange words to say and leaving her + Kneeling upon the moss, her little hands + Folded, he went away. (_A pause._) + Not for himself. + + SELMA--And did he not come back? Tell me the rest. + + OSWALD--Come with me to the bridge. + + SELMA-- Did he come back? + + OSWALD--I have carved a charm. + + SELMA-- A charm? + + OSWALD-- For you. + + SELMA-- For me? + + (_A pause._) + + Where are you going, Oswald?--(_A pause._) See my hair. + Why should it scare the fishes? You are wise; + Why should it, Oswald? It is soft as hers + Down in the spring, and if you'll come and look + You'll see the smallest minnows twinkle there; + They do not fear. + + OSWALD-- It is a snare. + + SELMA-- (_Naively._) + Is it? + I would not harm them, Oswald. + + OSWALD-- Father Paul says + It is the snare of Satan. + + SELMA-- I know him. + 'Tis not my hair he uses. + + OSWALD-- (_With horror._) Know Satan! (_He turns away._) + + SELMA--I did not know his name was--Ah, you run! + You are just like the fishes. Come and play. + I will not let it fall. (_Throwing back her hair._) + I will just peep + Over the edge. + + (_Going up the slope to where the boughs hang low, + she begins to gather the green burrs. While + she gathers them, she sings:_) + + _Hark, shepherd, hark; the forest calls_ + _Away to the greenwood still._ + _We'll leave the dewy wether-bell_ + _To tinkle on the hill._ + + _Our ewes shall nibble gowan;_ + _We'll gipsy in the wood;_ + _Our bed shall be the wild plush moss;_ + _Our cruse shall be the flood._ + + _The lush blue whortle-berries_ + _We'll gather eve and morn_ + _And we'll wander where the brocket_ + _Rubs the velvet from his horn._ + _Come, shepherd, come_-- + + I will not sing; the shepherd will not come. + I'll go and call the forest children. (_She takes up her basket._) + + OSWALD-- Selma. + + SELMA--Night-bird hooting at noon! + + OSWALD-- Listen to me. + + SELMA--I'll listen to the jay; he's merrier. + + OSWALD--You are not of the witches that at night + Fly through the air to that far windy crag + That beetles o'er the foam of the wild sea + And there, with orgies lewd to the black goat, + Whirl in the revel with dark Barrabam? + + SELMA--There is no fairy with a name like that. + + OSWALD--He is the prince of fairies and of fiends. + Father Paul says that oft on stormy nights, + When stars scarce venture to the brink of heaven, + Witches go down the sky scattering fogs, + Diseases, blights, and death, and with them go + Those whom their cursed arts have wrought upon + To taste the air of Hell. Far in the West, + From every quarter of the earth and sky + And from those awful rivers, they assemble + And hold their sabbaths on a windy cliff, + A headland hanging over the edge of the world, + About whose base an ocean bellows so + That nothing dares approach save frenzied things. + There, while the moon protrudes an awful horn + Far off at sea and rocks among the waves, + They curse God's watchful planets from the sky + And lead their converts, dizzy with the brew, + To trample on the blood of Christ and swear + To serve the arch-demon who is known to them + As Barrabam. A while ago you said + You did not know his name as Satan. Selma,-- + + SELMA--You said he used my hair, but 'tis not mine. + The other day I saw him in the stream + Snaring the silver chubs. Said he: "My lass, + I'll give two shiners for a lock of hair." + "To snare the fishes with! You horrid man. + I will not give it." And I ran away. + 'Tis not my hair he uses. + + OSWALD--(_Aside._) What a child! + Walking in darkness to the Tempter's snare. + Oh, I would die for you! + + SELMA-- You run away. (_He looks at her._) + You cannot guess what I found in the wood. + + OSWALD--You do not know what danger you are in. + + SELMA--I know the ground-bird lays five speckled eggs; + That filberts wear green hoods. + + OSWALD-- Oh, what of that? + What will that profit in the Judgment Day? + You have not been baptized. You do not hear + The terrible, terrible, groanings of the lost. + O God, you do not know, you do not know! + + SELMA--I know the wood-pink is the first to wake + Of all the flowers. I know where king-cups grow + And wink-a-peeps that sleep when days are dark. + I know when shadows lie beneath the boughs + As they do now, I know you'll never find + A squirrel or chipmunk out in all the wood, + For then the forest sleeps. And I know where-- + + OSWALD--O Selma, listen to me just this once, + And then forever listen to the years + Give back the echo of this golden hour. + Do you remember that day in the wood + When we were gathering may-apples? You ran + Shouting: "Here is a large one," and you stooped + To pick it, when a snake coiled round the stalk, + Hissed at you and you started back in fear. + Had it not hissed you never would have known + That it was there, so green it was, so like + The stalk it coiled about. You saw that one + Because it hissed. But one that hisses not + Is coiled about the world, as like the world + As was the green one to the may-flower stalk. + + SELMA--I have heard father speak of it. He says + That it is full of bones. + + OSWALD-- And souls of men. + Only in holy houses are we safe. + + SELMA--He said that I should not go near the village + In gathering berries. + + OSWALD-- 'Tis the serpent Sin. + Oh, how its sting has marred the perfect world! + Ready to spring, the fiends couch for us. We + Are hunted, Father Paul says, through the world + As was the deer the good saint saved, Saint Giles. + And men are fleeing from the wrath to come. + + SELMA--It cannot come up on the mountain tops. + + OSWALD--(_Fervently._) Call on the Virgin. Yield to Lord Jesus. + Do not reject him. Be baptized. Be saved. + Do you not see that I would die for you? + O Selma, playmate, loved one, promise me-- + + SELMA--I will not eat May-apples any more. + + OSWALD--Oh, not to understand and yet be lost! + + (_He walks away._) + + SELMA--I will not eat them, Oswald. I will not + Go near them if you do not wish me to. + + OSWALD--Some day you will know why. + (_He takes up his staff._) Then you will know + It was not for myself. You will know why. + + (_He stops near the spring._) + + You will remember this--this day--these leaves-- + The golden sunlight on the waters there-- + + (_Thoughtfully, looking down into the spring._) + + And never will come back forevermore. + + SELMA--Oh, yes it will. They will not let her grieve. + The fairies, when they trip the wood to-night, + Will miss her, for she dances with them there. + Oh, you should see them, Oswald. When they dance + She is no bigger than the fairies are. + To see them swing-- + Oh, 'tis a sight to make the wood-dove gay. + + (_Circling round in a dance._) + + _Lightly whirling round and round_ + _Through the forest, scarcely shaking_ + _Flower stalk upon the ground._ + _In the leaves the violets waking_ + _Scatter perfume. Fairies, bow;_ + _Lift their purple hoods and kiss them._ + _Join the dance and leave them now._ (_Ecstatically._) + + One night up in the wood, when silver flakes + Were dancing with the fairies on the moss, + An owl whooped. The fairies scampered off + Into the ferns. The little water elf + I found up close against a gnarled oak trunk, + Hid in a moss-pink in a drop of dew. + Oh, she was tiny as a fairykin! + Her hair was scattered, she was frightened so. + You should have seen her how she looked at me, + As if to say: "You here!" I nod, and then + We laugh together, thinking of the trick + The surly owl played. (_Again she circles round in a dance._) + + OSWALD--(_With horror._) This is enchantment! + This is the cursed spells of forest devils, + Witchcraft and Barrabam, the broth of Hell + And the wild mountain and the swirling sea! + + (_Advancing toward her, he reaches into his bosom + and fetches forth a large silver crucifix + fastened to a black string that encircles his + neck._) + + Selma, touch this, touch this and say with me: + "_Pater noster_--" come--"_qui es in coelis_--" + + SELMA-- (_Still dancing._) + I don't know what it means. + + OSWALD-- "_Pater_--". Repeat. + + SELMA--I say I do not know-- + + OSWALD-- It does not matter. + + SELMA--Then tell me what it means. + + OSWALD-- You must not ask. + You show more faith not knowing. "_Pater_--" Come. + "_Pater noster_--" (_Reaching toward her._) + Will you? + + SELMA--(_Snatching up her basket._) What does it mean? + + OSWALD-- (_Bowing his head._) + I do not know. + + SELMA-- You are just teasing me. + + OSWALD--Selma, listen to me. If our dear Lord, + Who died upon the tree that we might live, + Had meant that we should know what this thing means, + He would have told us. Let us show our faith. + Oh, let us say it as He taught us. Come, + Repeat it with me. "_Pater_--" (_Advancing toward her._) + Will you say it? + + SELMA--(_Skipping up the slope and disappearing through_ + _the boughs._) + I will not till you tell me what it means. + + (_Oswald stands as one who knows not what to do. + Along the path leading in from the left, + Father Paul, the friar, enters. For a time he + stands contemplating the scene before him._) + + FATHER PAUL--My son. Come now. Come now. The Lord Christ calls. + Delay is death. Give up this heathen world. + You cannot save her here. But there, who knows? + Prayer can do much. Go now and get the cross. + I shall wait for you in the grotto here. (_They go out, right._) + + _SCENE THREE--In the depths of the forest. Back through the + trees, to the right, is seen the home of Canzler, a small + cottage built of logs, with antlers over the doorway. It + sits in a space partially cleared, and the light falls + golden about it. Among the trees in the foreground, where + the shadows are thicker, is the stump of a large oak and a + newly fallen trunk extending out left. Over to the right, + at the foot of one of the trees, lies a small bundle + fastened to the end of a stick. At intervals a bird is + heard singing in the forest._ + + _Near the stump several men are gathered. Canzler, facing + right, stands beside the log with his hand resting upon + his ax. He is bareheaded. His sleeves are rolled up above + his elbows and his shirt, open in front, discloses his + broad, hairy breast. Near the stump stands Hartzel, a man + apparently seventy years of age. He wears a long, white + beard and his hands are folded on top of a tall rustic + staff. The others are Fritz and Rudolph and Wiglaf, the + gleeman, in a fantastic garb faded and tattered. On the + other side of the log, to the right of Canzler, is Max,_ + _another woodman, also in his shirt sleeves._ + + WIGLAF--Why did they burn my harp, then? I'm a man. + + FRITZ-- + + (_Leaning forward and speaking in a loud voice in + Hartzel's ear._) + + You hear what Wiglaf says? Says he's a man; + Why did they burn his harp, then? + + CANZLER-- No, Hartzel; + 'Tis not enough with them that we are men; + We must be Christians. + + WIGLAF-- That's it. + + CANZLER-- We must pray + The prayers the priests pray. We must go to church, + Chant when they chant and what they chant and be + Clay, as it were, upon their potter's-wheel. + 'Tis not enough the great All-father wrought + Us in his image; not enough to live + The honest life of man. We must submit + To be remolded to whatever shape + The potter-priest may give us. So we bear + His stamp and pray his prayers and wear the name + Christian-- + + FRITZ-- Then you can steal or-- + + CANZLER-- No, Hartzel; + Mass counts with them much more than manhood does. + + WIGLAF--Canzler's just right. Who ever heard of them + Injuring a man because his life was bad, + If his Faith was good? + + (_Hartzel puts his hand to his ear and looks at + Fritz._) + + FRITZ-- Who ever heard of them + Injuring a man because his life was bad, + If his Faith was good? (_Wiglaf listens to the bird._) + + HARTZEL-- I don't doubt that some would. (_Canzler touches him._) + + WIGLAF--The birds are free to sing Val-father's songs. + Wiglaf must sing the songs men bid him sing + Or have his tongue pulled out. + + CANZLER-- Speaking of Faith, + How can a good man have a bad Faith? Isn't + His life his Faith? + + HARTZEL-- Life his faith? Just so; but-- + But circumstances, Canzler. If we knew-- + + WIGLAF--He thinks I've been a scoundrel. + + HARTZEL-- I don't say. + I don't say that, for I don't know. + + WIGLAF-- Don't know! + + (_Back through the trees to the left, Selma is seen + going toward the cottage._) + + FRITZ-- (_Shouting in Hartzel's ear._) + He says you think he's been a scoundrel? Think + That's why they tried to kill him? + + HARTZEL--(_In amazement._) Why--why--no: + I did not hear, Wiglaf; your back was turned. + + SELMA-- (_Holding up her basket._) + I found them, Father. See? I said I would. + + WIGLAF--That island, Canzler, where they say our race + Rebuilt its kingdom, who knows aught of it? + + CANZLER--No word has reached us from that far off land. + + WIGLAF--It used to live in gleemen's songs, but now-- + + CANZLER--Old men recall it as a forgotten thing. + + (_Selma enters the cottage._) + + WIGLAF--In what sea lies it? + + CANZLER-- Where the Frankish land + Looks toward the setting Balder, I have heard. + + WIGLAF--And does this river off here empty near it? + + CANZLER--First flowing through wide forests and high rocks. + + (_Wiglaf walks to and fro thoughtfully._) + + HARTZEL--I don't doubt you've been wronged, Wiglaf. I don't + Doubt that they're arming. What I do say is + Who knows it is against us? + + WIGLAF-- Wait and see. + + HARTZEL--It may be they are mustering a host + To take the East again. Nigh forty years + Ago now, Frederic Red-beard--Canzler here + Remembers; he was young then--mustered + Nigh on to four score thousand, Canzler? + + CANZLER-- About. + + HARTZEL--And they were not against us. + + WIGLAF-- (_Taking up the bundle and starting right._) + Farewell, all. + + CANZLER--Where are you going, Wiglaf? + + WIGLAF-- There's no place + In all this land for Wiglaf. + + CANZLER-- Don't say that + While that roof stands. + + WIGLAF-- It won't stand long, Canzler. + + FRITZ-- (_Clenching his hands._) + 'Twill stand till he won't need it any more. + + WIGLAF--Wild deer shall listen and no foot be heard. + + CANZLER--Have you forgotten your inspired word? + + (_Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances._) + + WIGLAF--But centuries may pass ere that child comes. + + (_Selma comes from the cottage and begins to gather + dry leaves and chips about the doorway. She + is singing to herself and her voice comes + faintly through the trees._) + + CANZLER--Or in these hard days have you, too, lost faith + In Woden? + + WIGLAF--Wiglaf lose faith in Woden! + O chief! + + (_Looking down._) + + What shall Wiglaf say? Shall the skald, + Whose eye sees through the darkness, see no light? + Beyond the winter see no spring, beyond + The storm, no calm? (_He starts away._) + + CANZLER-- Stay here with us, Wiglaf. (_Selma enters the cottage._) + + WIGLAF--Lose faith in Woden when the north wind blows? + Think the trunk dead because the boughs are bare? + Shall the bloom live forever, and the seed + Not swell and break its pod and find the earth? + Val-father sows and reaps and sows again. + Our race has come to harvest, and the hands + Of southern reapers have laid low the tribes, + Bound them in sheaves and stacked them far away + And threshed them out on many a bloody field. + + CANZLER--And the war-maidens have gleaned heroes there. + + WIGLAF--Gleaned them and sown them in the earth again. + The years fall white upon the silent tribes. + Val-father's winter locks them in the ground. + + (_Looking up at the trees._) + + But O, O chief, these, too, were once down there. + + CANZLER--The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout. + + (_Fritz bows his head and walks back among the + trees._) + + RUDOLPH-- (_From a pent-up heart._) + Shall it, Wiglaf? + + CANZLER-- The bare North shall be green. + + WIGLAF--Be red. + + CANZLER-- Wiglaf! + + WIGLAF-- The young leaves come out red. + As one who puts his ear against a door + + (_He gets down and puts his ear to the earth._) + + And hears within a noise of armed men, + I hear the washing of Val-father's waves + Rushing from Naastrand where their bodies lie + Piled on the dark shore where the ships come not. + + CANZLER--Bringing them back. + + WIGLAF--(_Rising._) With shock of arms, O chief, + The breaking of the bark. + + CANZLER-- Then comes the leaf. + + WIGLAF--Red from the breaking of-- + + CANZLER-- It shall be green. + + WIGLAF--Bragi is singing the white years away. (_He goes out right._) + + CANZLER--We may be few, Wiglaf, but-- + + MAX-- Stay with us. + + WIGLAF--He beckons from that island in the sea. + Wiglaf must go where Bragi calls. + + CANZLER-- Oh, say + "Hail," to that kindred land! + + (_He drops his ax against the log._) + + From us say "Hail!" + + (_Stepping past the stump._) + + Oh, if you find them holding up the North, + Oh, tell them, Wiglaf, to keep iron hearts! + Say that the ancient trunk of Wittikind + Shows a green sprout! Say all the North is green! + + RUDOLPH--Go with us to the mountains! + + FRITZ-- Stay and die! + + CANZLER--Or say--say, Wiglaf, say--it shall be green! + + (_Smoke is seen curling above the roof of the + cottage._) + + HARTZEL--I did not say he was a scoundrel. Eh? (_To Rudolph._) + Did I? Did I, Max? (_Calling to Canzler._) + Where is he going? + I don't doubt he's been wronged; I don't doubt that. + Where's he-- + + (_Fritz comes forward._) + + RUDOLPH (_To Max._)--We must leave here. + + FRITZ-- We must stay here. + + (_In Hartzel's ear._) + + He says we, too, must leave here. + + HARTZEL-- Leave? What for? + What have we done? + + FRITZ-- But I say stay and die. + Let them thresh us out, too. (_To Max._) What do you say? + + RUDOLPH--What do you say, Max? + + MAX-- I say stay and live. + They cannot kill us. + + RUDOLPH-- How so? + + MAX-- If they do, + They must kill Oswald, too. Then where's the child? + + (_Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances._) + + Where then's Val-father's promised child? + + FRITZ-- Max-- + + RUDOLPH-- No. + + CANZLER-- (_Returning to the stump._) + The question, Hartzel, is not what they've done; + It's what they think they have a right to do. + They own, they think, our bodies and our brains. + There is no thing or thought or word or deed + Can take its way, but must report to them + And square itself and do a bondman's work. + They have a right, they think, to chop the North, + Lop off her great green boughs and graft instead + The South's pale branches. + + FRITZ-- To bear bastard fruit. + + CANZLER--The oak's red blood must nourish olive leaves. + They would remake the world Val-father made + And take the seasons from his great right hand. + We must be like them or be not at all. + Like them in manhood, Hartzel? + + FRITZ-- No; in Faith. + And even their gods know not the Saxon tongue. + + RUDOLPH--If a man speak Val-father's name, he dies. + + MAX--And we must die if we be not baptized. + + FRITZ--Must even ask of them what we may eat! + + CANZLER--Why is it not enough to be a man? + To do a man's work and to live a life + Free like the wild deer, and to grow like these? + + (_He looks about upon the trees._) + + You, Hartzel, have lived longer than we have + And you have seen more seasons, and you know + In father Woden's forests how the trees + Grow as they will, acknowledging no lord + But him who made them to be lordless, and + Obeying no law save that law that bids + Each be itself and bring forth its own fruit. + In all the populous forests of this world + There is no tyrant tree that lifts its head + Above the rest and says, "Obey my law." + For each tree hath its own law in itself, + And no tree hears another, but each hears + The voice of father Woden in the loam + Laying the law of selfhood on each seed. + The seed bursts and the law starts toward the sky. + The acorn lays it softly on the oak, + The chestnut on the chestnut, and the pine + Upon the loftiest mountain hears its cone + Whispering with father Woden in the air, + Learning the law it taketh to the ground. + Thus by that law that each tree be itself, + This forest hath become a stalwart state, + A nation governed by one law, a vast + Green kingdom of ten thousand happy trees + With father Woden monarch in the boughs. + The law of selfhood is the law of trees; + Who says the law of sameness governs man? + Because the South has not the girth of trunk + To bear Val-father's weight upon its boughs, + Must he climb down from ours and let the South + Climb up and with its law bind leaf and limb? + Did he, who made these oaks to grow and spread + Their branches, make our branching minds to be + Pinched to a point and put inside a ring? + + HARTZEL--But they say that they got that ring from some + God that once came down-- + + CANZLER-- From their southern skies? + Who gave the southern cypress mouth to speak + Val-father's law unto the northern pine? + God, do you say, come down to bind men? _God?_ + A _God_ that _binds?_ (_Looking up at the trees._) + I see no ring on these. + + FRITZ--Loki is a smith. He made their ring. + + CANZLER--Where in our northern sagas will you find + A track of any shackle-bearing god? + In all the past has any such a god + Come down the northern sky? All round the walls + Of Midgard stand the Asas guarding man + Against whatever brings bonds. + + (_Selma comes from the cottage with a bucket._) + + FRITZ-- Sons of Lok. + + CANZLER--The southern gods may bring down shackles, but + The northern hammer breaks the shackles off. + + SELMA-- (_From back among the trees._) + I'm going after water, Father. + + CANZLER--And one shall come to take that hammer up. + + MAX--The Asas walk the walls of Midgard still. + + (_Selma goes out left._) + + RUDOLPH --Val-father made the mountain rocks to be + The bastions of the oppressed. + + FRITZ-- He made the grave. + + (_He sits down on the log and takes his head + between his hands._) + + CANZLER--"In him shall be the strength of all your dead." + No, Hartzel; as Fritz says, their ring was wrought + Far in the south at that old fire that burns + Eternal mid the hills. Of old they forged + Law for our fathers, and, with iron hands, + Welded it on them. For five hundred years + The noise of that old furnace filled the world, + And from her red mouth link on link her hands + Drew one continuous shackle, and the North + Walked heavily, until Val-father's spear + Flashed southward. Then the noise stopped. The great beast, + That wore for head and neck those seven hills, + Roused her and saw her whelps come bleeding back + And heard wild Tyr holloing the tribes for dogs + Round her on every side, and rose at bay + And clawed through bloody foam and ceased and saw + Her hills go round and round and with a crash + Stretched her vast skeleton over all the south. + + HARTZEL--Then she is dead. + + CANZLER-- Rome dead? + + HARTZEL-- If she is bones. + + CANZLER---Bones, Hartzel, are not dead. The life returns. + The ghastly thing moves in the silent night + When swords are sleeping and the ear hears not. + Old hands scratch round old battle-fields and there + The skulls that wore the helmet don the hood, + And when the morning breaks no man will say. + "The thing that stands there is the thing that fell." + Our father found it so. For after that + Great hunt down in the south, the tribes lay down + And slept and woke and saw--they knew not what. + It wore a sword, but had no hauberk on. + 'Twas robed in black and on each shoulder sat + What seemed an eagle in a vulture's plumes. + They, too, thought bones were dead, and seeing no + Mark of their swords upon it nor anywhere + The indenture of those old hills in the south, + They showed it all the paths among the tribes. + + FRITZ--Welcomed it to their homes. + + MAX-- And took its ring. + + RUDOLPH--And then lay down and slept and never woke. + + CANZLER--If Rome is dead, whence all these harried lands, + Wigmodia and the Phalias, East and West? + + RUDOLPH--There, even to this day, the clay is red. + + CANZLER--If Rome is dead, what is this thing that now + On hands and knees creeps on us toward the north + Gathering flesh for its bones as it comes? + + HARTZEL--Most of them have gone over to their Faith. + + CANZLER--Most of them? Most of them lie, as Wiglaf says, + Piled on the dark shore where the ships come not. + + FRITZ--Between the ring and sword they chose the sword. + + CANZLER--What is this thing that says, "Accept this Faith," + But the same thing that to our fathers said, + "Accept this Law"? It is the same old Rome. + The snake hath cast her skin but not her fangs. + Witness the rivers red. Witness the charred + Track of the dragon and these silent lands. + Has she not gathered flesh? Has she not clothed + Her limbs and filled her bowels with the North? + Climb to the clouds and call the Saxon race + And who will answer? Silence. + + RUDOLPH-- And the streams + Moaning and hurrying red waves to the sea. + + CANZLER--There is a day that would but cannot die. + That day-- + + MAX AND RUDOLPH--At Verden. + + CANZLER-- When our fathers died + Unarmed, defenceless, butchered, Hartzel. + Ah, that day hides her face among the years + But cannot hide her hand. Val-father has-- (_Closing his fingers._) + Her wrist in his grasp and holds that hand aloft + To drip and rouse the North, and it shall drip + Till Ragnarok shall swallow it up at last + And vomit it out to bleed forevermore. + Four thousand and five hundred in one day! + Till set of sun, all day the axes swang, + And when night fell the Aller's waters slipped + Thick through the headless bodies in her bed. + Oh, for once more a day like Dachtelfeld! (_He turns away._) + + RUDOLPH--Val-father's spear shall flash again, Canzler. + There shall a horn wind that shall rouse the tribes + And strew those bones again. + + FRITZ-- Let's wind it now. + + HARTZEL (_To Canzler._)--Do you think we should leave here? + + RUDOLPH-- Yes. + + FRITZ-- No. + + MAX-- No. + Our Wittikind shall come and-- + + CANZLER-- They shall hear + The North's great hammer ringing round the world. + Max, you tell Conrad that we meet to-night. + Have Herman come. (_Max goes out left._) + And, Rudolph, you go down-- + + HARTZEL-- (_Touching, him with his staff_.) + Canzler, you said just now the point was not + What they have done. + + CANZLER-- Nor is it. + + HARTZEL-- Then why this + Summoning of the men? Are we to have war? + + (_Fritz and Rudolph, talking together, walk back + among the trees._) + + CANZLER--Hartzel, the past and present are two limbs + On one tree. Though the one bears withered leaves + And these on this around us here are green, + The trunk is the same; the sap is the same; + The new fruit is the old fruit. What to-day + Is Wiglaf fleeing to the ocean isles + But the whole Saxon race? What is his harp + In ashes but our homes and all this land? + Are those graves yonder old? Were these, our scars, + + (_Opening his bosom._) + + Handed down from our fathers? When we start + Alarmed in the night, is it the past we fear? + There is no past to things that have been dead. + It is a scabbard empty of its sword. + What shall we do? Accept their Faith? + + HARTZEL-- No, no. + + CANZLER--Without it, we must steal the air we breath + And thank Val-father if we get it then. + Their blades are out; shall we not lift our shields? + Wolves are we? Wolves are not hunted so. + Bears have the caves; must our cave be the grave? + There is no room there. How then can we die? + After his great meal, Death hath lain him down. + Famine, the gleaner, has the field. There is + No plot unreaped, no sheaf unflailed. The barns + Are stuffed to breaking with the dead. And we, + In this great carnage, in this harvest-home, + The last few straws whisked from the threshing-floor, + Hunted by that old Hunger of the south + From field to wood, from wood to darker wood, + Far up strange rivers and--down under them-- + Hartzel, remember; when we fall, there goes + Down the whole North. We alone stand. Of all + Val-father's oaks, there's but one acorn left + That can re-forest and make green the North. + Rudolph and you and I and the rest, save one, + Are, as it were, its protecting shell. Off there, + A sword is coming toward us, and shall we + With hands down take the point and hear the unborn + Wail of that child that should have filled the north + With shouts and wound his horn upon its hills? + Behind him, in array, the dead tribes come + On fire for the south; their umbered shields + Upon the gunwales lour; and shall the snake + Swallow the haven where that host must land? + See the North die? Never. (_He turns as if to call Rudolph._) + + HARTZEL--Accept their Faith, + We need not. + + CANZLER--Die? + + HARTZEL--We need not. (_A pause._) We might flee. + + CANZLER-- (_Emphatically._) + Canzler will never vote to flee. + + FRITZ-- Hear that? + Canzler will never vote to flee. (_Coming forward._) + Nor Fritz, chief. + + CANZLER--Where could we flee? + + FRITZ-- We have already fled. + + CANZLER--No. + + (_Hartzel turns and, with his face to the ground, + walks slowly left._) + + RUDOLPH--Canzler, listen to me. + + (_Unnoticed, Conrad appears coming through the + trees on the right. Several young squirrels + hang from the belt about his waist and in + his right hand is a cross-bow. Upon his left + shoulder he carries the crucifix which he has_ + _pulled up, post and all._) + + CANZLER-- The red ax + They swung at Verden swings clear round the North + And her great head falls. + + (_With a jolt Conrad sets the crucifix down and + leans it against one of the large trees._) + + Where did that come from? + + CONRAD--Over on the road; by the bridge. + + (_Canzler goes toward it. Fritz quickly says + something to Rudolph. The latter walks lack + in the rear._) + + RUDOLPH-- (_As if to draw him away._) + Canzler, here. + + CONRAD--There was a sheep's pelt lying in the bank-- + + (_With a motion._) + + Down here where we could kneel to it. + + HARTZEL-- (_Coming back._) + What is it? + + CONRAD--It is the Christians' Irminsul. They chop + Ours down to put theirs up. + + RUDOLPH-- Canzler. + + FRITZ-- The men + That followed Wiglaf must have put it up. + + CONRAD--They're closing round us, Canzler, every day. + If you say stay and fight through, for my part-- + + (_Suddenly Canzler turns and looks Conrad full in + the face._) + + I know I did, but if the rest say stay-- + + (_After looking tip at the crucifix again, Canzler + turns slowly and walks away left._) + + What is the matter? + + (_When near the stump, Canzler again glances back; + then drops his head and walks on among the + trees. Conrad turns to Fritz._) + + What is the matter? + + HARTZEL-- (_Apologetically, following him._) + Canzler, I hope I have said nothing. I-- + I did not mean flee--in that sense. (_Canzler goes out._) + I meant + Leave. + + (_He goes out. The men stand looking after them. + Rudolph comes forward._) + + FRITZ--This will break Canzler's heart. + + CONRAD-- What? + + RUDOLPH-- (_Pointing to the crucifix._) + Oswald. + + FRITZ--We tried to keep it from him. + + RUDOLPH-- Selma, too. + + FRITZ--Canzler must never tell her. + + CONRAD-- Where is he? + + RUDOLPH--No one has seen him since last night when Fritz-- + + FRITZ--I saw him with the pelt-- + + RUDOLPH-- (_Quickly._) + Here comes Canzler. + + (_The men assume an expression of unconcern._) + + CONRAD-- (_Aloud._) + Whatever Canzler says. If he says stay-- + + (_Canzler appears among the trees. He stops and + looks off through the forest to the right, + and his brow darkens._) + + FRITZ--And brought it out from town and put it up. + + (_Rudolph lifts up the squirrels at Conrad's belt._) + + CONRAD--There were not many in the woods to-day. + + CANZLER-- (_Coming forward and giving his orders hastily._) + Rudolph, you and Fritz go summon the men. + Go with them, Conrad. + + (_Fritz glances off through the forest, right._) + + RUDOLPH-- That we meet to-night? + + CANZLER--This afternoon. Be quick. (_The men start back left._) + + FRITZ--(_Huskily._) Oswald. (_Conrad glances right._) Oswald. + + (_Rudolph glances right, and the three go out in + silence. Canzler, who has stepped left, + stands in the shadow of one of the trees. A + little later Oswald appears coming through + the trees to the right. He is looking about as_ + _if in search of something._) + + CANZLER-- (_Firmly, but without passion._) + There, there it is. Take it, take it and go. + + OSWALD--(_Downcast, stammering._) I-- + + CANZLER--(_Lifting his hand._) No word. + + (_Oswald moves slowly to the tree, takes the + crucifix upon his shoulder, and, with bowed + head, goes off right._) + + SELMA--(_Calling from the left._) Oswald! + + (_The girl enters with her water. She stops, looks + after Oswald until he has disappeared, + then turns with a questioning look to her + father._) O father! + + CANZLER-- As for me, + Let a man be a man. Outside of that, + There is no power on earth that dares ask more; + No power in heaven that will. + + (_He turns and goes back toward the cottage._) + + SELMA--(_With a sigh, looking right._) Oswald, Oswald. + + + + +ACT TWO. + + + _SCENE ONE--A forest on the mountain tops, the great trees + glooming with the shadows of nightfall. In the distance, + between the dark boles, patches of sky with the fading + light of evening. The scene slopes down into a clump of + tangle-wood on the left. Up the slope, upon a stump that + stands out from among the trees, Selma is sitting with + her head bowed, her face almost hidden by her hair which + has fallen forward across her shoulders. She is dressed + in dappled fawn-skin. In her hand she has a spray of + dog-wood blossoms from which she is thoughtlessly tearing + the leaves. From the thicket below, three fairies steal in + one after another, having in their hands wild-flowers and + ferns._ + + _TIME--Early spring, three years later._ + + FIRST FAIRY-- (_Running a little way up the slope and stopping._) + Sister, see! (_Holding forth her flowers._) Kingcups! + + SECOND FAIRY--(_Running closer._) Sister, see, I bring + The laced fern. + + THIRD FAIRY--(_Running still closer._) See, see! Violets, sister! + I found them waking in an open place + Where the dew falls. (_Together they approach the stump._) + + SECOND FAIRY--(_Softly._) Sister! + + THIRD FAIRY-- Flowers, sister. + + (_The first stoops down and looks up into Selma's + face. The others whisper together. From the + thicket below, two other fairies enter._) + + FOURTH FAIRY--(_Stopping._) Hark, how it tinkles! + + FIFTH FAIRY--It's the dew falling. (_They hurry up the slope._) + + FIRST FAIRY--(_Rising quickly._) Her eyes are wet! + + SECOND AND THIRD--(_To fourth and fifth._) Her eyes are wet! + + FOURTH FAIRY-- Sister, + Anemones are opening in the wind. + + FIFTH FAIRY--And every pink is jeweled in the fells. + + FIRST FAIRY--And here are buttercups. + + THIRD FAIRY-- And violets. + + SECOND FAIRY-- (_Stooping._) + See, sister, here I bring the first frilled fern. + I found it where the dashing water-fall + Sprayed it. It was uncurling near a rock. + + SELMA-- (_Without looking up._) + I do not like you, for you will not tell. + + (_The fairies start and exchange glances._) + + FIRST FAIRY--Oh, see the dew-globes break upon the moss! + + (_She runs back a little way among the trees. + The others follow her and they talk among + themselves._) + + SECOND FAIRY--Where is he now? + + THIRD FAIRY-- He is making his way + To his cold dark cell in the cold dark house + Where the lizards dart and the crickets call. + + FIRST FAIRY--I heard the grind of his wooden shoe + On the mountain road; but she must not know. + + FOURTH FAIRY--We stood in the pines and we saw him pass, + A thin white shadow she would not know. + + FIFTH FAIRY--And, sisters, he turned his face to the stars + And we heard him sigh. + + FOURTH FAIRY-- And we heard him sigh. + + THIRD FAIRY--It must be, it must be, for he cannot see. + + FIRST FAIRY--He cannot see till he sees no more. + + SELMA-- (_As before._) + You said he would come when the dog-wood bloomed. + + SECOND FAIRY--Oh, see them! + + THIRD FAIRY-- See the fairies! + + (_They all look up the slope._) + + FIRST FAIRY-- Round they go, + In their ringlets whirling, whirling. + + FOURTH FAIRY--At every sparkle racing through the wood, + From crottle, kingcup, and green maiden-hair + In dainty gowpens fetch the dewy globes + And slide them down the sagging gossamers + To light them in the dance. + + (_They glance toward the stump. Seeing that they + have not succeeded in attracting Selma's + attention, they take hands and circle toward + her singing._) + + _Hark the bracken rustle, sister._ + _Other elves are awaking, peeping,_ + _While the cowslip buds are weeping_ + _On the downs and in the dells._ + _Trip it softly, softly, sister,_ + _Lest the stock-dove, lightly sleeping,_ + _Wake and hear our fairy bells._ + + (_After circling round the stump and seeking in + every way to induce her to join them, one + of them tries gently to take the spray of + dog-wood blossoms from her hand._) + + SELMA--(_Calling aloud._) Father! + + FIRST FAIRY--Oh, smell the wood pinks! They are waking now. + + SECOND FAIRY--The bees are stirring in the gum. + + THIRD FAIRY-- O sisters, + I know a brake where the brown quails sleep. + Let's tip the leaves and let the star-light on them. + + (_Four of them run up the slope one after another + and each in turn as she disappears among the + trees glances back and calls to Selma._) + + FIRST FAIRY--Sister! + + SECOND FAIRY-- Sister! + + THIRD FAIRY-- Sister! + + FOURTH FAIRY-- Sister! + + (_The fifth fairy stands for a time looking after + the others, then comes to the stump and sits + down at Selma's feet._) + + FIFTH FAIRY-- Sister, + If you will come and play, I'll show you slim + Young heath-bells in the dingle. Won't you, if + We take you where may-apples grow and pinks + Bend with their fairy mirrors on the moss? + + VOICE-- (_From the thicket below._) O sister! + + (_The fairy starts up and skips down the slope._) + + SELMA-- (_Without looking up._) + Three times it has bloomed and he does not come. + + SIXTH FAIRY-- (_Entering hurriedly from the thicket._) + We were floating along on the river mist + And saw them creep up the mountain side-- + + SEVENTH FAIRY-- (_Entering._) + And heard them plotting and heard them say: + "We will throw him down, we will throw him down." + + SIXTH FAIRY--We called in his ear, but he did not hear, + + (_The seventh starts up the slope toward Selma._) + + FIFTH FAIRY--Oh, do not tell her! Oh, do not tell! + + SEVENTH FAIRY--They will throw him down! They will throw him down! + + FIFTH FAIRY--Oh, catch him with delicate hands as he falls + Into the mist and-- + + SIXTH FAIRY-- Save him! + + SEVENTH FAIRY-- Save him! + + FIFTH FAIRY--And I will run to the mountain cave. + + (_The two fairies hasten out through the thicket, + the fifth disappears back among the trees, + left. Singing is heard up the slope. A moment + later, a number of fairies circle in with + green boughs in their hands._) + + _On the downs and in the dells._ + _Trip it softly, softly, sister,_ + _Lest the stock-dove, lightly sleeping,_ + _Wake and hear our fairy bells._ + + FIRST FAIRY--Oh, something black tumbled into the mist! + + SECOND FAIRY--And something bright--what was it, sister? + + FIRST FAIRY--A star, I think; it glanced and fell. + + THIRD FAIRY--Sister, it flashed like a silver cross. + + FOURTH FAIRY--And plopped into the brook. Did you see the ripples + Glitter in the moon? + + SECOND FAIRY-- O sisters, see! + The will-o'-the-wisps rush down the valley fogs, + Their white veils trailing round the tall dark crags. + + (_They hurry down the mountain. Selma, startled, + gets off the stump and runs a little way back + in the wood and, stopping, looks after them._) + + VOICE OF CANZLER-- (_Up the slope._) + Where are you, child? (_He enters._) + Why do you stand out here + In darkness? + + SELMA--They have gone away again. + + CANZLER-- (_Who waits till she comes near him._) + Do not ask anything to stay, my child. + Where the leaf goes the tree goes, and the rocks + Flow away with the waters to the sea. + + (_They go up the slope together._) + + SELMA--He does not come and they will not tell. + + (_She stops and looks back._) + + CANZLER--Let us go home and watch the stars come out + Above the mountains where Val-father lives. + Perhaps the Norns will spin us a white thread. + + (_They go out, Selma looking back._) + + + _SCENE TWO--A mountain cavern with jutting ledges of rock. + From the bones that lie about, one would imagine it to be + a den to which wild beasts drag and devour their prey. To + the right, a vine, growing out of the crevice in the rear + wall, shows by its leaves becoming a darker green as it + spreads to the right that the entrance is in that direction_ + _and near by. Bowlders, evidently used for seats, lie here + and there, and in the rear, center, a smouldering fire + throws their shadows about the floor and walls. Several_ + _willow baskets freshly woven hang on pegs driven into + seams in the rocks. To the left, an old spinning wheel with + a thread trailing from it, and near it, upon the floor, a + quantity of black wool. Farther over in the corner, a couch + of rushes and forest grass. From the ledge that projects + out over it hang bunches of dry herbs. In the left wall, + extending to the ceiling and barely wide enough to admit + of one's passing through, is a cleft whence are heard at + intervals the muffled sound of hammers far down in the + earth._ + + _To the right of the fire, Sigurd, the dwarf, is peeling + osiers. He is barefooted. About his neck he wears a string + of buckeyes. Beside him, upon the floor, lies a pile of + white osiers newly peeled. Occasionally he takes the withes + in his mouth and tears the bark off with his teeth. On the_ + _other side of the fire, reclining upon his elbow, the gnome_ + _Kilo is poking the coals with a stick._ + + _Despite the red glow of the fire, the cave is quite dark._ + + KILO--Love the monks, eh? + + VOICE--(_To the left._) Kilo! + + KILO-- Granny says you do. + + VOICE--Kilo! + + KILO--Hush! I'm tired. + + VOICE--Loki wants you. (_After a pause._) Kilo! + + KILO-- (_To himself._) + Call on; Kilo don't care. It's sweat and drudge + And puff and hammer the livelong day + At the blazing forge, and then all night + The big black sledges swing and fall. + I'm tired. You love the bells? + + VOICE-- Kilo! You hear? + + KILO-- + Dumb, are you, elf-brat? You squealed loud enough + The night that Granny found you on the moss + White as a hail-stone, thunder-whelped, and cold. + "Tweakle! tweakle!" Elf-cub, are you? + + VOICE-- Kilo! + + KILO-- (_Out of temper._) + Tell him I've gone with Granny. + + (_From the left Zip enters. Under his arm he + carries a great sword, the blade of which he is + burnishing with a piece of sand-stone._) + + ZIP-- Where is she? + + KILO--Darkening the moon. + + ZIP-- Is to-night the time? + + KILO-- (_With a look warning him of the presence of the dwarf._) + Got the runes cut on it? + + (_Zip hands the sword to Kilo and goes over and + stands near the vine. Kilo examines the + curiously wrought haft._) + + ZIP-- Listen! + + KILO-- (_Sitting up._) What is it? (_They listen._) + + ZIP--The geese are out. + + KILO--(_To the dwarf._) Hear that, gozzard? Do you? + + ZIP--Hark! Hissing, they go down the mountain side + With flip-flap of their big grey wings. + (_He returns toward the fire._) Last night + The monks' new hunter wrung two ganders' necks. + I found their heads in the grotto. + + KILO--(_Poking the dwarf with the sword._) Hear that, lob? + You herd the goslets for the holy men? + Next thing you'll grind the scauper for the monk, + And help him carve the cross. Granny'll get you. + + ZIP--Where's Suk and Gimel? + + KILO-- Digging water-herbs + Down in the marsh. (_He rises and the two walk left._) + 'Twas said to throw him off. + The young imp shoots his ears out like a snail + To feel about for danger to the monks. + If he should hear the gnomes are out for blood, + You'd see him, he'd be footed like a hare + To put the monk on guard. + + (_From the right, Zory enters. He crooks his back, + screens his eyes with his hand, and walks + feebly._) + + ZORY-- "O dear! my eyes! + Rosa, is the moon up, dear?" Ha, ha! Zory! Zory! + + (_He takes up the sword from the floor, and using + it as a cane, walks unsteadily._) + + ZIP--Steal into the abbey, will they? + + KILO-- No, no. + He's down in the village. At break of day + I saw the blur of his big black gown + In the mountain mists as he made his way. + To-night he will come from the little town. + Then Suk and Gimel--the road runs by + Where some wild vines dangle. + (_As though jerking them._) And far below, + The waters gurgle. + + ZORY-- They will? Ho, ho! + + KILO-- (_Huskily, nodding toward the dwarf._) + The spy of Woden. + + ZORY--(_Dropping his voice._) If that's the plan, + Then the old dame with her gimlet eye + Sees farther than Woden's ravens can. + At dusk I crept over behind the town. + Some boys were up on the mountain side + Running a cow they were driving down, + With puff-balls pelting her brindled hide. + On a slope of heather I knew a sink + Where a brown backed bunny was wont to squat, + To warm his fur in the sun and wink + At the shadows darkening a cabbage plot. + Says I: "Now Zory will have some fun. + He'll start the hare for the village boys + And hear them hollo and see them run." + With barking of dogs and a hue and a cry + They will soon be off, and, flying the noise, + Wat will go bobbing across the down. + I'm off for the heather when lo, I hear, + Behind the sallows that fringe the foss, + A sneeze and a sigh and then, "O dear!" + Some women are trying to get across. + I hide in the dock. The dames pass by + With baskets of bennet. I hear one say: + "With our dear Lord hanging upon the tree, + And oh, such a beautiful, beautiful cross + No one ever saw, so the people say + Who have peered in the window. And think, la me! + In another day and another day + My every prayer will have been fulfilled. + May the Virgin spare us." The other sighs + And, scanning the shadowy mountain side: + "I fear he will never complete it, Clotilde. + He climbs that dreadful mountain at night. + Can you see him now? Oh, I fear, I fear + Those awful rocks where the devils hide! + It seems so dark. Rosa, is the moon up, dear?" + To see the old dame as she-- + (_Mimicing with the sword for a cane._) daddled on + With her skirt in her hand, through the dewy grass, + Her little whisket of herbs on her arm + To keep off the devils, and mumbling a mass + And snuffling and moaning and sighing, "O dear! + It's a wicked world." + + (_He laughs till he falls to the floor_ _where + he continues to laugh. Kilo steals to the fire + and_ _is about to snap a coal toward Zory when + Suk rushes in_ _right._) + + SUK--Granny! O Granny! + + ZIP AND KILO--What? + + SUK--Where's Granny? + + KILO-- On the peaks. + + SUK--(_Rushing left._) Loki! + + KILO--Stop him! + + SUK--(_Dodging past Zip._) Loki! + + KILO--Stop him, Zory! (_As he darts by, Zory, still upon_ + _the floor, catches the gnome about the legs._) What is it? + + ZIP--Over the cliff? + + SUK--(_Panting._) Over and over. His black gown-- + The wind puffs it--like a big bat + Swoops after him. + + ZORY--Whew! + + VOICE--(_Right._) Cock-a-doodle-doo! + + SUK--(_Breaking away._) Loki! + + (_He rushes out left, followed by the three other + gnomes. From the right Gimel enters._) + + GIMEL--Cock-a-doodle-doo! + The sun's up, Granny! Hear the cock! + His morning trumpet wakes the village up. + Cock-a-doodle-doo! + See the good people in their Sunday clothes. + A long procession up the mountain goes + With boughs of cypress and boughs of yew. + And now the big bell in the abbey tower + T-o-l-l-s and it t-o-l-l-s and it t-o-l-l-s. + Cock-a-doodle-doo! + What makes the big bell + Sob in its tower? Can any one tell? + Why, the monk that pulls at the rope, I ween. + Cock-a-doodle-doo! + + (_He follows the others through the narrow passage, + left. A moment later, from the opposite side, + a fairy appears and beckons to the dwarf. The + latter, after a quick glance to the left, + stealthily takes up the sword from the floor + and follows the fairy from the cave._) + + + _SCENE THREE--The monastery of St. Giles, in the mountains._ + _An open court, with buildings dimly seen in the darkness. + To the right, the dormitory, a large structure built of + stone, with high, deep-set windows protected by heavy + shutters which are closed. Across the court a high wall, + starting in front, extends back some fifteen feet and abuts + the side of the chapel before which in outline long stone + steps may be discerned. In the center of the wall is an + archway with a pair of ponderous iron gates. The night is + dark and windy._ + + _Along the side of the dormitory comes old Andrew with a + staff and lighted taper. He is singing in a low voice._ + + ANDREW--_The barque o' the moon, like the Ithican's ship,_ + _Heigho, she's swamped on the sea,_ + _With her big bags of wind_-- + + (_Turning the corner and meeting the wind._) Hey! + + Up, lads! Swell your bellies, sails! Now we're for't! + + (_His candle threatening to go out, he draws back. + For a while he stands as if perplexed. Then, + rounding the corner, he again turns his + shoulder to the wind and, shielding his taper + thus, moves sidewise across the court toward + the chapel._) + + Puff, devils, puff, puff! Howl and snap! howl and snap! + You'll scare old Andrew, will you? By the saints, + I'll have this taper in the chapel sconce + In spite of all your snarling. + + (_He throws down his staff and shields his taper + with his gown._) Blow! blow! blow! + + Here's a monk's soul borne to the Virgin's arms + Across a strip of Hell. D'you want to leap + Out of this greasy world? Out with you, then! + Here's a fine night to jump in, wind and moon, + Roar and the scud of swollen water-bags. + Jump, jump, soul! Swounds, here's a coward for you; + Here's a tallow-swad that loves swine's belly + Better'n the big deep. Shrift, eh? shrift and housel? + _Primum confessum_, foul monk. Gluttony. (_The taper flickers._) + Yip! See the devils pluck at him! Quick, priest; + St. Giles will lose a lamb. If I damn one, + I damn them all; damn the Abbot; damn Andrew. + Flesh is flesh. _Absolvo te. Secundum._ + Bibbing, eh? Vap or burgundy? Vap? + That's a vile sin; but vap is hell enough. + _Quid tertio?_ (_He puts his ear to the taper._) + St! lower; the Devil's listening. (_Starting._) + Whee! Bless the saints! God must have gold for that. + No gold? No gold, no shrift. And here's old Claw-foot + Coming through the dark, that needs a furnace tender, + A skimmer for his bullion pots. Gramercy, monk. + No wench-craft there nor bibbing, soft bells and venison. + Limbs hot, hot lungs, hot belly, everything-- + (_The taper goes out._) Puff! + Down over the big, windy world. Good jump; + Clean to the pit. (_Thunder._) + Ay, night, smack your black chaps. + Rumble! rumble! + + (_He feels about the ground for his staff, and, + having found it, walks back and stands under + one of the windows of the dormitory._) Soloman! + Soloman! + + The Devil wants you. D'you hear? His pipe's gone out. + Give him a coal. + + (_He waits a while, then beats upon the shutter + with his staff. A low voice is heard within._) + + What's that? Eh? + + VOICE-- Who is it? + Lucifer? + + ANDREW--Ay, with his light out. + (_After a pause._) Come, come! + I'll have to cut a reed and suck the stars + Like the big fool you told of. + + (_The shutter opens and the head of Soloman + appears._) + + Light, light, man! (_Soloman whispers._) + Pipe out, cricket. Here's the big noisy winds + Roarin' in my ears. (_Soloman whispers and points to the corner._) + Prowling? A night like this! + Turned wolf, eh? There's a fine porker gone. + Louis and he were at their wassail cups, + Nuzzling a stoup o' hipo' a while ago. (_He comes toward the corner._) + God bless you, senechal, another stoup. + Swine-herd, all-hail! Fill up the Abbot's trough. + An he breaks sty, look out! God bless us then! + Water and bread, water and bread. Zooks, zooks! + The devil's up with Andrew if he finds + The oratory dark. (_He listens._) Otho! Spot! Hya! Hya! + There's something snooping here. + + (_He crosses himself._) I'll get a light + + And bustle from this place. It's the Devil + Walking on wool. (_He turns back toward the window._) + Water and bread. Sfoot, sfoot! + The sheep will find thin food on Andrew's grave. + Light, man, light! It's the bats hurtling. + (_Soloman disappears._) There's a chinch + That burrows in the vellum like a mole, + A parchment moth what can spin yarn or yarn + Like the old dame i' the tale. He reads and reads. + He's got a wit strung like a rosary thread + With tales and names and things and things and things. + Tell me a tale, says I, something valorous, + Something to lighten life for an old man. + Tales for tapers, says he. A go, says I. + And so I pilfers from the chapel sconce + The snuffed stubbs. To lighten life, says I. + + (_Soloman reappears with a lighted candle._) + + The lad that rode the dolphin, did he get + To land? + + SOLOMAN--He stayed upon the sea. + + ANDREW-- And drowned? + + SOLOMAN--Turned buccaneer and sacked the christian ships + And sold the spoil in Jewry. (_Andrew walks away._) + Don't you wish + To hear it? The tale goes on to tell + How Hugh de Bouillon, cruising in the East, + Found him upon a cliff and took him down + From off a gibbet where the sea-gulls flew, + And with his harp upon the deck at night + He made the sea-lads merry with his songs. + Let's have them now, here at the gates of heaven, + Far off from dead men crying in the sea. + + ANDREW--What makes the lightning go that way, zigzag? + + SOLOMAN--The Devil broke it on a gibbet-- + + ANDREW-- Tush! + + SOLOMAN--And hung it upon a sea-cliff. + + ANDREW--Tush, tush, lad! + Don't make game o' the old man. If he's bent, + It's with prayer. (_He comes back to the window._) + + SOLOMAN-- Sing me a sea-song. + + ANDREW-- It's too raw + A night, lad. + + (_He holds his taper up toward Soloman's, when + suddenly some one carrying a light appears at + the farther corner of the dormitory. Soloman + jerks back his candle._) + + Eh? It's Bill-o'-the-wisp! + God save us, man! Moving! It's a torch. + + (_The light passes behind the chapel. Andrew walks + back in the court._) + + How the wind blows! There's blood in it. Caw, rooks, + Chatter and caw. Villainy is abroad. + There's blood on the stones somewhere, fresh blood. + + (_He stands looking in the direction whence the + light disappeared._) + + It's the new deer-man fastening up the dogs. + He hunts in the night when the brockets o' the wood + Come to the stream to drink. And none to tell them + O' the foul spear. No abbot-stag to say-- + Standing to his belly in the stream-- + "Drink will be the death of you." It's a foul world. + + (_Returning toward the window._) + + The hunter's at the kennel wi' his pups. + What's his name? He's been here now a sennight. + + SOLOMAN--Macias. + + ANDREW-- Macias; that's a good name. + + SOLOMAN-- (_Giving Andrew a light._) + It's a lean name. + + ANDREW-- Lean name? Fat, man, fat. + An it was lean we'd have to cast our skins, + As the snakes do, and sleep at breakfast time. + I tell you, Soloman, there a hunter for you. + He's for a beast, he fronts it i' the dark, + Blazing its pretty orbs wi' his big torch. + His eye's a rook's eye and his spear as true + As the bolt o' the buskined hussy what you say + Drops from the moon i' the dead o' night and hunts + Naked i' the woods. She's a--I'm a monk, though. + An you could see him coming through the copse, + Shuffling the dews away, zooks, you would say + The burnt faced fellows of Libya were for sure + Making a revel feast for the big god. + The game! the game! Sweet, tender prickets, + Stags and chamois calves, pheasants and geese, + Turtles and loaches and toper horse-fish + Wi' fins as red as blood. God bless us, though. + An the Abbot finds the oratory dark, + There'll be thin food for sheep on Andrew's grave. + Water and bread. + + (_He starts toward the chapel, humming to himself._) + + SOLOMAN-- What's the song, Andrew? + + ANDREW-- Sh! + The Abbot hears me trill that heathen song, + I'll get no chick-weed. It's a foul song. + + (_He comes forward and looks round the corner of + the dormitory, then returns to the window._) + + A cricket chirped it from a chink i' the wall + As the old man dozed dreaming o' green fields, + Up there. (_He sings._) + _The grass is food for the ewe_ + _And the ewe is food for man_ + _And man is food for the green, green grass_ + _And the grass for the ewe again._ + The foul song makes goat's food of us all. + Old Andrew's shoots, gowan, and aigilops + For filthy goats to browse on. (_He starts away._) + Sfoot, I'll fast + 'Fore I'll be carried around in a goat's udder. + + (_Suddenly around the farther corner of the chapel + the light reappears. Soloman snatches-to the + shutter. Old Andrew blows out his taper and + gets down upon his knees by the wall. Macias, + the hunter, carrying a pine torch, comes + forward across the court._) + + ANDREW-- (_Telling his beads._) + _Adeste, sancti_; villainy is abroad. + + MACIAS-- (_Holding down his torch._) + Ay, monk, you're right. Are all the brothers in? + + ANDREW--_Abi_, fiend! Out with the sooty torch! + Old Andrew's prayers can fly to heaven i' the dark. + + MACIAS--I meant no harm, monk. I was passing by + And heard you say there's villainy abroad. + I thought perhaps you'd heard the blind bitch howl, + As I did, mournful. Did you? Did you hear her? + + ANDREW-- (_Looking up._) + Who breaks old Andrew's mass? Zooks, it's the Devil + Thrusting his grimy face through censer smoke. + + (_Turning to the wall._) + + _Adeste, sancti_; villainy is abroad. + + MACIAS-- (_Reflecting._) + It may have been in my dream. (_He walks out in the court._) + A few white stars + Still burned above the village. (_Looking up._) Not a star + In all the heavens. (_He returns right. Andrew has risen._) + Are all the brothers in? + + ANDREW--Up there behind the clouds? + + MACIAS-- Did you hear the howl? + + ANDREW--Ay, heard it in the pines. + + MACIAS-- The bitch, I mean. + + ANDREW--Carnus is dog. Bitch is a carnal thought. + I've been at prayer. + + MACIAS-- Within? + + ANDREW-- The prayer was in; + Andrew was out. + + MACIAS-- Here in the gale? How long? + + ANDREW--Till a soul jumps from the big windy world. + + MACIAS--Jumps from the world? Whose soul? + + ANDREW-- The monk's. + + MACIAS--(_Aside._) The monk's! + There, there it is, the howl of the hound! + Death has been here. + + ANDREW-- Shook and refused to jump + Till he was driven off. + + MACIAS-- What! Driven off? + + ANDREW--Ay, by the winds. + + MACIAS-- He died not in his cell? + + ANDREW--He died here by the wall. + + (_He walks back in the darkness._) + + MACIAS-- Monk, beat the brush; + I fear some crime is crouching in the dark. + + ANDREW--Ay, that there is; there's villainy abroad. + + (_He stands listening._) + + MACIAS--Why are you silent? Tell me how he died. + + (_Andrew returns gloomily and lights his taper at + the hunter's torch._) + + ANDREW--His soul was calm until it sniffed the gale + And saw the wild-fire grazing in the sky. + And then you should have seen him. When he heard + The roar of the wind and saw the lean moon + Rush through the clouds, tearing them with her horn, + Zooks, then he fluttered like a gull on a mast + When a big barque is poppling up and down + I' the foam. And all the while devils' grimy hands + Plucked at him through the dark. + + (_The hunter turns away mumbling to himself._) Eh? + Mad? You're right. + + An you'd a seen 'em you'd a said they're mad. + + MACIAS--Where will I find the Abbot? + + ANDREW-- Legions of them. + They'd seen me sponge him twice with a good shrift. + As soon as ever the third foul sin appeared, + They pounced him and pitched him down over the world + To where the big deep dashes up the sky + Spraying the stars of heaven. Down, down, down! + + (_He walks back in the court and stands listening._) + + Hear it? Blood on the stones, fresh blood. (_Calling._) Mother! + + MACIAS--Chattering to himself. It must be he, + The ancient acholyte they told me of. + Gray hairs and staff-- + + ANDREW-- Mother! + + MACIAS-- His ears are keen + From listening to the crickets in the stones, + Year after year. Jesu, that's a long time. + The eagles that were young upon the crags + When he came here are gray. God, fifty years! + For fifty years to watch the lizards spawn, + To feed them, name them, miss them then and see + In the green crevices of the old wall + Another brood come forth. Each rook that haunts + These musty gables here, he knows them all; + Knows every tomb-bat in the coffin'd crypt; + Can tell the spiders, where they cast their webs + In the dark corners, where and how and why; + The rere-mice, when they breed; the vermin--God! + Fifty long years, fifty! And all that time + To count the days like beads and feel them black! + I'd rather be a fox. I'd rather be-- + Never to have chased the chamois up the cliffs! + Never to have felt the thrill of stag at bay, + Or heard the pheasant in the wild brown brake + Whir! (_Walking right._) I'd rather be a chipmunk free to-- + + ANDREW--You got the dogs shut in? + + MACIAS-- (_At the corner of the dormitory._) + They're shut in. Why? + + ANDREW--Hear it. + + MACIAS-- I hear nothing. + + ANDREW-- Far down in the dark. + There, groaning in the wind. + It tries to rise. + Some stag or something's fallen from the rocks. + Are the dogs in? Is Twinkle in, and Spot? + + (_Macias walks back._) + + There's something moving round it. + + MACIAS-- Stag, you say? + + ANDREW--It's not a stag. Its foot sounds like a paw. + Hear it? It's dragging off the carcass. Hear? + + MACIAS--Old man, your ears are at the gates of death. + What is it that you hear in this wild night? + Awake you strike the trail I struck in sleep. + I have just had a dream in which I saw + A stag out on the mountain there dragged down. + + ANDREW-- (_Abstractedly._) + Its foot sounds like a paw. + + MACIAS-- 'Twas in the dream. + I am just from a dream in which I saw + A snow-white talbot pull a stag down. + + ANDREW-- Dream? + + MACIAS--And when the talbot had pulled down the buck + A pair of hands, small as a fairy's are, + Reached through the leaves and-- + + ANDREW-- Mother Mary! Hold! + I will wake Daniel. + + MACIAS-- Are all the brothers in? + + (_Andrew beats upon the shutter._) + + Do what? + + ANDREW--You're right. He'll read it as easy + As the old fellow what ate pulse and got + Lean as the kine he saw. He knows them all. + Says he: "Dreams sleep under the dog-wood blooms + And love to hear the patter o' the rain." + Why, he knows the color o' their beards, man. + Says he, one day, telling me of a dream-- + Onar was its name, gray-beard like a king-- + Steals into a tent: "Now you can get the girl; + Wake up and fight; now you can get her." + (_A low voice within._) Eh? + A dream, God bless us, fire-wing. (_The shutter opens._) + He. + + SOLOMAN-- Tell it. + + (_Farther back, a second shutter opens._) + + MACIAS--First tell me this: Did either of you monks + Hear Fever howl? + + SOLOMAN-- I heard no howl. + + MACIAS--(_Flashing back his torch._) Did you? + + LEO-- (_In a thin voice._) + What? + + MACIAS--Hear Fever howl. + + LEO-- What's Fever? + + MACIAS-- The bitch. + + LEO-- Shame! + + MACIAS-- (_To Soloman._) + A while ago I started up from sleep + And hurried to the kennel, thinking sure + I'd find old Fever sick again; but no; + The bitch was sleeping. And yet I heard a howl. + It may have been the white hound in my dream. + I seemed to be out on the mountain there. + 'Twas early morning; a few stars still shone + Above the village. Soon, far down the road, + I heard a baying as of hounds. Thinks I: + "A deer has passed and waked the village dogs. + Now for a chase." There must have been a slot + Of fresh blood on the road that fired the pack, + For on they came like mad. Around the cliff + Long bodies swung like shadows through the mist, + And tore on up the mountain. Farther up + A stag plunged from a hazel copse, and then + A snow-white talbot, following close behind, + Shot smoking from the brake. "Abloy!" I cried, + And leaped upon a rock. The after-pack, + Nosing the vent along the mountain road, + Heard the loud challenge of the leading hound + And, breaking trail, came crashing through the brush + And spied the quarry, and with their heads in air + Sprang after up the scree, their steaming mouths + Ringing the mountains round. The pretty deer, + With nostrils flaming and with dappled flanks + Torn by the furze, came skirting round a rock + And turned to dash under some low-hung boughs + When over a near knoll the hot, sinewy hound, + Like to a cat-o'-mountain from a limb, + Shot through the air. Crash through the boughs he went. + Sprinkling the earth with leaves. Out jumped my knife, + And, leaping from the rock, I hurried down + To slit the poor brute's throat and save a steak + From the mad, hungry pack. The pretty buck + Staggered beneath the hound, while the beads of blood + Dripped from the quivering hocks. The head fell back, + The tender haunches sank on the soft turf, + And death was closing up the eyes, when lo, + Sancta Maria, what a miracle! + + (_He pauses a moment, then proceeds with more and + more animation._) + + A gale had risen and the clouds that hung + Gray in the heavens when the chase began, + Foamed, and, flying black before the winds, + Grappled the woods and threw his thick, green hair + Into the swirling rack of livid sky. + Lightnings and thunders, winds and tumbling rocks + Charged on the pack of dogs as though they were + Devils come up from Hell, and hurled them down + Into the pit again. Under the beech + Where the white talbot had pulled down the buck + Behold the miracle the Virgin wrought! + Out of a dallop of green boughs that hung + Close to the haunches of the hart appeared + A pair of small pink hands that with one wrench + Tore the hound's jaws apart. The deer rose up + As from a sleep, shook his brown coat and browsed + The succulent green twigs, then wandered off + Up the dark mountain side, whilst like a star + Between the dim, dissolving antlers shone + A crucifix of silver, dripping blood. + + (_Several shutters in the second story have opened + and faces are seen white in the glare of the + torch. Old Andrew, frightened, has drawn back + in the shadow against the wall._) + + Lo, then a sight such as I hope our Lord + Will visit to these dying eyes of mine + In their last hour. The louring mountain brows + Brightened beneath a drift of golden feet, + And wings waved in the air, and faces bloomed + In the edding sky, and the dark towering ridge, + Lifting its weight of crags above the storm, + Sloughed off its shadow, and the field of pines, + Like a green army climbing to the clouds + Out of the darkness of the dale below, + Shook their victorious plumes, and every rock, + Tree, bush, and vine, and weed, and flower sent up + Voices of joy till all the mountains rang. + + LEO--"I say unto you that joy shall be in heaven over one + sinner that returneth." + + VOICE-- (_From the second story._) + Who is the sinner? + + MACIAS--(_Calling up._) Are all the brothers in? + + VOICE--(_Calling._) Oswald! + + ANOTHER-- Ask Pierre. + + ANOTHER-- (_Far within._) He has not returned. (A pause.) + + ANOTHER--He may have stayed with Father Benedict. + He finishes to-morrow. + + SOLOMAN-- Tell this dream + To the Abbot. (_The hunter disappears round the corner._) + + A VOICE-- Let us hear what Father says. + + ANOTHER--Oswald is girt about with prophesy. + + ANOTHER--Fiends cannot harm him. + + ANOTHER-- Jesus is with him. + + (_The shutters are closed hurriedly._) + + ANDREW-- (_Alone._) + The Devil is a big, long-legged crane, + Wading the marsh of life, and we are frogs, + Tadpoles and water-bugs. I'll fast and pray. + + (_He shields his flickering taper with his gown and + makes his way across the court toward the + chapel._) + + + _SCENE FOUR--A desolate mountain road along the top of a + cliff that plunges down from the edge of a pine-wood._ + _Overhead the wind is heard moaning in the trees, and upon + the ground patches of moonlight wave to and fro. From the + left, past some bushes which almost hide the road from + view, the dwarf, Sigurd, appears carrying the monk, Oswald, + limp in his arms. The latter's face is so emaciated that + one would never recognize him as the same person as was + seen in the forest some three years ago. His feet, upon + which are heavy wooden shoes, drag along the road. Suddenly + from somewhere in his clothing the large silver crucifix + falls to the ground. The dwarf stoops, and, resting the + monk upon his knee, reaches down and secures the crucifix, + which he puts between his teeth. Then, having gotten a new + hold, he rises and, with difficulty, makes his way up the + road._ + + + + +ACT THREE. + + + _SCENE ONE--A grassy ledge far up on the mountain side. Tall + pine trunks rise here and there. Down the slope, to the + left, are russet tops of small oaks newly leaved. To the + right, a rocky acclivity of about thirty degrees elevation + with scattered bushes and a sheep path winding back and up. + In the distance, a blue range of mountains with their bases + buried in the white mists of early morning._ + + _Some distance back from where the path comes down upon + the ledge, Conrad is broiling woodcocks on coals. Brown + feathers are sprinkled about upon the turf. Upon a rock + near by lies a well-filled hunting bag. Fritz, with his + face to the fire, is reclining upon the grass with a_ + _shepherd's staff in his hands. From down the slope, comes_ + _a tinkle of bells as of sheep browsing on the mountain side._ + + _TIME--Two days later._ + + FRITZ--I was with Canzler when the boy climbed up + Among the rocks and handed it to him. + + CONRAD--What does it look like? + + FRITZ-- It's as long as that, + + (_Indicating on his staff._) + + And blue as the waters of the tarn down there. + Upon the haft are wrought two eagles' heads + And, twisted round the blade in coil on coil, + A serpent in the talons of the birds + Forms the cross piece upon the lower haft. + On the blade between the coils what may be runes + Are cut in characters of some unknown tongue; + At least, no man has ever made them out. + + CONRAD--Where could the boy have gotten it? + + FRITZ-- No one knows. + Turn the bird over. + + CONRAD-- It is not brown yet. + + FRITZ--There is something magical about it all. + In the light, the blade bends like a willow wand, + But when the sky is overcast with clouds + Or in the shade of rock or tree no man + With all his might can bend it, and it slips + Through tree and rock as through a pawpaw leaf. + + CONRAD--The boy himself, what did he say? + + FRITZ-- He vanished. + + CONRAD-- Eh? + + FRITZ--When Canzler turned to ask him, he was gone. + + CONRAD--And have you seen him since? + + FRITZ-- Where is your bread? + + CONRAD--I have some here. (_He reaches up into the bag._) + Has no one seen him since? + + FRITZ--He was out on the mountains every day + Before, either by the abbey over there + Or climbing in the vines above the tarn, + But always in the shade of rock or tree. + When he crossed spaces where the sunlight fell + 'Twas always in the shadow of a cloud. + No one has seen him since he disappeared. + + CONRAD-- (_Laying the bread upon the grass._) + You know the song that Wiglaf used to sing, + Of how Val-father wanders over the earth + In human form-- + + FRITZ-- That is what Rudolph says; + Val-father turns his dark side to the earth. + + CONRAD--And leaves swords sticking in the rock and trees. + + FRITZ--Rudolph insists that Oswald will return. + He says that Selma learned it from the trees. + She listens in the forest all day long + And when the wind is loud and the boughs sway-- + + CONRAD--How could he ever find us here? + + FRITZ-- I see + How that could be; Woden knows where we are, + And where he turns his face the way is clear. + + CONRAD--Oswald has turned his back on Woden's face. + + FRITZ--Blind Hoder wandered once as far as Hell, + And he came back, for Woden in his mind + Directed him and--Here comes Canzler now. + + CONRAD--Is that the sword. + + FRITZ-- Yes. + + CONRAD-- What was that he said? + + FRITZ--He must be going down to see the priest. + + (_With the sword at his side and wearing a cap + made of a wild-cat's skin, its head upon his + head and the rest of the skin hanging down + his back, Canzler comes down the sheep path, + followed by Rudolph._) + + CANZLER--More than two years have passed and not a word + Was ever said to throw the claim in doubt; + But now that Hartzel is about to die + They think to get the whole tract for the Church, + Upon the ground that he who sold the land + To Hartzel was apostate to their Faith. + + RUDOLPH--They don't deny that the man owned the land? + + CANZLER--He owned the land till he disowned the Faith + And by that act he dispossessed himself, + And then, they say, the land reverted to God. + + RUDOLPH--And Hartzel's money, to whom does it revert? + + CANZLER--That is a matter between infidels, + And proves, when they rob one another so, + There is no honesty outside the Faith. + + RUDOLPH--The man that sold the land robbed Hartzel, eh? + + CANZLER--If knavery is all outside the Faith. + + CONRAD--Will you men have some breakfast? + + RUDOLPH-- And did they + Tell Hartzel on what ground they had seized his land? + + CANZLER--"All land is God's, and pagans have no right + To own it," was the answer that he got. + That was a month ago, though. When they found + That the wind passed and still the fruit hung on, + Thinking perhaps 'twould fall of its own weight. + They waited until yesterday and then + Unexpectedly they bumped the tree. + Hartzel should hold possession during life-- + He is about to die--and at his death + The Church should take the burden of the estate + From his dead shoulders, and carry it without charge + And with it save his soul from Hell. + + RUDOLPH-- And save + His children--? + + CANZLER-- From the path that leads to Hell. + + RUDOLPH--Is that their proposition? + + CANZLER-- That is it. + The old man in despair appealed to me. + + RUDOLPH--What are you going to tell them, Canzler? + + CANZLER--What am I going to tell them? Tell them what + Val-father tells the mountains, tells the rocks, + The trees, the beasts, the birds, all things that live. + Woden, who made all things, made each to be + Different from the rest. He made the oak + To bear its acorns and the pine its cones. + The mole to burrow and the fox to run, + The eagle to hatch her brood upon the crag + Under the sun, the bat, in the dark cave. + The ox to eat grass, and the lion flesh, + And each to go its own particular way + Upon a path as separate and clear + As are the curves and risings of the stars. + + (_Fritz and Conrad come forward._) + + He made no bell to ring all things that live + To sameness in their lives or in their thought. + To keep them, as he made them, different, + He gave to each an individual taste + And matched the taste within with that without + Which, when the two meet, the result is joy. + Joy is the voice of each thing as it moves + Toward Woden on the path that he laid out. + The eagle finds its way without a guide + To Woden, and the stars without a guide, + Each in its own light, and all things that live, + From the blind worm to the all-seeing sun, + Follow their joy and come at last to him. + The eagle's right to go the eagle's way + Is not conditioned by another thing + Save by the fact alone that it is so: + That Woden gave to it an eagle's wings. + And so with man. To what man has a right, + He has a right because he is a man + And not because he is a kind of man. + Val-father's bells have each a different tone. + You cannot make the million aisles that lead + To him one aisle and drive all things through that, + Or make the right of each to be and to have + Rest on its answering a particular bell. + If we admit their principle that Faith, + Or anything outside the fact that one + Is a man, is the basis of the rights of man, + We shame our Saxon fathers who fought and died + For a lie, if this be true. For when the South + Pushed through the Frankish forest with her sword + Between her teeth, and stained with blood, and held + Her hands out, saying, "Here, take this or this," + Our fathers chose the darkness of the grave + From the red hand, and left the black hand filled + With that which now to keep itself alive + Eats Hartzel's land and licks its fangs toward us. + When the great night came on and they laid down + Under their battered shields and broken swords, + The trees have told us what their last word was: + "The northern air will kill the southern lie; + Then we will come again. Remember this." + + FRITZ--And here we are. + + CANZLER-- It may not be dawn yet, + But some are up before the light. + + FRITZ-- And all + The dead will rise when Balder comes. + + RUDOLPH-- But now + Val-father has his dark side to the earth, + And works in his own shadow. + + FRITZ-- But the dawn + Will reach down and lift Balder out of Hell. + + CONRAD-- (_Drawing the sword from Canzler's belt._) + If we concede to every man the right, + As you say, Canzler, to his own belief, + We must concede to the villagers the right + To their belief that they own Hartzel's land. + + CANZLER--We do concede it. + + RUDOLPH-- Their right to their belief. + But not their right to Hartzel's land. + + CANZLER-- With them + Men are God's vassals, and the land they hold, + They hold in fief to him, on terms of faith. + + RUDOLPH--And while they keep the Faith, they keep the land. + + FRITZ--And when they lose the Faith, they lose the land. + + CONRAD-- (_Walking aside._) + And when they have no Faith, they have no land. + + (_He tries to pierce with the sword a pine tree in + the sunlight._) + + CANZLER--Try that one in the shade there. + + (_The sword passes deeply into the second trunk._) + + FRITZ-- Is it through? + + CONRAD-- (_Looking behind the trunk._) + More than a hand's breadth. + + + FRITZ-- If the village dogs + Snap at you as they are wont to-- + + CANZLER-- I shall have + No trouble with them. + + FRITZ-- And yet you expect + To tell them what you said just-- + + CANZLER-- I expect + Hartzel to have his rights. Fetch it here, Conrad. + + RUDOLPH--The Bailiff, Canzler, is a rabid man. + + CANZLER--I have no business with the Bailiff. + + RUDOLPH-- Still, + To reach the church, you must pass through the street. + + CANZLER--Is it too narrow for two men to pass? + + (_He receives the sword and goes left._) + + RUDOLPH--For two such men as you two are, it is. + + FRITZ--With swords on thighs. + + CONRAD-- (_Walking back toward the fire._) + The hilts might knock. + + FRITZ--(_Following him._) Or blades. + + VOICE OF SELMA-- (_Above._) + I'm going with you, Father! + + CANZLER-- No, Selma; + You-- + + SELMA-- (_Who comes running down the path._) + Just to the dingle; the faries say + The heather-bells are out. + + RUDOLPH-- Let her go, Canzler. + + CANZLER--Throw the white blooms away. + + SELMA-- (_Throwing away a sprig of dog-wood._) + Now may I go? + + CANZLER--They make you sad. (_He starts down the slope_.) + + SELMA-- I'll not cry any more. + I'll be gay, Father, if you let me go. + + (_She turns and looks questioningly at Rudolph, + who nods to her. Then, skipping forward, she + takes hold of the hilt of her father's sword + and steadies herself with it as they go down + the slope._) + + CONRAD--Come back and have a woodcock. + + (_Rudolph walks back._) + + FRITZ-- There he goes. (_Shouting._) + O Canzler! + + CONRAD-- He don't hear you. + + RUDOLPH-- Who? + + CONRAD-- The Priest. + + RUDOLPH--Which way is he? + + FRITZ-- Riding down toward town. + + (_Rudolph joins the others, and the three stand + looking off left._) + + CONRAD-- (_Directing Rudolph._) + Up that way from the Abbey. + + FRITZ-- I bet he's been + Back to see Hartzel. (_Shouting._) Canzler! + + CONRAD-- He can't hear. + + + _SCENE TWO--The courtyard of the abbey, as in Scene three + of the second act. The large crucifix which was seen in + the forest in the first Act is fixed above the door of_ + _the chapel. On either side of the door is a stained glass_ + _window, the farther one depicting the Transfiguration, the + nearer one, the legend of St. Giles. The deer with blood + dripping from a wound in its haunch stands behind the + saint who holds in his hand an arrow with blood upon its + tip. The emporer and his huntsmen are presenting the saint + with golden cups. The deer is watching them. Several rude + benches of stone are ranged alongside of the dormitory. + In the rear, about ten feet back from the building, a low + stone wall extends across, passing behind the dormitory on + the one side and the chapel on the other. To the left, far + back, is seen the side of the mountain on which the abbey + stands. The upper part is thickly wooded, and below, where + the timber is sparse, a road winds down the cliff to the + village. Farther down, the slope becomes more precipitous + and is covered with bowlders and stunted evergreens, some + of which have been broken off by rocks tumbling from the + cliff above. Off to the right, a space of sky with the + snow-peaks flashing in the sunlight. To the left in the + last Scene, they are now far to the right._ + + _From a door in the dormitory facing the court, Ely and_ + _Pierre enter. The former has a hunting horn suspended from + his shoulder by a chain, and in his hand a small wooden + crucifix. Pierre carries two large silver candelabra. They + come out talking._ + + ELY--For he was old and he had come four miles. + + PIERRE--A cripple too! When was this? + + ELY-- Yesterday. + And when I showed him this and said: "Good man, + Here is a rood he carved with his own hands," + Light filled his eyes. + + PIERRE-- And had he come so far? + + (_Ely walks forward and looks around the corner of + the dormitory._) + + ELY-- (Turning back.) + I must be at the gate when father comes-- + Four miles on crutches. Suddenly he looked up. + He must have seen a wing flash in the sky, + For his face brightened with the light of faith, + And like a seed he seemed to scent a shower. + + PIERRE--What did you do? + + ELY-- I asked him to kneel down. + Oh, what a power there is in holy things! + No sooner had I touched him with the rood + Than like a plant he rose up from the stones + And blossomed; cried: "Lord Jesus, I am cured!" + And down the mountain ran shouting for joy. + + PIERRE--The Holy Virgin bless us! + + ELY-- Yes, he did; + Ran down. I watched him till he disappeared, + Then turned to stone. I could not stir, but stood + Frightened as though an angel hovered near + In the blue sky. + + PIERRE-- Oh, I have felt it too! + These two days have to me been like a dream + And I am dizzy as on some high place. + At night I feel the stars are not far off, + And when I wake, it seems to me the dawn + Is breaking far below us on the world. + So near we are to that which lights the sun, + + (_He holds up the candelabra._) + + These candles, if I should dare to speak the word, + Would burst out into flame. + + ELY-- Pierre! + + PIERRE--(_Still looking up._) Oh, surely, + Surely the hands that lifted Oswald up, + Lifted our abbey too, and we are close + To heaven. Perhaps about us in the air + Are voices and the wings of those that hear + Our very whispers,--martyrs, saints, Saint Giles. + + ELY--You make it terrible to live in flesh. + + PIERRE--Oh, terrible! It is terrible to live + Where every word drops in an angel's ear. + I feel that every breath should be a prayer. + + ELY--I feel so too, Pierre. These acts of grace-- + + PIERRE--Are but the sparks of power. + + (_He starts toward the chapel._) + + ELY-- Mere sparks, you think? + These healings and this rescue from the gulch, + Mere sparks? + + PIERRE-- Simply the scattered beams. + + ELY-- And yet, + The same great light hath kindled one and all. + Is it not so? + + PIERRE-- All these will vanish when-- + + ELY--Tell me. Go on. + + PIERRE-- When the full orb shall burst. + + ELY--What do you mean? + + PIERRE--(_Mounting the steps._) I dare not speak it. + + ELY-- Brother! + + PIERRE--Ely, we stand in darkness by the Tomb, + And little beams flash on us from the chinks, + But the full glory, flooding all the vault, + Awaits the angel. + + ELY-- Is it the dream you mean? + + PIERRE--No one must ever tell him, Father says. + + ELY--You think then that the dream will be fulfilled? + That it is Oswald whom the hounds of Hell + Will chase up some vast mountain of the soul? + + PIERRE--Soon the stone will stir. (_He enters the chapel._) + + ELY-- Pierre! + + (_While Ely stands hoping that Pierre will + reappear, loud laughter breaks from the open + door of the dormitory, and Simon and Basil + come sprawling out. The former is pulling at + a piece of flesh. Ely's face shows anger, and + he starts left._) + + BASIL-- His crutches! + + (_He laughs aloud._) + + SIMON--Here he is now. Ely! + + BASIL--(_Calling through the door._) Hear that, Rene? + The beggar left his crutches for his gift. + + (_Laughter within._) + + SIMON--You ask him. Ely! + + (_Ely unlocks the iron gates and passes out._) + + BASIL-- Bring the crutches, man! + Simon's got the gout. + + (_Rene comes out and joins Basil in laughing at + Simon. The latter, eating his meat, walks back + in the court. Basil whispers to Rene._) + + RENE-- When was it, Simon? + + SIMON--Yesterday. I was sleeping on the bench + When the old codger's shouting waked me up. + And there he was. (_He points up to the road._) + I thought the man was mad, + Or had been in the gables robbing nests, + For his white hair fluttering in the wind + Looked like a pair of pigeons on his poll. + He must have thought the Devil-- (_He sits down on a bench._) + + BASIL-- Or else Ely. + + RENE--Yes, chasing him for his pay. + + BASIL--(_Indignantly._) His crutches! + + SIMON-- (_Drolly._) + He left his sole support. + + (_They all laugh. Basil, who has come forward, + peeps round the corner of the dormitory. + Withdrawing quickly, he hurries back toward + the door._) + + BASIL--(_Excitedly, in an underbreath._) Rene! + + (_He points back over his shoulder with his thumb._) + + RENE--(_Huskily._) Simon! + + (_Simon leaps up, jerks away his meat, and, wiping + his mouth with his sleeve, hurries after the + others into the dormitory. From the right, + the Abbot enters followed by a train of + monks. He wears a miter and a flowing cope_ + _of scarlet, richly apparelled. From the end + of a rosary about his neck dangles an ivory + crucifix. The monks are all in black and wear + their hoods. Upon reaching the center of the + court, the Abbot raises his staff and the_ + _procession stops._) + + ABBOT--Saint Martin hath restored the golden dawn + And put the clouds to flight. The kingly sun + Looks on the world like our new-risen Lord + Driving the night before Him. And the fiends, + That fly with darkness from the pit of death + To conjure with the baleful midnight stars + And wreck God's holy chime of human souls, + Are scourged to Hell, and all the rebel orbs + Are thunder-stunned. Vapors and noxious fogs + That hatch contagion in rank, drizzling swamps, + Will soon beneath the lightning's flagellum + With breezes fan their fevers from the blood, + And with pure sea-dews from green ocean urns + Sprinkle the parched earth to cool the vines + Preparing clusters of our dear Lord's blood. + The serpent spawn of imps and evil dreams, + Fairies and watching wanderers of the night, + That kennel in the bowels of the earth + And taint its waters, blight the tender sprouts, + And sow infections through the flocks and herds, + Have flown like bats into the squalid caves, + And there are numb with fear. O'er Zion's towers + The virgin dawn brings forth the sun of God + And smiles upon the world. The blessed light + Spreads o'er the earth its bright, archangel wings, + Dripping with balmy dews and cassia smells. + The day will-- + + (_High up on the mountain is heard the blast of a + trumpet._) Hark! + + A MONK-- It was Ely's trumpet. + + ANOTHER--Some one comes. + + ABBOT-- The asses from Italy, + Bringing the wine and frankincense, no doubt. + + A MONK--And the golden chalices. + + ANOTHER-- And Father's cope. + + (_Pierre comes from the chapel_.) + + ABBOT--Pierre! + + PIERRE-- What it is, Father? + + ABBOT-- Is the ambry clean? + + PIERRE--It is, Father. + + ABBOT-- Go find Louis, and fetch-- + Fetch the diotas and--let's see--three casks. + + (_He saunters toward the gate. Three monks + follow Pierre, right. The rest disperse about + the court, the greater part eventually finding + their way into the chapel. A few walk back in + the rear and stand looking up at the road. + Three monks, who came in at the end of the + procession and who all the while have stood + perfectly still, slip back their hoods and + discover Simon, Rene, and Basil. At the corner + of the dormitory, Pierre and his companions + meet Louis entering_.) + + ONE OF THE MONKS--The train has come. + + PIERRE-- Father says bring the casks. + + (_Louis reaches under his gown and produces a + large iron key which he hands to Pierre. He + then passes into the court. The four go out_.) + + ABBOT-- (_Calculating._) + Thirty gallons and six--(_Turning._) Four casks, Pierre. + + SIMON--The chopin too, Pierre. You know the men, + The mule-men will be dry. + + BASIL-- Or Simon will. + + RENE--Or Basil. + + BASIL-- Or Rene. + + SIMON-- (_With his hand to his mouth._) Or Father. + + (_They laugh._) + + ABBOT-- Louis! + + (_The shutter near the corner of the dormitory + opens, and Solomon leans out. He has a + parchment in his hand._) + + SOLOMAN--_Quid est_, Leo? + + LEO-- (_Telling his beads, on one of the benches._) + The wine train has arrived. + + SOLOMAN--From Paradise. + + LEO-- Don't be irreverant. + + BASIL---(_To Soloman._) Let no man look on wine when it is red. + + SIMON--I shut my eyes. + + (_Holding their sides for laughter, Rene and + Basil stagger back toward the rear. Soloman + withdraws from the window._) + + LEO-- Father will tend to you. + + (_Simon makes faces at him and follows his + companions._) + + ABBOT-- (_Walking aside with Louis._) + Say nothing to the strangers of the affair. + + LOUIS--Of finding brother Oswald? + + ABBOT-- No, not that. + His fall, his being found before the gate, + All that, no doubt, the villagers last night + Poured into their ears. The folk are deeply stirred. + From tongue to tongue the flame of rumor runs + That heavenly hands bore Oswald from the gulch. + They think the holy saints have blessed his palms + With power of healing and of miracles. + Alms have increased ten-fold. Cattle and sheep, + Jewels and coin, and corn and casks of wine + Pour in from every side. Within a year, + St. Giles will swell her roofs and shine in gold-- (_Confidentially._) + Provided, Louis, provided. You understand? + + LOUIS--You mean the abbey here will robe herself + In purple cloth-of-bodkin stiff with pearl, + Provided-- + + ABBOT-- This new loom shall keep her hum. + + LOUIS--That here red wines will flow to flush her face, + Provided-- + + ABBOT-- Hand in hand upon the hills + This sudden sun that hath sprung up the sky + Shall lead the vine and pour his blood to swell-- + + LOUIS--That morning when it strikes her eastern gate + Will see her heaving heavenward dome on dome, + Provided-- + + ABBOT-- Ay, that's it. You understand. + The quarry for our domes is in our brains. + Here, in our brains, your brain and mine, Louis, + We have the shuttle of that wonderous loom + That shall array her in her cloth-of-gold. + Here is the sun, the bridegroom of the grape. + And here, from hills of France and Italy, + The purple bride shall come and loose her zone + And lay her dower in the abbey's lap. + Lock up that jewel, Louis, in its case. + Let it not get abroad that you suspect-- + Suspect, I say; you surely do not know-- + + LOUIS--I only know of what I heard and saw. + I heard his voice and-- + + ABBOT-- You were fast asleep. + + LOUIS--At first I was; then, wakened by the shout, + Three times I heard him cry out in the dark: + "Haro! help! help!" + + ABBOT-- A voice, of course; but whose? + The night so alters sound you cannot tell. + A cat-o'-mountain screaming in the dark + For all the world sounds like a wailing child. + + LOUIS--But when I see the track, I'll tell you then. + The track up by the gate, and it's there now, + Is the dwarf's track, four toes on the left foot. + + ABBOT--Preposterous, Louis, that this hunched devilock, + Brought up on witch's dugs, in the dead of night + Should be about the service of the Lord. + Asses can talk like men when angels bid. + Perhaps the angels, taking him in the act + Of throwing brother Oswald from the cliff, + Scourged him before them to the abbey gate + And made him in his pain cry out for help + And set his print to attest the power of God. + Who knows? + + LOUIS--Brother Oswald, perhaps. + + ABBOT--Only God. + But make no mention of the witch's son. + When truth is whist and doubt a favoring gale + Blowing toward golden islands in the sea, + Let the ship drive before it into port. + No one was with you when you found him. + + LOUIS--No one. + + ABBOT--And no one saw you. + + LOUIS--No one. It was still dark; + The brothers were asleep. + + ABBOT--Say nothing of it. + Let rumor blow it as a miracle. + Sweet feet of saints have run down in the night + And with a touch enriched a holy house + Of no more worth than this of good St. Giles. + Rumor of saints can do as much as saints. + If thoughts of bright wings stirring in the sky + Can kindle hearts to deeds of charity, + And by those deeds the Virgin's chapels rise, + Let the flame run. We'll blow it through the land. + I've had the brothers circulate report + That wings were seen dissolving in the dawn + Above the mountains. + + LOUIS--(_With a smile._) So, perhaps, there were-- + Of eagles wheeling airily in the clouds. + Is this not, Father, to build upon the sand? + + ABBOT--To build on sand is to build on a lie. + + LOUIS--What is a lie? + + ABBOT--A lie is not a thing + That is not, but a thing that cannot be. + Thus to say good is evil is a lie, + For good cannot be evil. But to say + That that hath been which God hath power to do + Is to make faith a fact. In days like these, + When the Albigensian heresy is rank, + We must support the Holy Writ in this, + That what is done in thought is done in deed. + Has a good deed been done? Then a good thought + Has done that deed, and that good thought is God's, + And such thoughts we call angels. + + LOUIS--Oswald, then, + Was rescued by the angels? + + ABBOT--Without doubt. + The globe of fire that Dominic beheld + Above our Lady's chapel in the plain + Of Prouille was a light in his own mind. + + LOUIS--The multitude will never understand + This nice distinction. + + ABBOT--Just so; but shall we + Show them the foul body of fair Truth + Or the clear spirit? + + LOUIS--The spirit, Father. + I never doubt the end you have in view. + + ABBOT--You doubt the means, though. Deep down in your heart + You smile and say: "But Father is all right. + The times are fire, and fight for Benedict. + To build the abbey, Father must have gold. + To get the gold, the people must be bilked. + But Father will return them light for gold. + I never doubt the end he has in view." + + LOUIS--You are the brain, Father; I, the hand. + You know that I would help you. You know that. + + ABBOT--Anyway, Louis, I am justified. + For simple souls find joy in simple faith. + Go down into the village. Guido tells me + Their faces shine because of this bright thing. + It purifies and cheers them. Cyprian says + There is no power that does not come from God. + He might have said the same of light and joy, + And shall I, to whom what I know this thing is + Seems quite as strange as what they think it is-- + That angels did it--, take their light away + Because I know it falls not from a star? + A thousand lamps burn in the House of Life. + Shall I walk through its chambers and say: "This, + Children, and this, now these were lit of Hell; + But that one there--see how the oil of God + Goes up the wick and throws a brighter flame"? + Unless they see it brighter, it is not. + They cannot see it so without my eye. + They cannot have my eye and keep their own, + And they must keep their own a little while; + At least until I get my abbey built, + Until I shout the sun from out the sea + And with its beams illumine the valley there. + And since its rising on their gifts depends, + And since their gifts depend on their belief, + I cannot tell them their belief is false; + 'Twould bring the abbey down upon their heads; + And Benedict would shout forevermore, + Seeing their night come back without a star. + And so I cannot tell them what is true. + Nothing is sadder than to see a mind + Drifting between an old faith torn away + And a new rock not risen from the waves. + Their wisp must burn until the sun comes up. + Our Lord himself tempered his dazzling truth + To simple minds, and spake in parables, + Leaving the halo on the brow of things. + And shall we blow it away? + + LOUIS-- Is it there? + + ABBOT-- For them, + It is intensely there. And when they come + Bringing their little gifts, what can I say? + They ask me, "Is this light?" I say, "Does it + Shine?" They answer, "Yes." "Then it is light." (_A pause._) + Is it? (_A pause._) Louis? + + LOUIS-- Suppose so; if it shines. + + ABBOT--And if they say it shines? + + LOUIS--(_After a pause._) I suppose so. + + ABBOT--Shall Plato take Saint Giles' faith away? + That, Louis, is the question of all time. + + LOUIS--If he can give him Plato's. + + ABBOT-- _If_ he can. + And if he cannot? + + LOUIS-- If he cannot-- (_He stops._) + + ABBOT-- What? + Ready to give to one who cannot take, + Who cannot see my light beyond her light. + Shall I step in upon my mother's prayer + With noise, and say: "But see, yours is no god." + And pick and pound and blow her hope away + And loose her tears upon my father's corpse? (_A pause._) + Louis? (_A pause._) Shall I? + + LOUIS-- (_Walking about with his head down._) + I have naught to say. + + ABBOT--Do I still seem to be a hypocrite? + + LOUIS-- (_Turning quickly._) + Father! + + ABBOT--What should I say? "Your eye sees false"? + If they think rue will keep the devils off, + To kill their thought would bring the devils back + And leave them fleeing Hell, not seeking God; + A different thing though Benedict knows it not. + They are not ready for the larger life, + And in a day I cannot make them so. + They cannot take my light. Shall I take theirs, + Their little light, and leave them in the dark? + Take from their hearts the glory and the hope? + How do I know what God means by this thing? + If they should ask me I must drop my eyes + And say: "He hides to-morrow from to-day," + Which is no answer, Louis, and I know it. + What can I do? No, I must seem to lie: + While I am serving God, seem to serve Hell; + Pray to the Giver of Light, "Thy will be done," + And then give darkness! Oh, for some power, + Some angel, Louis, that should come from heaven + And free us from these bonds of policy! + That we must hide our light like secret parts + As though each shining ray were snake of Hell! + Oh, that some god would step down on the peaks + And make us throw our thought out on the dark, + As fields their seeds, leaving the god of growth + To separate and slay and bring to sheaf! + How I would lay this cope and this aside, + And with my face upon the mountains run, + Aye, run to meet the bright thing coming down, + And cry, "Hail, hail, hail, hail, thou blessed one!" + + (_Shaking with emotion, his voice husky._) + + I cannot be a man! + + LOUIS-- But, Father, that-- + + ABBOT--Accursed bondage harder than the Nile! + + LOUIS--That prophesy that Oswald brings, may it + Not mean this very thing, that by his fall + And this bright rumor that the angels saved him, + A summer cloud that seems to rain down gold, + May it not be that by this very gold + Your tower of light shall rise upon this rock + And save the North from darkness? May it not? + + ABBOT--But who will save us from our policy, + From playing hide and seek with God's bright son, + From the necessity of withholding truth + From those to whom the vital thing belongs, + Who do not even hunger for it more, + Who live and die about a taper's flame, + Calling it star, and sun, salvation, God-- + And here all round us--Louis, look, the dawn! + + LOUIS--The quality of all light is the same. + + ABBOT--Quality, Louis, is not quantity. + The myriad spheres of dew leave the fields dark. + The midnight luster on the swamp is light, + Enough to guide the wild thing paddling there. + The willow leaves give light unto the moth. + The stars that fill us with the life to come + Leave darkness in the prowling tiger's eye, + And rise and set upon its curve of ball. + God made the day for higher things than these. + Some light is not enough for something more + Than moth and water-rat and prowling maws + That find their food in flesh. With what design + Lit God the radiant pages? For what purpose + Hung he the planet Plato in the sky + With kindred constellations of pure thought, + If I, a mortal man, can lift my hand + And leave a shadow in the valley there? + It fills my life with meaning to know this, + That God hath ordered so our spiritual world + That every bright thing needs my will to shine, + As it needs His to reach the shining state. + Think of such confidence of God in man! + And I betray it. (He walks about thoughtfully.) + + LOUIS-- You betray it? How? + By holding back the truth about the dwarf? + + ABBOT--I hide the light. + + LOUIS-- You hide it as a seed + Which, if the people eat, the famine spreads, + But which, if planted, wide the harvest waves. + Your own heart tells you you are right in this. + + ABBOT--But when, when is the feeding to begin? + If I to-day withhold the seed, who knows + That I will not to-morrow withhold the yield, + And so continue, building larger barns? + Meanwhile the people in the valley die. + + LOUIS--But God, who sees your purpose in it all, + Sees the day coming when this rock shall be + A beacon, and this region full of light. + + ABBOT--'Twill never be while Benedict is here. + + LOUIS--Oh, but look yonder, Father! Three hours ago + Black clouds besieged the east, and lo, now Day + Stands on the mountain tops and sees them not. + Where Night has gone there's room for Benedict. + + ABBOT--I know that, Louis; but the years go by. + And oh, to use the little breath I have + In doing what I never did before! + How is it I cannot tell them what is true? + + LOUIS--'Twould crush in seed the abbey you would build. + + ABBOT--How can an abbey rise upon a lie? + + LOUIS--You said it was not a lie. + + ABBOT-- It is a lie + Until they know that it is not a lie. + As I do. + + LOUIS-- Will you tell them? + + ABBOT-- (_Walking about._) + I am bound, + Bound hand and foot by cursed policy. + I cannot be a man. + + LOUIS-- Many a church + Has lies like this above the altar place. + + ABBOT--My abbey was to be part of the one. + + LOUIS-- (_After a pause._) + You said, "Until they know it," Father. + + ABBOT-- Yes. + + LOUIS--"As I do." (_The Abbot turns._) + Do you doubt it was the dwarf? + + ABBOT--I do not doubt the fact in the case, but + I may not limit its significance. + + LOUIS-- (_With a smile._) + An angel or a god, then? + + ABBOT-- Half so, yes. + + LOUIS--To free us from our policy? + + ABBOT-- Pray God + It may be, Louis, pray God it may be. + That unknown god should have an altar here. + No, Louis: what I mean is simply this: + This thing that we call evil, may it not + Be the other side of this thing we call good, + The passing of bright planets of the mind, + Dreaming eclipse that is no thing at all, + Simply the passing of the two things, both bright? + God ever wrestles with his shadow, Louis, + And now the bright goes down and now the dark: + And man stands by and watches the great game + With heart divided and with swaying mind + And lifts whichever falls. The game goes on + Forever, and the nations rise and fall + Forever, and fall and rise. And so they strive, + Like light and shade over the mountain slopes, + Each wrestling not for victory but strength. + + LOUIS--And you and Benedict? + + ABBOT-- I am not his foe. + I come from Florence and he comes from Rome. + + LOUIS--And you love painted windows. + + ABBOT-- I love God; + He loves the Church. There is the difference. + He iterates with fire in his eyes + That Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell, + But not a word that Ignorance shall fall + Or Passion lose her lightning in the deep. + I wrestle with the bright against the dark. + + LOUIS--For the world-soul. + + ABBOT-- Neither of us may win. + In fact, I pray God that we may not. + + LOUIS-- How? + + ABBOT--I hope that some free, some _free_ spirit may win. + Not one wrapped round with ignorance, nor one + Bound hand and foot by cursed policy. + But I am not his foe. + + LOUIS-- But he is yours. + + ABBOT--Night does not understand. + + LOUIS-- I cannot see. + + ABBOT--Louis, the greatest man in this great world + Is he who sees all things are going right. + Yet fights as though all things were going wrong. + + (_Louis shakes his head._) + + I know you don't. But I can do no more + Than show my thought. To see it, must be yours. + + LOUIS--Then Oswald's fall-- + + ABBOT-- Not if it gives him strength + To do the work his spirit bids him do, + To wrestle with the dark and with the bright, + To wrestle better than he did before. + And shake the fruit down of that prophesy. + Who knows what God behind the horizon holds + For Oswald till the dawning of that day? + I somehow feel the dream is, as it were, + The warp to which the prophesy is woof, + And that beneath the hills unseen a loom + Rocks as it weaves in dogs and storm and deer + And underneath the meaning of it all. + But I was speaking of the witch's son. + This pebble here I take up in my hand. + I turn it, yet I always see one side. + The other side is toward the underworld, + And though I turned it till the Judgment Day, + That side would still be round there. Bid it grow, + Swell to a bowlder's, now the chapel's size, + And now a globe's. And let us hold it thus. + Above us, on our palms. Like Atlas now + I stand supporting it. (_Pointing as though under the globe._) + Down here I see + A little night following a little day + About a water-drop, a grain of sand, + A point in which my spirit lives and moves. (_Reaching up and around._) + How do I know that up here are not worlds + Lit with Gods' providence and bathed with soul? + What is my thought that it should scale these zones + And take my law of good and evil there + And recreate that life to what I know? + Is my eye God's, that it should see all things? + From what far mountains come the grains of gold + That sparkle in the river of my soul? + Ranges of being and tall peaks of thought + May hold up here a brighter metal still, + Some burning thing would dry my river bed. + The dreams that vein the dark sky of our sleep, + As lightnings vein the night and then are gone, + Whence come they and whither go they, that they leave + Vast expectation and the vacant eye? + And out beyond the chalice of our sleep + That cases round my dew-drop soul, who knows + What oceans roar with life beyond our life, + And spray with stars the dark rocks of the void? + How do I know what creatures come and go + Beyond my little line of night and day, + Doing the will of the Eternal Mind? + I am not Benedict to say, "This is He, + And this is not." + + LOUIS-- Not even of the dwarf? + + ABBOT--God is the author of the book we see + Whose pages are the mountains and the stars. + Though He may sit aloof, his soul pervades + Each word and letter. Prowling in the spring, + The mountain lion feels Him in her paws, + And the wild creatures of the caves are His. + + LOUIS--Was He in Oswald's fall? + + ABBOT-- 'Tis past my thought + How He should not be;--in his rising, too. + If God is with me when I climb a hill, + When I descend do I leave God somewhere + Upon the top? If only he ascends, + How came he in the valley, then, at first? + Only the ignorant halve the universe + And thresh events and say, "The _wheat_ is God's," + Piecing their small minds out with nothingness. + The chaff too served its purpose in its time + And while it served its purpose it was good + And like the wheat it drew its strength from God. + Having served its end, is wheat itself not chaff? + If Oswald's fall is evil in our minds, + It is because we do not see its place. + But where my knowledge ends, does God end, too? + Our brother tumbling from the bluff that night + Into the gorge, but tumbled, as it were, + Off of God's fingers into his great palm. + Ascent and descent are in one straight line. + I see no angle in the universe, + A break in things, a point where God begins + And Satan ends. If, in this strange event, + The people see a movement of the sky + And stand amazed, I stand even more amazed + At what I see than they at seraphim. + For what I see is darkness giving light, + An earth-born thing showing capacity + For deeds divine, and busy in the dark + Not with its own low nature but with God. + I grapple with it and my light goes out. + I feel as though I walked in a strong wind + Along a reed, with only faith for eyes. + Reason calls it to me with a blind man's voice. + That helplessness should bring an angel down, + Is that as wonderful as that it should bring + A devil up to do an angel's work? + What _we_ see, Louis, is the miracle. + What _they_ see, while it jars our sense of things, + Falls nicely into the mental harmony. + + LOUIS--Good becomes evil having served its end. + How Benedict would rage should he hear this. + + ABBOT--Each mind takes of the light what it can hold. + + LOUIS--You know that day in the scriptorium, + When you were reading the Symposium, + What he said, do you remember? + + ABBOT-- Yes, I do. + + LOUIS--"If I had my way I would burn that thing." + + ABBOT--A beam of the sunshine hurts the owl's eyes. + + LOUIS--And he would peck the stars out if he could. + + ABBOT--As though our faith were fungus! + + LOUIS-- If it be, + If it must feed on darkness, let it die. + + ABBOT-- (_Walking about thoughtfully._) + It need not feed on darkness, Louis. + + LOUIS-- This + Miracle, Father, will bring back the day. + + ABBOT-- (_To himself._) + The Age is torn and shaken. Passions swell + And range like winter rivers. I would have it + Lucid and calm as Arno flowing down + By sacred Florence. I am far away, + Far away and my hairs begin to fall. + + LOUIS--This will bring back the day. + + ABBOT-- (_To himself._) And nothing done. + + (_He stands with his eyes upon the ground. Then, + dreamily._) + + Young faces radiant with the golden air + That Plato breathed among the olive leaves. + + LOUIS-- (_Half aloud._) + "If I had my way I would burn that thing." + + ABBOT-- (_Half to himself, his back to Louis._) + And if I had my way--(_He lifts his face._)-- + Oh, I would build + An abbey! I would cut its trenches deep + Down into God, the God of all things. Then + I would lay the white stones of Philosophy, + The Sages who, as gifts to Delphi, brought + Small sheaves of wisdom, offering them to God + As better gifts than first born bulls and goats. + And I would slay the griffin, Policy, + And scatter its bright gold about the world + And lay its carcass for the corner stone. + Its telamons should be those giant men + Who propt the fabric of the ancient world. + The east and west and north and south should lay + Their four white corners on the four broad backs + Of Plato and his solid pupil's mind, + Then him who dove too deep for Rome to see, + Lucretius, maddening round the seeds of things, + And Cicero because he loved the truth. + And there should stand all round as peristyle + The Bards of Greece in cluster, speaking gold; + Young Sappho with the glory of the sea + All round her milk white throat and marble arms, + Proud Pindar fawning kings, and Sophocles, + And he, he, Aeschylus, wild son of fire, + Who never swerved for mincing Policy, + But spake his sea-thought out and shook the world. + Its roof should be the shields of golden song + Wherever burning on the hills of Time, + Wherever smouldering in Eternity. + And I would have all planets God hath hung + Since first His word went forth, "Let there be light," + Within our spiritual heaven, shining here + Without eclipse forever. And up there, + In alto relievo on the frieze, should be + Apollo slaying python Ignorance, + And Darkness with the face of Benedict + Half hung down, heavy, livid, hands and teeth + Tugging and biting at the architrave + To tear these golden letters from the slab. + "THE SOUL IS IN THE BRAIN." And over all, + Towering with her calm eternal eyes, + Athene, soul of Athens, holy One. + Oh, I would build an abbey! + + LOUIS--(_As in prayer._) Father! Father! + + GUIDO-- (_Appearing at the door of the chapel._) + The fifteenth chapter has that blue stain on it. + + ABBOT-- (_Pointing right._) + In the scriptorium, the second shelf; + Get the Symposium; I will read that. + + (_Horrified, the monk stands for a moment, then + goes slowly down the steps across the court, + every now and then glancing back over his + shoulder at the Abbot._) + + LOUIS-- (_In a low voice._) + Remember, Father. Is this policy. (_A pause._) + You know your abbey is not risen yet. + + (_The Abbot bows_ _his head. Louis lifts his + hand as a signal. Guido,_ _crossing the court, + stops and stands waiting._) + + One breath of this would bring the rafters down. (_A pause._) + + ABBOT-- (_Turning, with his eyes closed._) + The other Bible, Guido. + + (_The monk quickens his step and_ _enters the + dormitory._) + + LOUIS-- And you know + Some of the brothers might tell Benedict, + And he would send it blazing down to Rome. + + ABBOT--Lamp after lamp goes out for policy. + + (_He opens the gate through which Ely passed._) + + LOUIS--Better one lamp than total darkness, though. + + ABBOT--Say nothing to the carriers of the affair. + + LOUIS--Have you cautioned Oswald? + + ABBOT--(_Astounded._) Cautioned Oswald? + + LOUIS-- Yes. + + ABBOT--You said he was unconscious. + + LOUIS-- When I found him + He was unconscious. But from what he dropped + Yesterday in his cell, I am sure he knows + It was the dwarf that brought him up the rocks. + + ABBOT--You should have told me that. (_He walks to and fro._) + + LOUIS-- Where is he now? + + ABBOT--He had four golden letters to put on. + + LOUIS--Down in the village at his work again! + Why, Father! + + ABBOT-- He insisted. + + LOUIS-- (_Under his breath._) Benedict! (_A silence._) + + ABBOT--Get ready and go down. A word from him, + And down the abbey falls. + + LOUIS--Never to rise. + + ABBOT--And yet-- + I do not think he'll tell it. Rumor, you know, + Has stamped an image on the heated mind. + They never could efface it by a thought + So monsterous as that devils had turned saints + And tripped the air with angels, hand in hand, + Moving as musically as summer stars. + Having no coin that bears the face of truth + They never will suspect a counterfeit, + And so no one will put the question to him. + Unquestioned, certainly Oswald will not speak. + + LOUIS--But if he should? (_A pause._) + Awhile ago you prayed + Some god to free us from our policy. (_A pause._) + What time did he go down? + + ABBOT--Before day-break. + The town at that time would have been asleep. + + LOUIS--And Benedict, who never sleeps? + + ABBOT--Go down. + + LOUIS--Whose dragon eyes are ever open? + + (_He starts toward the dormitory._) + + ABBOT--Stay. + + LOUIS--Supposing Oswald has already told? + If he has, Benedict will come up here + Raging as upon a den of wolves. Then. + If he should say: "Ha! So it was the dwarf + And not an angel saved your monk. And here + You pass the deed off as a miracle + To swell your abbey's revenues and rob + Me of the alms of my parishioners?" + He sees me coming down the mountain side + And shouts this at me, and I say to him--? + + ABBOT--Surprised, amazed, you lift your hands: "Mon Dieu! + A son of Satan save St. Giles' child! + Do devils, then, wait upon men of God + Working salvation? Do they? If they do, + What means this storm of banners in the dawn, + This, 'Dieu le volt!' and these bright harnassed knights + Trampling the Orient into battle smoke? + Why this vast tumult in the dead sunrise? + If devils will take up arms and fight for God, + Why roll these human surges down the East + To smoke and break about the Sepulcher + In hard white foam from which the ravens fly? + Let Hell lead forth her legions from the pit + Impervious to drought and pain alike, + To take and guard the Tomb. No, Father, no. + 'Tis blasphemy, the unforgiven sin, + To ascribe to Hell a deed that God hath done." + + LOUIS--Says Father Benedict: "But brother Oswald + Told me himself it was the witch's son." + + ABBOT--"Mon Dieu again! Could Father keep his wits + After a fall like that, and, rising, say: + 'This is the hand that struck me, this that saved'? + It was the dwarf that threw the brother down." + With words like these, chisels of policy, + Upon the shield of each returning knight + That hath spilt blood about the Sepulcher, + We carve an angel that shall plead our cause + Through all the fields and villages of France + And far on into the North and--Ah, this train! + This train shall be the trumpet that shall blow + Our miracle abroad through Italy, + And Italy is the trumpet of the world. + Talk to the strangers then of shooting stars, + Of sounds of heavenly music in the night, + But only when a question calls it forth. + Climbing the tree gives flavor to the fruit. + Be reticent; that will add majesty. + Appear subdued and point to yonder peaks + Where, in the gray dawn, gleams of vanishing wings + Shone on the mountain snows like molten gold. + You understand? About the witch's son, + _Adeste cum silentio._ + + (_After passing out through the gate, the Abbot + turns and calls after Louis, who is crossing + the court._) + + Louis, + No word as yet to Oswald of the dream. + He would not see the glory of it now, + Only the horror. I should fear the result. + + BASIL-- (_Coming from behind the chapel._) + Macias is coming with another sorel. (_Louis enters the dormitory._) + Bah, then! Go on. St. Christopher. Plum-head. + + (_Drawing himself up as Rene and Simon come from + behind the chapel._) + + I am the Prior. Down, St. Peter! John! + + RENE-- (_To Simon._) + Matthew, thou publican! + + SIMON-- Bacchus, thou saint! + + (_He points forward to the corner of the dormitory + where Pierre and his companions enter with + the wine vessels which they proceed to place + beside the wall._) + + BASIL--Simply the old clothes of My Lady Wine. + + FIRST MONK--The blessed Virgin grant it be the train. + I had half yielded to old Andrew's dream; + I feared the train was lost. + + SECOND MONK-- Another dream? + + FIRST MONK--Last night, between the glances of the moon, + While his soul grabbled in the fogs of sleep, + He beheld Father's new cope in a brook, + Swishing against a fallen sycamore. + The censer and the golden chalices + Lay gleaming on the gravel. + + SIMON-- (_Who has been tipping the casks._) + And the wine? + + FIRST MONK--While he was hunting for it in his dream, + Like a blind weasel for a nest of eggs, + And had his hand on what felt like a skin, + The matins rang. He's been gruff ever since. + There's not a holy bell can call to prayer + To smooth our spirits with the thought of God, + But brings him from his hole with ruffled quills, + Threatening the belfry with his palmer's staff. + He says he hopes the Devil has snared the train + And spurred the asses off the bluffs to Hell. + + SIMON--Now God forbid, with all that precious wine! + + LEO-- (_To Basil._) + I shall tell Father on you. + + BASIL--(_Imitating Leo's small voice._) Hear him roar! + + RENE--If you roar, Lion, when the hunter comes-- + + SOLOMAN-- (_Leaning out of the window._) + _Heus, heus, O fratres, favete linguis!_ + The train is safe. The tigers of the god + Are ramping down the mountain, yoked in vines + Whose dangling clusters sway their tawny backs + And purple all the sky above the peaks. + Limp in the car the noisy Bromios + Tips the full cup and stains his ivory breast. + Look, yonder his herald, plump Silenus, comes! + + (_He points up the mountain over the gate through + which the Abbot passed._) + + RENE--Ho, that's the occasion of the trumpet blast! + + FIRST MONK--No need of casks. + + BASIL-- No need of empty casks. + This is keel that draws five fathoms full. + + RENE--And where it anchors, there a reef appears. + + BASIL--And where it founders, there the--sea goes down. + + RENE--Its beak hath ta'en the color o' the wave. + + SIMON-- (_To_ FIRST MONK.) + If Father Benedict had had the train + Or been among the muleteers, I'd say + No wonder Andrew couldn't find the wine. + + RENE--Come on, Simon; let's go meet Macias. + + BASIL--If we can't wine it we can dine it. + + SIMON--(_As he passes Leo._) Bah! + + LOUIS-- + + (_Dressed for travel, appearing at the corner of + the dormitory._) + + Are they in sight yet? + + PIERRE-- It was not the train. + 'Twas Father Benedict. + + (_Louis stands as one stunned._) + + What can it mean? + + (_Louis crosses the court and takes a position at + the corner of the chapel near the gate._) + + FIRST MONK--He never came as early as this before. + + SECOND MONK--And see how worried Father looks. + + PIERRE-- I fear + That some one has told Oswald of the dream, + And he has fainted. + + FIRST MONK-- I will loiter about. + + (_With his eyes upon the ground the monk saunters + over toward the chapel steps and, apparently + absorbed in telling his beads, loiters about + in order to overhear the conversation. The + Abbot enters, followed by Father Benedict + leading an ass. Green twigs are stuck about_ + _the bridle. The Abbot appears thoughtful._) + + ABBOT--What do you mean by wolves? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Wild paws that prey + Upon the fold. + + ABBOT-- And by the fold, you mean--? + + FATHER BENEDICT--The Church. + + ABBOT-- These wolves live on the mountains here? + + FATHER BENEDICT--They do. + + ABBOT-- And are not far? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Some are not far. + Within an eyeshot of the peaks. + + ABBOT-- And some + Have even made this abbey here their den? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Would make it so. + + ABBOT-- And from these holy halls + Steal forth and prey--well, let us say, upon + Your flock? + + FATHER BENEDICT--They have preyed there. + + ABBOT-- Since when? + + FATHER BENEDICT--And with the fleeces wiped their heathen mouths, + These wolves of Hell. + + ABBOT-- Benedict! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Ay, wolves of Hell. + Hear what I say. Ah, Father, Father! + Sometimes we think our Lord is dead in heaven, + His enemies so thrive upon the earth. + We see the Devil's squatters on our lands + With deeds that seem to bear the seal of Heaven; + Yea, everything they do seems blest of Heaven. + They plow and sow; God gives them sun and rain. + Their fields wave green; the frosts are kept at bay. + They build their barns; Heaven holds her storms in leash + And seems to slumber while the singing foe + Silver their scythes beneath the harvest moon. + But when the season plumps the golden ears + And Satan brings his sacks to get the grain, + God puts his sickle in and takes the crop. + + ABBOT--Or sends a reaper? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Ay, sends Benedict. + When vines are bending and the song is heard + Of Bacchus revelling in the bubbling must, + The golden trumpets of the sun in heaven + Proclaim a festival and wake the skies. + Angels come tripping to the foaming vats + And, while the devils tread the vintage out, + Brim their bright casks with gushing purple meath + To crown the crystal goblets of the saints, + Leaving the pulp to slop the swine of Hell. + + ABBOT--In you I see an angel? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- With a cask. + + ABBOT--And in the abbey here I see the vat? + + FATHER BENEDICT--A goblet. + + ABBOT-- And in myself a-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Saint. + + ABBOT-- Ha! (_Searching the Priest's face._) + I do not understand you, Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Then I will put it this way: See this garb? + You know I am a shepherd. + + ABBOT-- Yes, I know. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And tend a flock of sheep. + + ABBOT-- I know you do. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And sheep have wool? + + ABBOT-- Yes. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Now we go afield. + Do briers grow in pastures? (_The Abbot nods._) + And have flukes? + + ABBOT--I see. You mean to say that flukes tear wool. + + FATHER BENEDICT--That's what I mean. + + ABBOT-- That, therefore, from the shears + The fleece comes lighter to the shepherd's hands. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And to the Master's. + + ABBOT-- Ha! but in this case-- + For your insinuation I perceive + Clearly, I think;--well, in this case, I say, + It does not follow that the Master gets + Less tribute from the flock; for, Benedict, + Remember this: When God's bright seraphim + Collect His revenues, it matters not + Whether it be your hand that pays, or mine. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Provided your hand pays, it matters not. + + ABBOT--Ah, now you leave your figure. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- And take yours. + + ABBOT--You climbed the mountain, then--? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- To get my wool. + + ABBOT--And chop the brier? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- That belonged to God. + + ABBOT--Then tell me this: If it belonged to God, + How then do you, His shepherd, claim the wool + That God's own flukes have pulled from his own sheep? + + FATHER BENEDICT--You do not understand. + + ABBOT-- I think I do. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I did not mean the brier was God's, but this: + That it belonged to God to chop it down. + + ABBOTABBOT--The brier, then, has fallen? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Praise the saints. + + ABBOT--You came to tell me how the blow was struck? + + FATHER BENEDICT--I stopped to tell you how I got my wool. + + ABBOT--You need not. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Why? + + ABBOT-- I know. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You know? + + ABBOT-- I do. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I have not spoken since I left him. + + ABBOT-- Well. + + FATHER BENEDICT--How did you learn it, then? + + ABBOT-- I had a seed. + Your coming was the sun, your words the shower; + It could not help but put forth leaves and bloom. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Strange, very strange. + + ABBOT-- To see a stalk with flukes + Put forth a bloom? 'Tis not unnatural. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I do not understand. + + ABBOT-- Nor I. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What? + + ABBOT-- This: + How that a shepherd could believe a wolf + Had suckled a lost lamb. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What do you mean? + + ABBOT--That it is strange that you, a priest of God, + Could see an angel's track upon a slope + And say: "Here went a devil up the rocks." + + FATHER BENEDICT--It is too dark. + + ABBOT-- 'Twill ever be too dark + To see aught but an angel in that gulch. + + FATHER BENEDICT--'Tis midnight. + + ABBOT-- No; for yonder peaks are flushed, + And there bright wings are wasting in the dawn. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Father, what do you mean? + + ABBOT--(_Closing his eyes._) Listen, Benedict. + In an old abbey down in Italy + There hangs an ancient chime of seven bells. + Oft when a child I heard them in the dawn + Singing like angels in the Apennines, + Their tones so blended, so harmoniously + Tuned to the planets that, when twilight fell, + They were the echoes of the Pleiades. + Those old, old bells! I hear them still sometimes. + We children called them by the golden names + Archangels wear. Well, in a storm one night + Raphael went down. Some say a huge black hand + Strangled him in his tower and hurled him down. + And others say--mark, Benedict--that God-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--Anathema! + + ABBOT-- God's hand that shaped the spheres + And hung them in the belfry of the night + To ring through heaven an universal mass, + And set the holy bells of earth in tune, + And set our hearts in tune with holy bells. + That, in the blue cathedral of the air, + One chant might rise from hearts and bells and spheres, + Some say that His, God's hand, threw down that bell. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I say, anathema! + + ABBOT-- And so you think--? + + FATHER BENEDICT--I think it was the foul hand of Hell. + + ABBOT-- Ah? + Since withered faces skir along the sky, + Might it have been some--witch? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I said the hand + And that includes the fingers. + + ABBOT-- So it does. + Well, Benedict, there you and I are one. + We hold that that which jangles God's great chime. + Whether it strike a sphere or a bell or a heart, + Springs from the pit and hath its root in Hell. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Ay, we agree. + + ABBOT-- Then follow the same path + And you shall see your seraph of the night + Bleed out his strength upon the spears of dawn. + 'Twas thought that Raphael's tumbling down the rocks + Had wrecked his silver voice, and so he lay + Three years half-sunken in a slimy marsh, + His golden throat choked up with water-weeds + And fetid lilies breathing of the swamp. + 'Twas said that oft when morning woke the bells + Upon the heights, a drowned voice was heard, + A strangled booming in the marsh-fogs. Well. + One Sabbath while the morning star still burned + A lone white taper, on a sudden from his couch + The ancient bellman started. The old chime + Was singing in its tower, and, like a thrush + That eyeless hath escaped a narrow cage, + The voice of Raphael on his bough again + Rang through the woods. The eagles on the crags + Shook out their wings and circled in the sky; + The mountain shepherds shouted from the rocks, + While down the ether, flaming out of the East, + Melodious angels in the sun-burst sang. + + (_With his eyes burning and fixed upon the Priest._) + + Now, Benedict, who lifted up that bell? + + FATHER BENEDICT--'Twas God reclaimed it and restored His chime. + + ABBOT--And if that bell had been a--soul, who then? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Still God. + + ABBOT-- And if that soul had been-- (_Vehemently._) + Oswald? + + (_For a moment they look into one another's eyes, + the Abbot with a penetrating glance, the + Priest with a look of blank amazement. The + Abbot quickly drops his head and walks aside, + his face almost white, the drawn mouth and + furrowed brow showing a mind in desperation, + casting about for an escape._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With rising resentment._) + What does this mean? + + (_The monk, who a few yards back has been + pacing to and fro in order to overhear + the conversation, has stopped and stands + observing them. He has the same bewildered_ + _expression as the Priest. The face of Louis + near the corner of the chapel reflects the + palor and perturbation of the Abbot's._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You put my faith to test? (_A pause._) + A damned insult! + + (_His brow darkens and he turns aside. Suddenly his + face lights up as with a revelation._) + + Ah, I see what it means. + Out with it, Father. Speak what God commands. (_A pause._) + Before you speak I know what you will say. (_A pause._) + Out of pure envy you are silent. + + (_He turns away. While the Priest and the Abbot + walk about, each occupied with his own + thought, Pierre and his two companions + approach and stand a few yards away, + observing them._) + + ABBOT--(_With a glance toward the Priest_.) Out--? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Without turning._) + Of envy, or else fear that I would shrink. + You need not, though. + + ABBOT--(_Stopping._) I fear that you would shrink? + + FATHER BENEDICT--To you, too, my great honor has been revealed. + + (_A pause._) + + ABBOT--I do not understand you, Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Turning and facing the Abbot._) + Why do you hide it from me? + + ABBOT-- What are you + Hiding from me? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You feared that I would shrink + To tear those jaws upon the mountain side. + Your dropping of your eyes shows I am right. + + ABBOT-- (_Walking aside, composed._) + I was not sure. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Why did you think that God + Had revealed it only to you? + + ABBOT-- I was not sure + That what I had in mind you had in mind. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And you thought you would feel about and see + If I knew it. And if I did not, "Truth, retire. + Do not obtrude yourself on Benedict. + He knows the hunter's dream. If he cannot + Discover whose hands those were the hunter saw + Reach through the green boughs of the Tree of Life + And tear the hell-jaws from the holy deer, + It is not your fault. And I lose no glory. + It is his own crass mind. He comes from Rome. + Florence is Athens come to life again." + + ABBOT--Envy, you think? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I know it. When you asked + Whose hand it was that lifted up that bell, + I knew that you were feeling me about + To see if I knew that the hand was mine. + Had I not known it, do you suppose I think + You would have told me? Of your own accord: + "Benedict, God hath chosen you for this. + Be faithful to it. The glory is yours"? Not much. + You pride yourself on what you think is God, + Your erudition. But I know some things. (_He walks aside._) + + ABBOT--It is hard to know what another has in mind. + + FATHER BENEDICT--It may be hard for the Athenians. + + ABBOT--I am an old man, Benedict, and with + White hair the eyes blur and the mind dulls. You, + Vigorous in body and in intellect. + Scale heights I cannot climb. Bear with me, then. + If I just now, forgetting youth is past, + Ventured to tilt with you, is it not enough + That you stand there triumphant while I here + Lie prostrate with my gray hairs in the dust? + + (_He bows his head and walks to the rear._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With a superior air._) + Rome is Jerusalem, the city of God. + + (_Biting down his smile, Louis advances, his face + assuming a doleful expression._) + + LOUIS-- (_In a low voice, barely hiding his irony._) + Don't treat the old man that way, Benedict. + You do not know how keenly Father feels + The issue of this bout. Amazed I stood + Just yonder by the chapel steps and watched + Your spears break into fire. O Benedict, + What skill, what skill, what admirable skill! + + FATHER BENEDICT--In dialectics I do boast some skill. + + LOUIS--Compared to Father's admirable skill! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With a leer toward the Abbot._) + For what I have I thank no heathen sage. + + LOUIS--With that composure which the gods must feel + Your reached your spear and slipped his lady's glove-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--His lady's glove? + + LOUIS-- The secret from his heart + In spite of all his desperate guarding it. + + (_Guido comes from the dormitory with a large book + under his arm. As he passes toward the chapel + he turns his burden toward the Abbot, who + gives it an unconcerned glance and walks + right._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Why should he hide it from me? + + LOUIS-- I can't say. + Father is not a man to show his heart. + He no doubt had his reason for it. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Humph! + + LOUIS--I do know, though, that Father admires you. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + Admires me? + + LOUIS-- Yes. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Scorns me. + + LOUIS-- You are wrong. + + FATHER BENEDICT--How do you know he does? + + LOUIS-- Before you came, + Father had just conceived of a great temple + With you in large space on the entablature. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Opening his eyes._) + That is another proof he knew that I + Was to have part in that great enterprise + And achieve glory. And he lied to me. + + (_The Abbot speaks to Pierre, who turns and goes + out, right._) + + LOUIS--You may mistake what Father had in mind. + He may have thought it would be policy + To keep you in the dark about this thing. + + FATHER BENEDICT--What cause had he to fear that I would shrink + To face the glory of the Lord that day? + 'Tis only guilt that fears to face the Lord. + + LOUIS--You may mistake what Father had in mind. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Too subtle, I suppose, for my dull brain. + + LOUIS--I do not think, though, that he envies you. + + FATHER BENEDICT--You may have your opinion. + + LOUIS-- You may not. + I mean you may not know what Father means. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + You two know everything. + + LOUIS-- I know one thing. + You would not have said, "You two know everything," + If you had been here half an hour ago. (_Walking aside._) + With you in large space on the entablature. + + FATHER BENEDICT--He need not think that God revealed to him + Alone my glory, for I knew it, too. + Blood appeared on my hands the other night, + And while the congregation sat amazed, + The altar cups took fire, and a white dove-- + + (_To the Abbot, who has drawn near._) + + The night the brother fell I saw some things + During service would have made my hair stand up + Had I been less courageous than I am, + Or less near God. You would have quaked with fear, + And sought the books of some old heathen sage + For explanation. I--I went to God, + With the result that I am ready now. + I have been shown the blood of that great hound. + + (_He looks at his hand._) + + And I have got God's meaning. I am called. + Now, when the chase starts I will make my way + Up to the mountain tops and meet the Lord, + And Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell. + + (_He espies the wine vessels over against the + dormitory wall and goes toward them, pulling + the ass by the bridle._) + + ABBOT--What did you come up here to see me for? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Stopping._) + Come up to see you? + + ABBOT-- You are here. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I am. (_A pause._) + It seems you don't know how I got my wool. + + (_He continues his way across the court. Louis and + the Abbot whisper together. In the rear, from + behind the chapel, Macias, the hunter, enters + with a young deer upon his back, and at his + belt a brace of geese. Simon is holding one + of the fowls by the tip of its wing, Basil_ + _and Rene following._) + + BASIL--What'll you have, Simon? + + SIMON-- Collops and sauce. + + BASIL--Pluck-pudding or crupper? + + SIMON-- Both, God bless us. + + BASIL-- Both! + + RENE--Goose, too? + + SIMON-- Ay, stuffed with plums. + + BASIL-- Why, you just had + A hunk of beef. + + SIMON-- Sh! (_He points to the Abbot._) + + RENE--(_Nudging him._) Basil, see the twigs. + + (_The jesters chuckle and come forward toward the + Priest, while the hunter and Simon pass + out behind the dormitory. The Abbot also + approaches the Priest, followed a few feet + back by Louis._) + + LOUIS--(_Huskily._) Be wary, Father; it may be a snare. + + ABBOT--A little wine will bring it to the light. + + BASIL--Well, it is spring when asses put forth leaves. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Ay, rue that devils flee from in the dark. + + (He looks into the casks.) + + ABBOT--But when you left the town the dawn was bright. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The dawn was bright? + + ABBOT-- The day is two hours old. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_After a long look at the Abbot._) + When I rode out of town the sun's red car + Stood hub-deep in the western ocean's sand. + I met the morning on the mountain tops + Fresh dropt from heaven, with one golden wing + Bright on the pines, the other softly sheathed + In valley shadows thinning round her plumes. + The night I spent far back among the hills. + For three hours in the darkness on the road + I staked my life upon the ass' step + And ass and life upon these slips of rue. + + (_He thrusts his switch into the narrow necked + diotas, and drawing it out, feels the end._) + + If any manna fell upon the heights + The Devil must have harvested the flakes: + I found none on the way. + + ABBOT-- I fear the fiend + Has washed it down with our good Tuscan wine + And dressed Hell's tables with the golden cups + The Abbot Boldi sent from Aosta. + The tide is out and the Italian moon + Has slipped her sphere that ruled the purple flood. + These are the empty shells that held the sea. + + (_Pierre enters, carrying a flagon and a silver + cup. Simon follows him._) + + Have something, Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Ah, you are good. + + ABBOT--What could have drawn you back among the hills + When every pass was choked with drizzling dag? + + FATHER BENEDICT--I'm like a desert. + + RENE--(_To Basil._) And there flows the Nile. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_To the Abbot._) + The service of our Lord that knows no flaw, + Mountains or darkness or the voice of storms. + Last night--Fill it up.--Last night God's--There.-- + Last night God's dread apparitor-- (_He drinks._) + + ABBOT-- What's that? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Tasting his lips._) + Rumney, isn't it? + + ABBOT-- Not that-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With mock seriousness._) + Isn't it? + + ABBOT-- I mean-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--Pour me another, then; I'll taste again. + + (_Pierre pours._) + + ABBOT--You said God's dreadful summoner-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Appeared. + And clapped his irons on old-- + + (_He drinks and again holds the cup toward Pierre._) + + ABBOT-- Benedict,-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--One more. + + ABBOT-- Don't think-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- The night is in my veins. + + BASIL--(_To Rene._) It's a dry night. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Holding up the cup._) + But the red dawn is breaking-- (_He drinks._) + + RENE-- (_To Basil._) + The abbey here. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And lightening-- (_He drinks._) + + BASIL--(_To Rene._) The great deep. + + RENE--Come, sing the matins, Simon, for the dawn-- + + ABBOT--Don't think it is the wine I care for. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Ha! + The cup, eh?--Take it. + + (_He hands the cup to Pierre and leads the ass back + to one of the benches, upon which he climbs + and stands fixing the saddle._) + + ABBOT-- A while ago you said + God's dreadful summoner appeared. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Yes. + (_Pierre goes out._) Whoa! + + SIMON-- (_Following Pierre._) + Pierre. + + PIERRE--No. + + SIMON-- Just a tiff. + + PIERRE-- No, I say. + + SIMON-- (_Supplicating._) Brother! (_Spitefully._) + Dinky! Bed-bug! Pizzle-wizzle! (_With a grimace._) + U-g-h! (_He spits at him and turns back._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Who has mounted._) + Now if you get my switch, I think I'll go. + + (_One of the monks stoops and picks up the switch, + which he hands to the Priest, who looks from + the Abbot to Louis and then from Louis to the + Abbot._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--You see, I could ride off without one word. + + LOUIS--Without one word of what? + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Contemptuously._) One word of what! + You think I came from town and so does he. + + ABBOT--What of it? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Simply this: that I did not. + + ABBOT--We are glad to have learned that. + + LOUIS-- Delighted. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Humph! + And you don't wish to know where I have been? + + ABBOT--'Tis immaterial. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- That is another proof + You envy me. First, you conceal from me + That which you feared would blow my name abroad; + And now you fear to hear where I have been + Because from what you know of me you know + Whatever comes I meet events as friends, + And never sally out but I return + With spoil, and that stirs up the green in you. + Now I will tell it though the heavens fall. + Old Hartzel's dead. + + ABBOT-- I find no joy in that. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Of course, you don't. + + RENE--(_Calling across the court._) Old Hartzel's dead! + + BASIL--(_Under his breath._) Thank God! + + (_The monks upon the chapel steps and others + sitting about upon the benches start up and + gather forward._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--You don't think I told that to give you joy? + + ABBOT--It matters nothing to me in either case. + + FATHER BENEDICT--But this will matter something. Listen now. + + (_Leaning over and speaking in the Abbot's ear_.) + + I get his forty neat and all the land + Between the river and the raddle-hedge + South of the village, with the acreage + Of tilth and vines that fronts the rising sun + Near the White Torrent. Does _that_ give you joy? + + (_He strikes the ass with the switch and starts + left._) + + BASIL--(_Aloud._) Thank _God!_ + + ABBOT--(_Lifting his hand._) This is the work of Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Stopping._) You mean that as reproach? + + ABBOT--I simply mean + We had no hand in this; the glory is yours. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Come with me. + + (_He rides on toward the gate. The Abbot walks + beside him. Louis, behind, where he cannot + be seen, follows them. The bell rings and + the monks move toward the chapel and enter, + leaving the court bare._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You remember, I suppose, + As we clashed spears a while ago I said + The abbey here was a goblet, and you a saint. + I might say that I spoke in irony, + But that would not be nice. + + ABBOT-- And you said, too, + Something about an angel with a cask. + + FATHER BENEDICT--That is a cut at me. I recollect. + I said that I would fill your cup. + + ABBOT-- Proceed. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Leaning over._) + Of this estate you get one cow. You hear? + That's a fine liquor, eh, Father? (_To the ass._) Come up. + + (_Pierre comes from the dormitory and crosses the + court toward the chapel._) + + You are an old man and your work is done. + You may retire now and live on milk. + 'Twill nourish that great intellect of yours. + + LOUIS-- (_Under his breath._) + As well as anything that you could give. + + ABBOT--I welcome anything that can do that. + + FATHER BENEDICT--If it be heathen. + + ABBOT-- Benedict, before you came + Louis and I were talking of the things + That late have happened. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- The dream. + + ABBOT-- Oswald's fall + And his unnatural rescue from the gulch. + + FATHER BENEDICT--'Twas _super_natural, not _un_natural. + + ABBOT--A nice discrimination, Benedict. + I do not see as you do. You were trained + By masters who, no doubt, had they heard this + Distinction, would have said: "_Benissime!_" + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Superciliously._) + Well done is _optime._ + + ABBOT--(_With mock humility._) Just so--just so-- + My master would have said--yes, _optime._ + A boon it is that words cannot change things. + + (_Pierre, who has climbed the steps slowly, + listening the while, enters the chapel._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--You feared that I would shrink to play my part? + + ABBOT--We feared if you should learn what your part is-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--That I would shrink? + + ABBOT-- If you should learn your part. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Getting angry._) + You feared that I would shrink? + + ABBOT--(_Hesitatingly._) W-e-l-l-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _Say_ it. + + ABBOT-- Yes. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Shaking his finger._) + Deep in your heart you wish I would, old man. + 'Twould fill your soul with joy. But mark you this: + To give you joy is not my destiny. + + (_He rides out through the gate._) + + ABBOT--Your destiny, Benedict, is in God's hand. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Thank God it's not in yours. (_A pause._) + + ABBOT-- You must go down. + Oswald, by noon, will have finished up his work. + Stay with him till he does, then bring him back. + + LOUIS--If I go now, though, Benedict will suspect + Something is up. + + (_The Abbot goes toward the steps, Louis half + following him._) + + As it is, he does not know + That Oswald has returned to work. (_A pause._) Besides, + After his long, hard ride he will want rest. + He will not go near the church. (_A pause._) + What do you say? (_A pause._) + I will go after service. + + ABBOT-- (_After a pause_.) Very well. + + (_He enters the chapel, followed by Louis._) + + + _SCENE THREE--A street in the village showing a low thatched + cottage with a door made accessible by steps. To the left + of the door is a small square open window, on the sill of + which are garden plants and pots of winter flowers put + there to get the morning sun. In the corner of the yard, + right, is a well with an old wooden wheel high up on posts. + At the end of the chain hanging from it is a bucket from + which water is leaking back into the well._ + + _Madam Valmy, the country-woman who has just come to town and + who has a basket upon her arm, has stopped before the house + and is looking intently left._ + + MADAM VALMY--Aunt Rachel! + + A VOICE--(_Back in the house._) Yes. + + MADAM VALMY--(_After a pause._) O auntie! + + THE VOICE-- Yes, child, yes. + I get this dough off. Rosa! + + (_From the right, Madam Bacqueur enters. She is + bareheaded and carries a child in her arms._) + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Every day + Some dark deed sends a shudder through all hearts. + Who is it this time? + + MADAM VALMY-- No one seems to know. + It happened on the mountain, Rosa said. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--I wonder if Father Benedict has returned? + + MADAM VALMY--Returned from where? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- He rode away last night + Into the mountains. I do hope and pray-- + + (_They stand looking left. From the right, Hugh + Capet enters hurriedly. Reaching over the + fence to the well he swings the bucket to his + mouth._) + + You know so many strange and evil things + Have happened lately. Just a week ago + Old mother Sar was palsied. Then young Foy, + In the dead of night, saw witch-fire on the heath. + Next day two cows, their udders drizzling blood, + Ran snorting down the road into the wood, + And all the village curs that ventured out + Came yelping to their kennels cramped with fear + As though the devils chased them. + + MADAM VALMY-- Did you ever! + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- (To Hugh Capet who hurries out, left.) + You will come back and tell us what it is? + + HUGH CAPET--That all depends, Madam, that all depends. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--Indeed they did. And that's not all. Thursday + A black stone fell from heaven. Father said + It was a challenge. And that very night + Occurred a wonder during complines. Yes, + The golden chalices in the church took fire + And circled round the altar. Blood appeared + On Father's hands, and while all sat amazed, + Looking to see him caught away to heaven, + A snow-white dove flew through the trancept wall, + The Holy Spirit, Father says. You know + The canvass that they keep covering the cross + That Oswald carves, round that it whisked and moaned, + And Rachel says she heard the voice of Christ + Under the canvass: "It will not be done." + Meaning the cross, I thought; but Father says: + "Maybe it means God's will will not be done," + And so it proved. Disaster came at dawn. + Pierre, the sacristan of good St. Giles, + Brought the news down to Father Benedict. + But you have heard of the great miracle? No? + And all the world has heard of it? + + MADAM VALMY-- You know + I have not been to town since Sunday week. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--Oh, angels have fluttered down on us since then! + And will again, so Father says. La me! + I tell you, Madam Valmy, if any grave + In the churchyard there had jumped a horrid ghost + To stalk the moonlight in a rotten shroud, + There'd be less stir among the village folk. + I know not how it was. It seems they found + The dear monk, Oswald, bruised and bathed with blood, + + (_She clasps her child to her heart + passionately._) + + Lying before the monastery gate. + + MADAM VALMY--Why, Clotilde! + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Yes, indeed. And _that's_ not all. + To think we slept through all of it! To think + We did not wake and cry out, "God is here!" + And then run up and down and ring the bells. + Oh, expectation kindles every bush + For our Lord's coming. + + MADAM VALMY-- What? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Oh, everything! + How wonderful are mountains angels' feet + Have trodden on! How beautiful the air! + Oh, everything seems different to me now. + I half expect to see the stone put forth + A human face and speak to me of God. + Dear Madam Valmy, trees are not really trees. + As Father says, all things have passed away, + And with the miracle the other night + Our Lord begins his reign upon the earth. + For hours I sit and look in my child's face + And wonder if he sees. + + MADAM VALMY-- What? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- (_Holding up her child._) + Fire! fire! + O child, child, see the fields, the glory-- + + A VOICE--(_To the right._) Fire? + + JULES BACQUEUR-- (_Entering._) + Where is the fire? + + MADAM VALMY--The crowd, you see. + + JULES BACQUEUR-- Whose house? + + MADAM VALMY--Rosa ran in and said some one was hurt. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--Don't you go with them, husband. + + (_The smith goes out, left._) + + Jardin's been + Trying to get the men to storm the heights + And kill the heathen and the witch. + + THE VOICE--(_Back in the house._) Rosa! + + MADAM VALMY--She is not here. And he is still alive? + + MADAM BACQUEUR--There's not a night since the dear brother fell + But what I've heard her on the roof. + + MADAM VALMY-- Clotilde! + + MADAM BACQUEUR--But oh, the Holy Ghost was with him. Yes, + His staff they found next morning and his hood-- + Thank God for that--they found his hood and staff + Down in the gorge, full forty feet below + The mountain road. + + MADAM VALMY-- Not over the steep gray bluff! + + MADAM BACQUEUR--Think of a fall like that! At break of day + They found him at the monastery gate + Unconscious, carried there by unseen hands-- + + MADAM VALMY--What! + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Yes, indeed. And those who found him saw + Archangels sitting on the mountain tops + With golden shields, and there were sounds of war + Far off as they were fighting in the clouds; + Driving the witches off to hell, no doubt. + + MADAM VALMY--On _these_ mountains? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- And even _that's_ not all. + + MADAM VALMY-- (_Putting her arms about her._) + Dear Madam Bacqueur. + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- I get so dizzy. + You must have Rachel tell you. I won't fall. + + (_She takes hold of the fence._) + + Such wonders and such cures and things to come. + I dare not think of much less speak of that. + Such brilliance, la! You should see Father's face + How it lightens when he speaks of it. His eyes + Look far away across the glory fields. + "Bretheren, this miracle is but the blossom + Whose fruit shall fall in fire upon the world. + Pray, all of you, that you may be perpared." + + MADAM VALMY--For what? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- (_Catching her breath._) + I am afraid I-- + + MADAM VALMY-- Don't try, then. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--There is a glory far off in the air. + Father has seen it and his eyes are bright. + _So_ bright. Rachel will tell you. Or it may be + He sees the pilgrims that shall gather here. + This morning Marie heard two brothers say + There's sure to be a shrine where Oswald fell. + Think of it, Madam Valmy, these streets thronged + With holy men that live beyond the sea. + I never even thought to pray for that. + God does all things so easily, though. And-- + And all for his dear sake. But I don't know. + The Scriptures say Satan shall be let loose. + + MADAM VALMY--The shrine? Indeed I do. + In the last days; in these days, then. Do you? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- How good of you! + You always did have so much faith. + + MADAM VALMY-- You know + The day your child was christened-- + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Oh, how true! + How like a star his _name_ will shine! + + MADAM VALMY-- I now + Predict again. He'll be a saint. + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- (_In utter amazement._) + A-- + + MADAM VALMY-- Saint. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--You think he will? Oh, do you, Madam Valmy? + Do you, indeed? Oh, think of what that means + To little Oswald here! To wear a name + A blessed saint hath worn and given him + With his own lips at the baptismal font; + To see a white hand beckon from the sky + And hear forever in each vesper chime + A saint's clear voice calling his soul to come + And flower out beneath the holy bells. + Oh, think, Fidele, some day when he is old + And in his cloister yonder on the mountain, + When the dear brothers gathered after prayer + Shall talk of holy things, and one shall say: + "My father fought with Montfort in the wars"; + Another: "I have seen St. Bavon's tree"; + And some old palmer who hath seen all shrines + Shall tell of Subiaco and the thorns + Of good St. Benedict, my boy can say: + "I grew to manhood in the little town + Down in the valley. I have never been + Beyond the mountains, but each day have heard, + Morning and night, St. Giles' dewy bells + Ring from these towers the twilight hour of prayer, + Yet was I favored. When they christened me"-- + Oh, I can see them wonder at him then, + And press about him.--"When they christened me + St. Oswald stood god-father at the font + And blessed me with his hands upon my head, + Blessed me and said: 'The Virgin keep this child.' + A neighbor said his face shone like a star, + He was so full of glory. And the night, + The night the angels brought him from the gorge + And laid him here before the abbey gate, + He wore the holy hood my mother made. + They keep it yet inside the sacred chest, + There in the chapel." (_Faint shouts far to the left._) + I am so afraid + Jules will go with them. Would you mind if I-- + + (_The cottage door opens._) + + Have Rachel tell you of that awful dream. + + (_She goes out, left. With a staff in one hand and + screening her eyes with the other, old Rachel + comes sidling down the steps. Madam Valmy + sets her basket over the fence._) + + RACHEL--Clotilde? Marie? Oh, it's Fidele! Why, child, + When did you come to town? + + MADAM VALMY-- (_Taking Rachel by the hand._) + There's some one hurt. + + RACHEL--_Fidele!_ You frighten me. That horrid word! + Who is it? + + MADAM VALMY--The crowd. + + RACHEL-- Where? + + MADAM VALMY-- Down by the church. + + RACHEL--Those heathen dogs. Are they in town? I fear-- + + (_They go out, left._) + + + _SCENE FOUR--Before the church which stands about twenty + feet back from the street. Low stone fences on either side + project in to its corners and form with its front three + sides of a hexagon. To the right, in a higher fence, also + of stone, which runs parallel with the street, is an iron_ + _gate, overgrown with vines, leading into the churchyard._ + _Between the palings can be seen white crosses marking the + graves. In the corners, just where the fences start in_ + _toward the church, stand Lombardy poplars in full foliage,_ + _one on either side. The church is built of rough stone,_ + _with irregular seams of white mortar. In the center is_ + _an arched doorway and beside it two false windows almost_ + _covered with ivy. High up over the door is seen the lower + part of a narrow louvre window with several long straws, + which the birds have carried there, hanging down from + between the slats._ + + _In the open space before the church, a crowd is gathered._ + _Upon the steps with his back to the door stands Jardin,_ + _the Bailiff. He wears a sleeveless hauberk wrought of_ + _chain, and upon his head a heavy open helmet. Some_ + _distance to the right, upon a step lower down, Jacques + Sar, wearing a leather corselet and a cap of wolf skin, is + leaning with his right hand against the church. His right_ + _arm is off near the shoulder. The crowd is made up of men, + for the most part in their working clothes. Some have no + hats on. Among the latter is Hugh Capet, whose red head + is seen far in near the steps. Jules Bacqueur, with his + sleeves rolled up, stands on the edge of the crowd. Out in + the street to the left, is a group of women. A boy is up in + the poplar tree, right._ + + _As the Scene progresses, other villagers enter, among them_ + _the women of the last Scene._ + + JARDIN--Was Jardin right last week when comrade's wife + + (_With a motion toward old Jacques._) + + Fell palsied and he said: "Let's kill the witch; + Next thing she'll strike some brother." Was he right? + Was he? In here is a cross can tell you. + Is the cross done? Can any man say why? + The holy monk that carves it, where is he? + Up yonder on the mountain in his cell, + Nigh unto death. Only the Virgin's hands + That plucked him from the pit can save his life. + And who's to blame? Who is to blame, men? Eh? + You men that shout to sail out to the East + And swell about the neck as vipers do, + Blowing against the Moslems, what do you say + To the heathen on the mountain up there, eh? + Twenty moons and more have risen and set + Since they took up their station 'neath the stars + And, in collusion with the hag of hell, + Shook pestilence and death upon the air. + Planets have knocked and fire has fallen and blood + Has drizzled over all this region. Eh? + What do you think our Lord thinks of these things? + Rescue the mountains; they are His Sepulcher. + You want to see Golgotha? _There_ it is. + A mountain with a heretic on its peak + Is like a spear thrusting a bitter sop + Up to our Lord's lips even in heaven. You men + Who see the sop and leave it there are Jews. + + HUGH CAPET--They're Maccabees. + + JARDIN-- As for Jacques Sar and me, + We'll wear these arms-- + + JACQUES SAR-- Until the Judgment Day. + + JARDIN--Till our old bodies rot, or see those peaks + Waved over with the banner of our Lord. + And you think you will live to see that chase. + You know what I would do if I were God? + + (_He draws his sword._) + + Gabriel should pass over with his sword + And pierce some heart would bow all heads in tears. + Then you would go shouting up the mountains. And + If this keeps up, you mark me what I say, + Crosses will thicken out there on that grass. + + (_He points toward the churchyard. A man reaches + out of the crowd and touches him on the leg._) + + But eat and sleep, though. Feed your coward hearts. + Then die. And then what? Then the Judgment Day. + And after that, what? Hell. + + (_He stoops down and the man talks with him in an + undertone._) + + BACQUEUR-- Who is it's dead? + + JACQUES SAR--Dead? All of us, he says, an the hag lives. + + HUGH CAPET--He's right, too. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--(_Entering, right, and hurrying to the_ + _women._) + + Is it Father Benedict? + + JARDIN-- (_Straightening up._) + It was for that that he rode back there. Eh? + Tell them? What for? What good would that do? What + Do they care if the heathen keeps his land? + I see some of you here that yesterday + Was down at Bacqueur's. Do I? Do I see you? + Somehow it seems to me I recollect + Hearing as how old Hulga'd never strike + No man no more since God had saved the monk + And maybe threw her off the cliff herself. + Did any of you hear that? Did you men? + Eh? No one, eh? So Jardin must have dreamed. + Well, in the dream then Jardin seemed to say: + "The hag will strike till we have dragged her down, + Her and her dwarf, Canzler, the big heathen, + And all his kith, and burnt them in the street." + + A VOICE--You got him in the church, Jardin? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- La, now! + + HUGH CAPET-- Down with him! + + JARDIN--Was Jardin right again? Has Hulga struck? + You'd see the ass he rode you'd think she'd struck. + Awhile ago here some one shouted out: + "Who's in the church?" I've got the arrow strung + And now I'll tell you, now I'll let it fly. + The wine train's lost; three of the mules are dead; + Two men were crushed to death; our Lord's dear blood, + Witches have poured out on the mountain rocks. + Now, has she struck? You think she has, eh? Hugh, + What did we tell them? Jacques Sar? Bacqueur? Eh? + Didn't we? + + BACQUEUR--How did it happen, Bailiff? + + JARDIN--Some one here asked if Canzler was in here. + No. Yes. What if he were or what if he is? + You think I'd tell you and see you fall dead? (_Madam_ + _Valmy enters, right, leading old Rachel by the hand._) + One of the muleteers rode in for help. + He only spoke Italian. A friar, though, + Told me his tale. Last night when the train reached + The Devil's Pass--'twas dark; the moon had sunk--Three + withered hell-hags, with the skirring clouds + Flying toward Pampeluna to their sabbath, + Lit on a gray crag. Lightning splintered blue + About them, smells of sulphur rose, and thunder + Clapped the dark rock. The mountain shook. Straightway, + Cries of the men rang out. The leaders crashed, + Dumb-smitted with horror, mules and packs and all, + Down through the chaparral to the gowle below. + The witches vanished. All the Pass was still + Save through the night the golden chalices + Clinking far down the scaur. Then on a sudden + + (_Rosa, excited, runs in, right, and hurries to the + women._) + + The grisly hags, crooning a wild song, rose + Tossing the golden cups up in the air, + And like a strip of mist went down the wind + Toward Pampeluna. What is the matter, women? + + A MAN--They say the hag's in town. + + ROSA--(_In an underbreath._) Sigurd. + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- The dwarf. + + THE MAN--They say the dwarf's in town. + + JARDIN--(_Deeply moved._) Men,--! + + THE BOY--(_Up in the tree craning his neck._) I see him! + Yonder he is by the bridge. He's got something + Shining in his hand. + + JARDIN---(_His face paling._) What was it the hunter saw + In his dream, men? What was it that roused the dogs-- + The heathen dogs to chase the brother? + + HUGH CAPET-- Blood. + + JARDIN-- (_Feeling the tip of his sword._) + To-day God stains the trail. + + A SHOUT-- Down with him! + + JARDIN-- Wait. + + THE BOY--See it! See it flash! It's a dagger! + + JARDIN-- Men! + + JACQUES SAR-- Men! + + A SHOUT--Come on, men! + + JARDIN-- Stop them, Bacqueur! Knock them down! + Bring those fools back. + + (_Hugh Capet, out in the street, waves with his + arm. The men who rushed out, right, return + sulky._) + + ONE OF THEM--Who is the coward now? + + ANOTHER--Hush, Noel. + + ANOTHER-- Let's have no trouble, men. + + JARDIN-- Silence! + + FIRST MAN--'Cause we ain't seen the wars-- + + SEVERAL-- Be quiet, Noel. + + JARDIN--Is that the way you fowlers take your birds, + Rush out and throw the net before their eyes? + Is it? And when the wolves prowl for your lambs, + You raise a shout before you stretch the string, + Do you? Here's Jacques. You think he'd have this cap + If he had yelled to the brute, "Watch for your skin," + And rushed on him waving a club? Do you? + Eh? If you do, I tell you Jardin don't; + 'N I reckon Jardin's seen a wolf or two. + This dwarf of Hulga's, you don't think he's sly, + Do you? Eh? Well, he is, sly as a newt. + You touch the stones once and you'll see him gone. + What's to be done, then? Listen to Jardin: + Deploy. You don't know what that means, do you? + Some of you here are burning for the East + To fight the Moslems. Just cry: "Allah-ho!" + And then rush on them, will you? Turks, ain't they? + + JACQUES SAR--Right. + + JARDIN-- Listen, men; I'll tell you what it means. + You've seen the falcon 'fore she strikes the hern + Open her talons, ain't you? That's deploy. + Well, then we'll open ours. Three of you fellows + Skirt the ford yonder and shut off retreat + To the cave. There's one claw open. Halt, men. + Then two detachments--Here, attention, men; + Wait for your orders.--Then two squads of three + March up that way-- (_He points left._) + and when you strike the hedge, + Right! left! one along the wold; the other + Down through the waddy; each to the river. + Then we've got him flanked. There's three claws open + And the bird is ours. Now listen. Listen men. + You men that mean to cut off his retreat, + Take spears. He'll squawk we pinch him, and the old hen, + Hearing her chick, will swoop down from the rocks. + Then's your chance; stick her. + + JACQUES SAR-- Mine! + + HUGH CAPET-- Let Jacques have her. + + JACQUES SAR--I'll fetch her head back home to mother Sar. + + (_He and the Bailiff come down into the crowd._) + + A VOICE--What if the heathen charge down on us? + + HUGH CAPET-- Bah! + + JARDIN--You think he'd leave that peak for all the world? + + HUGH CAPET--After what's happened? + + JACQUES SAR-- After this shower of blood? + + BACQUEUR--From that black planet came the thunder stone + That tore the field back there. + + HUGH CAPET-- You think he would? + + JARDIN--Now hear what Jardin says. If he could ask, + For what he suffered in the Holy Wars, + Two gifts of Heaven, and two strong saints should soar + Past the green steeples of these poplars here + And fold their white wings in that street and say: + "Soldier, what are they?" What would Jardin say? + First this: (_He steps back upon the steps._) + Up yonder is a holy monk + Whom God has blessed above all living men. + Abaddon hurled him down to take his life. + He's bruised almost to death. Saints, bring him down. + We're going to kindle such a fire here + As friends of darkness, glowering from the caves, + Shall see and then scoot shuddering to Hell. + + (_The crowd shouts._) + + Bring him down, then, and let him see the flames + Lick up the limbs that tripped him. + + JACQUES SAR-- Right. + + BACQUEUR-- You're right. + + HUGH CAPET--Let's bring him down! + + SHOUTS-- Right! Bring him! Bring him down! + + JARDIN--Here, men, put on those caps. You think you're saints? + If you can fly through air, why bring him down; + You can't, then hush and hear what Jardin says. + First then I'd say: "Bring down the monk." Then this: + There's a big fellow on the mountain tops + What calls Thor Father, spitting at our Lord. + And in the dawn when Christians gather here + To holy mass he stands upon the peaks + And scowls upon the bells. He and the witch + Are brain and bowels to some heathen god + Whose dark hand works at night beneath the hills + Sapping the towers of Christ. Saints, send him down. + Tell him to strap his big old martel on him. + He comes down here he'll feel a damaskin + That's sliced the Turks and choked the gates of hell + With ghosts of Allah, and another'll go + Bloody and hot to Thor. (_Shouts._) + Send him down, saints. + Some one here says, "If Canzler comes, what then?" + He'll die. Who'll do it? Listen: Jardin will. + + (_He comes down into the crowd that surges and + clamors about him._) + + Line up! (_He chooses nine men, whom he arranges in squads of three._) + + A MAN-- (_In the first squad._) + About those spears. + + JARDIN--Stop at the armory. + + (_He produces a great key._) + + You know your orders, do you? + + A CHORUS--We do. + + JARDIN--Jacques. + + LEAD. + + (_He hands the key to the old man, who puts + himself at the head of the first squad._) + + Bacqueur. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--No, no. + + JARDIN--Capet. + + (_The two men put themselves at the head of the + second and third squads._) + + JARDIN--March! + + MADAM BACQUEUR--(_Holding out her child._) Husband! + + (_They pass out, left. Madam Bacqueur looks after + them for a while, then lifts her skirt to her + eyes and sobs aloud._) + + RACHEL--Where are they going, child? + + JARDIN--Line up now, men. + We'll strike the front. Women, pray that the saints + May bring the monk to see this devil burn, + And send the old warlock down. He will breathe hard, + I slit his entrails once and put this foot + On his big chest. + + (_As he goes along lining up the men with his + sword, the church door opens and, pale and_ + _emaciated, the monk Oswald appears._) + + FIDELE--Clotilde! Auntie! Rosa! + + THE WOMEN--Look! Look! (_They fall upon their knees._) + + JARDIN--What is it, women! + + A MAN--Look! Look! + + (_The men cross themselves and fall prostrate. + Old Rachel and the Bailiff alone remain + standing._) + + RACHEL-- (_Screening her eyes._) + What is it, Rosa? + + FIDELE-- Auntie! auntie! + + (_She pulls old Rachel to her knees._) + + A BREATH--(_Through the crowd._) His ghost! + + OSWALD--What is the matter? + + (_Upon hearing his voice, old Rachel, who has + continued to stare toward the church, falls + with her face to the ground._) + + A MAN--(_In a low voice._) Jardin, speak. + + JARDIN-- Father. + + OSWALD--What is it? (_A pause._) What is the matter? + + JARDIN-- Is that you? + + OSWALD--What was that shouting? + + (_A silence ensues. The monk puts his palm to + his breast and coughs._) + + JARDIN--(_Completing his thought._)--these men aghast here + Calls up to Jardin's mind a night in the wars + When we were storming Acre. The Infidel, + Sallying out, had laid the Lion Heart + Low in the dust. The waves of battle clapped + Over his head. Barred in with dripping spears + Of Turk and Christian, raged the bleeding whelp, + His paws red-clotted in his own hot blood. + Cleaving the gloom, a burst of crimson light + Streamed down the slanting spears and like a prow + Rolled back the waves of war. Between the crests + Of foam-white faces holy St. Augustine + Came walking down the bodies of the dead, + And lifting the Lion, fired him. At once + Rose on the night the planet of his shield + Burning a lane before his falchion fed, + And down the slope into the Turks he swept + Through dropping shields and sabers thrown in air, + A lurid streak of flame. So Jardin now, + Seeing this blessed monk the saints have brought, + Takes fire, and blown with hate of our Lord's foes, + Will lick the crags and leap from peak to peak, + Nor shall the flame go out until the wind + Rain heathen ashes on the pit of hell. + + (_Roused by the Bailiff's words, four or five of + the men spring to their feet. The rest rise + slowly and remain mute. Oswald comes down the + steps._) + + JARDIN-- (_Knocking the men with his sword._) + Line, line up! (_A man points down the street._) + + ANOTHER-- We'll fix him, Father! + + ANOTHER--He'll never strike no holy monk again! + + ANOTHER--We'll burn the imp! + + ANOTHER-- Father shall see to it, too! + + (_The Bailiff strikes with his sword. The line + marches right, double-quick._) + + OSWALD-- (_Excitedly._) + + Stay, men! Lay no rough hands upon the boy. + + (_The line halts. The monk puts his palm to his + breast and coughs._) + + JARDIN--No rough hands on--? + + OSWALD-- The boy has done no harm. + The night I fell-- + + A MAN-- Here's Father Benedict. + + (_They wait in silence._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Ah, brother Oswald! + + (_He comes riding in, left. The women bow + reverently; the men bare their heads._) + + _Benedicite._ + You see my children gathered here about, + How glad they are to see you. + + OSWALD-- And I, Father, + To be at work once more. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Praise the Virgin. (_Dismounting._) + You show a Christian spirit coming thus, + Bruised as you are, to do the Master's work. + + OSWALD--I promised it should be done to-morrow. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- And--? + + OSWALD--I have two golden letters to put on. + + FATHER BENEDICT--God hath his eye upon our altar cross; + And on you, too, my brother. + + OSWALD-- God has been + Good to me. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The angels do His will. + + OSWALD--And even human hands-- + + (_He looks down the street._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- 'Twas marvelous. + As I came down I passed the jagged cliff + You tumbled over, and there a while I paused + Entranced, as it were, by unseen Presences. + + (_The boy, who climbed down from the tree upon the + arrival of the Priest, leads the ass out, + left._) + + The mountains wore a new and hallowed look + In the morning light. I would give half my life + To have stood upon the peaks that night and seen + God's ministers drop shining down the sky + And blaze the gorge. But God works in the dark. + At night His golden ladders are let down + And deeds are done and no man knoweth how. + At dawn we see the severed hills, the seas + Huddled aghast at some vast mountain head + That yesterday lay fathoms in the deep. + So quietly He worketh in the night + That mountain ranges rise and no babe wakes. + Who can say: "Yonder God is"? + + OSWALD-- None, Father. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- None. + The hand that executes His purposes + Is hidden like the purposes themselves. + He dwelleth in the storm and in the calm, + Yet both look round and say: "Where dwelleth He?" + The sun that shines on all, shines not on Him. + He goeth forth at night and doth His will, + Yet the moon sees Him not. I rode along + Thinking upon your providential + Escape from death that night and of the work + God hath reserved for me in the great chase, + For half the glory is mine. I prayed our Lord + That if it be His will I might catch some + Glimpse of the dogs far off. I could not see + My hand before my eyes in spirit, but + With eyelids down, rode on, probing the dark, + Sounding deep in my soul the ocean of God, + And finding there bottomless waters. + The night of ebony and the golden dawn, + The deed the past holds and the future's deed, + Rose half way up the sky and called across + Fathomless spaces: "Who are you?" And I + Thought answer: "Thou art Fall; and thou, with hair + Bright with the morning and with frightened eyes + Fleeing the noise of dogs behind thee, thou + Art Resurrection and the Peace of God." + Connection I could find none. Stark and lone + They stood upon the twilight fields of air, + Strangers, each looking in the face of each, + When through the gloaming came a glittering link + Star-like with the image of our Lord + Bleeding in silver on a silver cross, + A marriage ring that married them, and I + Deep in my soul knew the Eternal and + Saw Prophesy grappling the North and heard + Heathendom hiss and coil and loose her folds; + And then a voice filling the heavens: "Well done." + Speaking to me, for the glory is mine. + Your crucifix has not been found yet? + + OSWALD-- No. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And will not be. + + OSWALD-- It must be in the brook. + I had it in my hand just as I fell. + + FATHER BENEDICT--'Tis in the hand of God where it shall be + Until the morning breaks of that great day + When Heathendom shall tumble down to hell. + Then it shall dangle bloody from the sky + While all the mountains shake. + + OSWALD-- What do you mean? + + FATHER BENEDICT--The mountains trembled in the tempest. + + OSWALD-- When? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + During the great chase. (_A pause._) Is it possible + You start upon the chase with darkened eyes? + + OSWALD--I do not understand you. + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Aside._) Can it be + They have not told him of the dream? Mum, then. + + OSWALD--Brother Andrew told me. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- And you understand + On whom this dark calamity shall fall? + + OSWALD--It has already fallen. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Already fallen! + You think the stag is down, then, do you? + + OSWALD-- Stag? + + FATHER BENEDICT--You think the chase is run? + (_Oswald looks at him blankly._) You seem to think + The dream has been fulfilled. + + OSWALD-- I do. How not? + This last calamity fulfilled the dream. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Fulfilled? Nay, nay. The chase has not begun. + The bruised stag is resting in the grove. + The hounds of Hell have yet to strike the trail, + And when they do, my feet are on the hills, + And the loud talbot's baying shall be still. + + OSWALD--You speak as one whose joy is in the chase. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Glaring at him._) + You mean by that that I-- + + OSWALD-- I mean, Father, + You speak as those that chase the deer with hounds-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--You mean to intimate that I lead the dogs? + + OSWALD--As hunters do. (_The Priest searches the monk's_ + _face._) You spoke of a stag and a trail. + + FATHER BENEDICT--To show you that the dream is not fulfilled. + + OSWALD--Have you not heard it, then? The train is lost. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The-- + + OSWALD-- Thrown from the cliffs. + + A MAN-- The witches did it. + + ANOTHER--Blue devil-fire sputtered on the crags and sulphur-- + + ANOTHER--Two men were struck by the hags. + + ANOTHER-- The wine, too, Father, + They've poured it all out on the mountain rocks. + + ANOTHER--Old Hulga did it. + + SEVERAL-- And the dwarf. + + THE CROWD-- The dwarf, too. + + OSWALD-- (_With a nod toward the church._) + One of the men who rode in town for help + Is with the clerk. (_The Priest starts toward the church._) + + JARDIN--(_Stepping forward._) Can Jardin say a word? + One night at Acre when the camps were sick, + And smells of corpses tainted every breath, + Jardin was pacing watch. Through the darkness, + Pierced by the burial torches of the Turks, + A smoke-thin shadow passed across the plain + Between the armies, blotting one by one + The drifting death-fires of old Saladin. + Nearer it came, and Jardin heard a moan, + And walking toward it found a Turkish lad + Half eaten by hunger, in a fever trance + Low-moaning piteously: "Dates, mother, dates." + Did Jardin say, Because the Turk's a boy + I'll spare him? Did Jardin give him dates? No. + He'd made a vow never to spare no foe + Of Mary's Son, so, like a starving hound, + This Christian blade, drinking his little blood, + Licked up the crumbs that Famine's jaws had left. + Did Jardin right? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Our Paternoster says: + "Thy kingdom come." How could the kingdom come + If heathens were allowed to-- + + JARDIN-- If the young Turk, + Instead of wobbling in a fever trance + As weak as smoke a breath could blow away, + Jardin had found astride a Christian corpse + Holding his red dirk up against the moon + For Allah's eyes and laughing at the blood, + Had Jardin spared him then--? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Then the red dirk + Had hovered over your gray hairs like a hawk + Until your day of death, and when your soul, + Fresh from the holy lustral dews, had sprung + Singing toward Mary's bosom in the sky, + That red-plumed vulture swooping through the dark + Had chased it down to Hell. + + JARDIN-- Line up, men. + + OSWALD-- Stay! + You know not what you do. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What does this mean? + + JARDIN--It means that Jardin is a soldier still, + Still fighting as a servant of the Cross, + And never, while this arm can lift a sword, + Will this sword ever spare a scoffing imp + To invocate the devils of the air, + And pointing to the gouts of holy blood + Upon the mountain rocks, say: "Aha, see! + The Master's slave bleeds as the Master bled." + + (_Pointing with his sword down the street._) + + The son of Satan. + + A MAN-- It's the dwarf, Father. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Solemnly._) + God lifts the curtain and the Play is on, + Whose last act shall unfold above the clouds + With Tempest and with Earthquake that shall shake + Hell to the very bottom. Seize him. + + OSWALD--(_Excitedly._) No! + No, no! The boy has done no-- (_Coughing._) + + JARDIN-- Come on, men! + Shall bloody daggers drip on our gray hairs, + And chase us through the deep? Shall they? Come on! + + (_The line swings off._) + + Never will Jardin patch a truce with Hell + Until her towers, stormed by angels' wings, + Shall bow like Acre to the Son of God. + + OSWALD--Stop them, Father! Until I tell you! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Overcome with rage._) This, + This is the worst I ever did hear. (_Looking about him while_ + _Oswald coughs with great distress._) Men,-- + + (_Seeing that all the men have gone, he shouts + after them._) + + Pile your wood here, men! We shall have sacrifice! + + (_He goes toward the church._) + + OSWALD-- (_Frantically._) + Father! Father! (_He falls upon his knees._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--A burnt offering. (_Oswald rises quickly, + his face full of horror, and flees in the direction of the + Abbey, coughing violently._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_From the steps, calling after him bitterly._) + If Benedict, whose "joy is in the chase," + Shall "chase the deer with hounds as hunters do," + Perhaps this devil that goes up in smoke + Will drop somewhere upon the mountain paths + And pluck your haunches from the talbot's teeth. + Pray God he may, when Benedict turns hound. + + (_He enters the church and closes the door._) + + + _SCENE FIVE--The same street, projected to the outskirts of + the village. On the right, is a wagon bridge built of logs. + Some slabs, left over from the building of the bridge + years ago, lie in a pile at the roadside. Farther back, + across the river the course of which is marked by a line of + sycamores, the mountain rises abrupt and green, with here + and there patches of bare rocks and trees thickening as it + extends back and up. Away to the center and left, a stretch + of bottom land with cultivated fields. One gets a nearer + view of the snow-capped peaks seen from the mountain side + in the first Scene and from the courtyard of the abbey in + the second. In the foreground at the roadside, is a large + olive tree with its dark shadow lying directly beneath it, + for over the landscape is a clear light as of a noonday sun + shining from a cloudless sky._ + + _Under the tree, with several willow baskets strung together_ + _lying upon the ground beside him, sits the dwarf, Sigurd,_ + _polishing Oswald's silver crucifix upon his knee. He holds + it out in a bit of sunshine that falls through the leaves + and, after flashing the light about, resumes rubbing it + upon his trousers._ + + JARDIN-- (_Left, shouting as to men far off._) + Close in, men! Close in! + + (_The dwarf rises to his knees and looks in the + direction of the town. Then, hiding the + crucifix in his bosom, he comes out in the + road and looks in the opposite direction as + though trying to discover who it is they are + after. Stones strike in the road and go + clattering across the bridge. A moment later + Jardin and his men come rushing in._) + + ONE OF THE MEN--(_With his hands to his mouth, shouting_ + _across the river._) We've got him! + + ANOTHER-- Fellows! + + (_He makes for the pile of slabs. Several of the + men follow him._) + + ANOTHER--We can get shavings up at Bacqueur's shop. + + (_They load themselves with slabs. Jardin, who with + the dwarf is in the center of the crowd, + suddenly holds aloft the silver crucifix._) + + JARDIN--You know who threw him down now, don't you, eh? + + A CRY OF RAGE--Devil! + + JARDIN--Don't knock him, men. This is God's work. + + CRIES--Down with him! Burn him! + + JARDIN-- Fetch your slabs, men. + + CRIES-- Come on! (_They start toward the village._) + + SHOUTS-- (_From over the river._) + Look out! Look out! + + (_The men carrying slabs glance back, then throw + their loads down and go fleeing toward the + village._) + + CRIES-- Men! Men! + + (_The crowd flees, leaving Jardin holding the dwarf + by the collar standing in the road._) + + A VOICE--(_From across the bridge._) Let go that boy. + + JARDIN--This is a day of miracles. (_Canzler enters._) + Heathen, + Between us is a grave. (_He lays his hand upon his sword._) + + CANZLER-- Let go that boy. + + JARDIN-- (_Advancing to meet him._) + With Christ in one hand, and in the other this. + + (_Canzler draws his sword, and a duel ensues. The + Bailiff, protected by his armor which Canzler + has twice struck and failed to pierce, lays + his blows on as though he would end it all at + once. Canzler deliberately draws back into + the shade of the tree. Lunging madly, Jardin_ + _follows him. The villagers reappear with + stones in their hands, and try to get where + they will not hit Jardin when they throw._) + + CRIES--Run him through, Bailiff! Run him through! + + JARDIN--(_With a lunge._) There! + + A CRY-- Ha! + + (_Canzler has parried the thrust, and his sword has + passed through the chain hauberk deep into + the Bailiff's breast. The latter staggers + back, his astonishment that steel armor + should be pierced by mortal sword giving way_ + _to a look of chagrin, and after endeavoring to + steady himself with the blade of his sword, + falls flat, his armor clanking on the road. + The villagers drop their stones and flee + terror-stricken. Canzler stands for a moment,_ + _wipes the perspiration from his brow, then + reaches down and takes up the Bailiff's sword + by the point._) + + CANZLER-- + + (_Swinging it around his head and hurling it toward + the village._) + + You men in steel! + + (_He goes back under the tree and gets the baskets + and comes out into the road. The dwarf stoops + to pick up the crucifix that lies in the dirt + about a yard from the Bailiff's hand._) + + Canzler-- Nay, let it lie, my boy. + + (_He takes the boy by the hand and they return + across the bridge. The Bailiff stirs, lifts + himself to his elbow, and stretches his hand + toward the crucifix. He cannot reach it and + falls back and lies still._) + + + + +ACT FOUR. + + + _SCENE ONE--In the cavern, as in Scene two of the second act. + The spinning wheel stands against the wall and above it + from a peg hangs a heavy skein of black wool. The baskets + lie upon the floor. To the right of the low fire, a heap + of chips, pine cones, and broken limbs. The cave is quite + dark._ + + _From the left the gnomes enter stealthily, one after another._ + + _TIME--The same night._ + + KILO--(_Huskily._) Gone. + + ZIP--(_Calling back._) Gone. + + VOICE--(_To the left._) She's gone. + + (_Gimel enters and, after him, Suk. Kilo crosses + the cave and stands listening._) + + ZIP--(_Stopping._) What is it? + + (_Gimel puts out his hand, palm back, warningly. + Suk stops. Suddenly, to the left, a sound of + whistling is heard._) + + SUK-- (_Huskily, to silence him._) Zory! (_The whistling stops._) + + KILO-- (_Turning back._) + It's a frog booming on the river bank. + + GIMEL--The villagers should hear it they would squeal: + "Ave! Ave!" and hurry to the church + And take their pennies to the Priest. Curse them! + + (_While the rest snoop about the cave in search + of food, Kilo puts some kindling upon the + fire, and getting down upon his knees, blows + it into a flame. He then stretches himself + out upon the floor, and proping his head upon_ + _his elbow, begins to poke in the ashes with a + stick._) + + KILO--Gimel, you're mad because your monk's alive. + + (_Zip goes out right on tiptoe._) + + SUK--I wonder if Granny knows we killed the bat? + + GIMEL--I haven't had a bite since. + + SUK-- Yesterday + I found a cricket down among the stones + Still numb with winter's cold. + + GIMEL--(_Fearfully._) What is it, Zip? + + KILO-- (_Nonchalantly._) + Gimel, if the monk was sleeping there + On Granny's couch and you had Loki's sledge, + Think you could kill him? + + SUK-- Sh! + + (_Kilo sits up._) + + GIMEL-- Zip, what is it? + + ZIP-- (_Re-entering._) + It's going to storm. The clouds are scudding fast + And thick and dark, brushing the mountain tops. + + SUK--She gets the owl, she'll be here. + + (_Kilo lies down. The other gnomes, as if fearing + the entrance of the witch, walk, left._) + + SUK-- Better get up. + + ZIP--She'll flog you, Kilo, if she finds you there. + + KILO--I'll play I'm Sigurd. + + ZIP-- Then she'll drub you sure. + You see these baskets here? To-night at dusk + The boy crept tiptoe to the entrance there + And threw them in. I holloed at him: "Hey! + You'd better run! Granny's been looking for you." + + (_Kilo rakes a coal from the fire and blows the + ashes from it._) + + KILO--You say the wind's up, Zip? + + ZIP-- It's going to storm. + + SUK-- (_Looking among the dry herbs._) + There's not a leaf of Odin's helmet here. + + KILO--Gimel! (_He blows the coal._) + + GIMEL-- (_To Suk._) + She's taken it with her. She knew + If we should get out in the air-- + + KILO-- Come here. + + GIMEL--She'd never see us in this cave again. + + VOICE-- (_To the left, in a monotone._) + A rat and a cat and a cat and a mouse. + + SUK--I wonder when she's going to make us broth. + + GIMEL--She said we'd be as thin as chestnut leaves + Before she put the cauldron on again. + + SUK--How can we toil when fire won't burn, + When Loki's hammers are soft as lead, + When her charms all fail wherever we turn, + When blight won't gather and murrain won't spread? + How can we toil when there's not a Nix + But turns to stone at a crucifix? + + (_From the left, Zory enters._) + + ZIP--What are you chewing, Zory? + + ZORY-- Slippery elm. + + GIMEL--She's scared herself at the pesky thing. + Often as here by the coals she's sat + Crunching her pignuts and stroking her cat, + Many a time I've heard her say + That Thor's arm shriveled that April day + When out of a cloud in a thunder shower + He threw his bolt at the tall gray tower. + It shivered a poplar tree near by. + The church stood sound with its cursed crest, + While the god went bellowing down the sky, + Clutching his shoulder in terrible pain. + Now he rides to the east and he rides to the west--So + Granny says--and he's never seen + Lashing his goats through the driving rain. + Dark and fireless the clouds drift round; + Their waters fall without any sound. + It's Hoder that drives them now, I ween. + + ZORY-- (_Leaving the herbs._) + She'd left a slip of the Devil's herb, + + (_Skipping to the right._) + + You'd see me sweeping along the sky; + I'd straddle the moon and ride her down. + + ZIP--Be quiet, Zory.--You'd better not. You hear? + + (_Zory goes out._) + + SUK--The fairies too are bolder now. + Every hour you can hear them call + From forest and bracken and water-fall. + Even at midday, when I've been clearing + Ore from the mountains and stood a peering + Through cracks in the cliff, I have seen them at play + Catching the drops of silvery spray, + Running with emeralds and amethysts + To the stones where the purple iris rests. + With hands to their mouths, from the mossy ledge, + They boom to the bittern far down in the sedge + On the river bank. They are in the air. + Woodland and water--everywhere. + + GIMEL--And there's not a place even down in the ground, + No matter how dark, but that elves are found + Whispering and prying, their little eyes + Darting and glancing like fireflies. + + SUK--They say that's the cause of Loki's fright. + + ZIP--And well it might be, if this tale is true. + Sleeping he lay on the ground one night-- + He had guzzled his fill of Granny's brew-- + When, thinking he heard his bellows blow, + He opened his eyes and spied the glow + Of flames on his forge, the sparks a leaping, + And a score of elves---they thought him sleeping-- + On trough and anvil and on the ground + Clapping their hands as they fell around. + Then he stirred, when lo! there was not a spark; + The bellows was still, the stithy was dark. + + KILO-- (_Rising quickly to a sitting posture._) + The tale is as true as the master's steel. + Here on the stones I lay that night, + Curled like a cat in the fire-light, + While there by the wall with a whirring sound + Granny's old spinning wheel went round. + It whirred and it whirred so I could not sleep, + So I lay and yawned and began to peep + And nudge the fire, for the night was cool. + Around the big wheel the wether's wool + Ran black, the dame's foot under her skirt + Paddling the pedal for Sigurd's shirt. + The wheel stopped a moment, and during the hush + I had dropped to a doze, when there came a rush + Of the coldest air that ever warped skin, + And Loki, frightened, dashed up and in + From the rift in the rocks. (_He rises to one knee._) + His face was white + And the smut upon it showed black as night + And his limbs were so weak that he almost fell. + When he got his breath he began to tell + How, roused from his sleep by a noise in his shop-- + Then Granny spied me and nudged him to stop, + And the two went out. I leaped to the ledge + And peered through the crack. Far up on the edge + Of the cliff where the hazel bushes grow, + The pines were glossing; the gnomes, I trow, + Were choking the caves to get in the ground + And hide in the dark lest they should be found + When Balder should roll his bright wheel on high. + Already his lances waved in the sky + Bedabbled with blood. The heavens were pale + And the peaks were bright with his burning mail. + I lost not a trice. As quick as a wink + I rushed to the roots and out through the chink + With the Devil's herb I followed the pair. + Darting invisible through the air, + I squatted toad-like on the turf and heard + Them babble their plans, heard every word, + Heard Granny wheeze and the master say--As + they rose from the rock and turned away--"We + must nag on the gnomes or the cross will rise. + They must take the monk's life or put out his--" + + ZORY--(_Rushing in._) Look out! + + (_He dashes out, left, followed by the other + gnomes. From the right, the witch enters. In + her right hand she holds a big black owl by + the wing; in her left, a large club. She is + tall, raw-boned, and weasened. Her hair is of + a stringy gray, and a skein of it hangs upon + her cheek. Her breath comes short, and there + is a wheeze in her voice._) + + WITCH--What's this? Burning my wood? (_Shouting._) + Sigurd! Ay, ay! + You'd better hide, you lazy, crooked dwarf. + You'll pay for this. + + (_She throws the owl down, and taking the sticks + from the fire, beats the flames out upon the + floor._) + + You'll pay for this, I say. + You'll gladly sleep upon the coldest stones, + But you'll not close an eye. You'll moan all night, + Dragging your red-puffed soles across the floor, + And beg the gnomes for snow. I'll teach you how + To burn my kindling up. Here I must trudge + Up to the blasted cliffs day after day, + Strip bark, drag brush, break limbs, and gather cones + Among the pines, the bait of all the winds, + And barely get enough to heat my brew, + And here you'll lie roasting your wretched bones. + I'll warm your cursed shanks. I'll put your feet + To blister on the red-hot coals again + And flog you limping up the rocks for wood. + + (_Hanging up the baskets._) + + Let the monks take the geese. They're out there now + Flapping their wings and gaggling at the moon + To call the Christians down. You'll keep their necks! + You'll swear by father Thor you fetched them up + And penned them in the lot. I'll beat you, though; + I'll whale you with these rods until you're sore. + + (_She piles her wood against the wall._) + + Let the monks steal the geese. You'll gather wood. + You'll find it scarce, I vow. There's not a day + You're by the stream. You're up among the crags, + Beating the eagles from the new-dropped kids. + You feed the woodman's ewes. You hunt the hills + For sorrel-grass to see the lambkins eat. + You never drain an udder for my sop, + Or bring me honey from the gum. Sneezeweed + You never dig or nightshade from the marsh. + You play among the logs. My nuts and corn + You steal to feed the striped chipmunks with. + All day you're in the wood or on the slope, + Listening to hear the noisy Christian bells. + You love the damned sound. You love the monks. + You fetch them pine knots from the big green ridge + To singe the gnomes and light their altar fires. + You've learned to fumble buckeyes on your breast. + I'll teach you how to pray. Ay, ay! You hear? + I'll weave my dwarf a cowl. Ha, ha! You hear? + Sigurd! I'll get you in the morning. + + (_A rumble of thunder._) + + Eh? + + (_Thunder again._) + + Ay, ay, Thor! I'll have them there! + + (_Shouting._) + + Gnomes! Gnomes! + Zip! Gimel! Kilo! Lazy broth-suckers! + Here's work for you, you knaves! + Work and broth! + (_Louder._) Broth, I said! You hear? + Zory, you scamp! + + (_Feeling about her dress._) + + Hear what I say? + Kilo! Suk! Gimel! Here's broth for you! + + (_In an underbreath._) + + If you'll work. + You don't, I'll lamn you, you toads. + + (_Shouting._) + + You hear? + Ay, peak about! peak about! + Thor wants you. + + (_The gnomes enter timidly, half-afraid._) + + SUK-- (_Whimpering._) + I'm hungry. + + WITCH--Hungry! + Out in the air with you, then! + Suck the lightning's dugs! Guzzle in the rain! + + (_Low muttering thunder._) + + Hear that? Can you? Can you bark? + Ay, ay, Thor! + + (_As the thunder dies away, the gnomes rush wildly + toward the witch._) + + Ay, here's your herb! + Out with you now, every last one of you! + + ZIP-- (_Giving him a leaf._) + Up with you! (_Zip disappears._) + Kilo! There you go! + + (_Kilo disappears._) + + Now Suk! Now Gimel! Now you can get him! + + (_The gnomes, taking the slips, disappear._) + + Ay, ay! Chase the monk! Crack the big bells! + Pluck up the pines and knock the steeples down! + + ZORY-- (_Rushing in._) + Me too, Granny! + + WITCH--Ay, you scamp! (_Giving him a leaf._) + Bark now! + Skedaddle in the air! + + ZORY--I'll straddle the moon and-- + + (_He disappears._) + + WITCH-- There you go! + Ay, straddle her! Ride her through the clouds! + There they are, Thor. + Now for my dwarf. (_Picking up her club._) + I'll bruise him a little. (_Shouting._) + Sigurd! + I'll get you. (_She goes out, left._) + + + _SCENE TWO--The scriptorium in the dormitory of the abbey._ + _The walls are of stone. In the left wall, near the_ + _corner, a door opens into a hall that leads thence to the_ + _courtyard. Near it, forward, an enormous chest with metal + trimmings and handles of embossed stags' heads, the antlers + gradually disappearing into the panel. Upon the chest, as + though thrown there carelessly, lies a heavy cloak. About + ten feet from the door, against the rear wall, stands a + small priedieu covered with a rich altar-cloth interwoven + with the figure--seen in old arras--of St. Giles sitting + upon a rock with the deer resting its head in his lap. + Behind the deer is a clump of brambles. The kneeling piece, + which projects from under the folds of the altar-cloth, + is of dark wood highly polished. Upon it is a scarlet + cushion. A little above the priedieu, in a semicircular + niche in the wall, is set a bronze crucifix some ten inches + in height. Before it burns a small taper. Farther to the + right, a second door leading into a corridor which connects + with the sleeping apartments. Between this door and the + priedieu are shelves filled with books and old manuscripts. + Beyond the door, which swings in and is partly open, an + old buckler hangs upon the wall, and beneath it, upon two + iron spikes, a long spear. Between the spear and buckler + is fixed a parchment cut mitriform and bearing in large + illumined letters the inscriptions_ HUGH DE BUILLON CUM DEO + ET CUM GODEFRIDO NICAEIS ANTIOCHIIS HIEROSOLYMIS MIL NONAG + SEPT OCT NOV. _Farther to the right, in the corner, a + Saracen coat-of-mail filled with spears which, converging + center and spread out above and below, look like a sheaf + of steel. Across the breast of the coat-of-mail is a strip + of parchment with the inscription illumined as before_: A + MOHAMED FILIO SATAN CHRISTO FILIO DEI. _In the right wall are + apertures of two deep-set windows, near which are three + carrels, each with an old manuscript spread out upon it + and ink-pots and other copying and illuminating materials. + Hanging beside them are finger rags smeared with various + colored stains. On one of the carrels lies a sprig of + flowering mountain laurel. Near the center of the room, a + few feet to the right, stands a long table running parallel + with the side walls. It is overstrewn with old manuscripts, + some of them discolored and half unrolled; others, near + the forward end, piled in the form of a miniature pyramid. + Farther back, a small brass lamp, pitcher-shaped and with a + wick protruding from its spout, burns with a yellow flame. + The room is but dimly lighted, as a large room would be, + with a single lamp burning upon the table and a little + taper winking in the niche in the wall._ + + _To the right of the table, in a square, high-backed chair + with animal-feet, sits the Abbot in a black gown, + bareheaded. His feet, which are under the table, are cased + in slippers of sheep-skin with the white fleece still upon + it. From his right hand, which hangs beside his chair, a + scroll of parchment trails upon the floor. Farther back, + upon the opposite side of the table, stands the Priest, his + left hand resting upon the back of a chair the front legs + of which are raised a few inches from the floor. At the + further end of the table Oswald is standing with his finger + wiping away the tears that trinkle down his cheeks._ + + _Thunder is heard intermittently, and from time to time the_ + _windows are shaken by the violence of the wind._ + + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_White with wrath, turning to the Abbot._) + Endorse this, Father? + + OSWALD-- Father, I did not say it. + + ABBOT--_Ira_, Benedict, _altis urbibus_ + _Causa cur perirent_. Let him explain. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I say, do you endorse this? + + OSWALD-- I did not say it. + + ABBOT--I endorse nothing till I hear both sides. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I gave you both sides. + + ABBOT-- Sit down, Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT--You think I'd sit down with these things + spread here, (_With a wave toward the manuscripts._) + And Christ thrust yonder in the little niche? + Not while I have in mind the first Psalm. + + ABBOT-- Yet + You seem to have forgotten what #agapaô# means, + As found in that third chapter of St. John. + + (_He lays his parchment upon the table and reaches + over and takes a book from the pile at his + right._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Not while I have in mind the first Psalm. + + ABBOT-- (_Turning over the leaves of the book._) + If + You thought more of the Gospels-- + + FATHER BENEDICT---(_Sarcastically._) As heathens do. + + ABBOT--What is it to be a heathen? Is it not + To act unchristlike? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What is it to be a dog? + + OSWALD--I did not say that Father was a-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What! + Just now you did confess-- + + OSWALD-- I said you spoke-- + _Spoke_ as hunters-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--_That's a lie!_ + + ABBOT-- Benedict! + Be circumspect, lest in your anger you + Bay at him and turn that which you do scorn. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I scorn the imputation which his pride + Popped at me. As though all the saints in heaven + Bowed down to him because the other night-- + + (_Turning away._) + + Oh, but God hates the proud man! + + ABBOT-- And, therefore, + Wisdom doth bid you keep an open ear + And leave the scroll of judgment still unsealed. + For how shall Mercy find the iron leaf? + Will Heaven's book be open if we close + Ours? When men cry to us, if we shut our ears, + We shut out Heaven's whispers. Oh, nothing--Of + all the deeds men do that vex the sky--Nothing + so rankles in the heart of God + As to see lips, fresh come from prayer for grace, + Refusing justice. + + (_The Priest has walked forward at an angle from + the table and stands with his back to the + Abbot. Reaching under his gown, he draws a + dark string across his breast and begins, + seemingly, to untie a knot. The Abbot regards_ + _him in silence._) + + Will you hear him? + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Gruffly._) Go on. + + ABBOT--No, Benedict; do it dispassionately. + You say God hates the proud. So he does. Yet + Wrath is more perilous to a man than pride. + For while pride turns a man's face to the sky, + 'Tis wrath that shoves him where the thunders fall. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Under his breath._) + I'll drop some thunder on you. + + ABBOT-- Now, my son, + Speak as though angels heard you. 'Tis almost + Midnight, and the Sabbath draweth nigh. + + OSWALD-- (_To the Priest._) + Father. + + ABBOT--Do you hear?--He shuts his ears. Proceed. + Remembering that truth is God's own bread. + He hungers for it. + + OSWALD-- Oh, I have not lied! + I did not say that Father was a dog. + + ABBOT--I know you have not, Oswald. The three years + That you have been here never have been stained + With pride and falsehood. Those that now malign, + God knows where they shall go when the end comes. + + OSWALD--I will explain just how it came about. + Then, if you think I have done Father wrong, + Tell me and let me do penance for it. I-- + I will not be here long. + + ABBOT-- My son! + + OSWALD-- I feel + The darkness gathering round me. + + ABBOT-- Don't say that. + You will be well again. You will be strong + Some day, my son, and many years shall pass + Ere the Lord calls you. Hath he not given proof? + A shepherd to you, surely God hath been. + Three nights ago at this time, where were you? + Lying down in the gorge, and the night wind + Passed and you knew it not. But God watched there, + And sent his servant--for all things serve Him--And + here you are safe in the fold again. + That deed unclasped a volume of bright days. + God doth not put his hand forth and lift up + As he hath lifted you, and then cast down + Ere the knees be straightened. Your tears should fall + For joy, my son, not sorrow. Think how near + Your foot was to the gates of darkness when + God turned your face around and there flashed out + A jeweled finger pointing toward a dawn--Far + off it may be or it may be near--When + the last shred of darkness shall vanish. + Let those that hound you, fear, for God shall cleave + A chasm in the earth for them; but you--No, + no, my son, not darkness, light. God's light + And glory from the new Jerusalem + Will shine upon you on the mountain tops, + If dreams are tapers lighting what is to be, + As some believe they are. + + (_The Priest reaches under his gown and takes + something in his right hand, and with the + other draws the string from around his neck + and drops it into his right hand, after which + he pulls the sleeve down over it till only the_ + _knuckles are visible._) + + Therefore, my son, + Lift up your face and let white words go forth + And usher in the Sabbath. Truth in the heart + Is fire under water, but on the lips + It lighteth every man the Way of Life. + + (_The Priest goes toward the chest near the door._) + + Benedict, will you do as Pilate did? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Is he the Lord? + + ABBOT-- He is-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Then who are you? + + ABBOT--He is a child of our Lord's. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- So am I. + + ABBOT--So you are, Benedict, a full grown child. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Even if I don't pray here + + (_With a disdainful motion toward the priedieu._) + + ABBOT-- A full grown child; + Large enough, one would think, to have slain the wolf + Of hate in you. + + (_The Priest takes up the cloak from the chest and + begins to put it on._) + + Is it the truth you fear? (_A pause._) + You dare to go out under the open sky + With hatred in your heart, a night like this? (_A pause._) + If you go now I know the reason why. + You fear to lay your heart down here and let + The light shine on it with Oswald's, side by side. + + OSWALD-- (_To the Abbot._) + Father-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Over his shoulder._) + Call a dog Father? + + ABBOT-- Benedict, + Exasperating beyond word in this + Conduct of yours. You come up here as one + Whose honor has been wounded, and you throw + Your charge down and when Oswald takes it up + To answer it, you will not hear him, but + You slink away. A travesty on man + Is he who has but one ear, and that filled + With his own voice. (_Rising._) + But I will settle this. + + (_Lifting his hand._) + + My son, I now absolve you from all-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Turning quickly._) + Hold! + + (_He pulls his cloak around so as to hide his right + hand, then comes forward._) + + Your haste to wash his heart is evidence-- + + ABBOT--You tacitly admit your charge is false + By the eagerness-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--What are you talking of? + + ABBOT--Your eagerness to get out in the dark. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Who said that I was going? + + (_To Oswald._) + + Now then, you + Lay your heart down under the lamplight here, + And I will show a hunch-backed devil in it. + + ABBOT--Tell us, my son, just how it came about. + Let truth spring out upon the table armed. + + (_He resumes his seat._) + + OSWALD--When Father spoke this morning of a chase, + A stag pursued by hounds and things like that, + I simply said that-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--"_Simply_ said!" + + OSWALD-- I said-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--I was one of the hounds, the talbot hound + That led the pack. + + OSWALD-- Why, Father! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Advancing toward him._) + You say that + A second time, and by the-- + + ABBOT-- Benedict! + Sprinkled with eyes, a wheel of God's own car + Attends our brother. You would best beware. + You know God hath him circled round about + With that that shall uproot the steadfast hills. + + (_Through the door, rear. Louis enters, carrying + a flagon and a silver cup, his face showing + terror. Seeing the Priest, he stops suddenly + as though amazed, then enters slowly._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--I care not were he nine times circled + round, + As Hell is, I would-- + + ABBOT-- (_Lifting his hand._) + Let me finish. Then, + If with eyes open you will venture on, + Do it. The night is wild. Heaven hath shaken down + Many a pine upon the mountain tops, + And steeples too, no doubt, and towns, who knows? + No man can tell what dawn shall look on. Even + This house of God--Hark how the thunders break! + The winds are playing havoc with the world + And Order frightened hath plunged into the sea. + + LOUIS--The southern gable has been blown down. + + ABBOT--(_After a look of surprise._) And + Thrice in the mossed chapel tower the bell + Hath rung, and no hand touched it; as it were + A tocsin to alarm the world that Hell + Hath landed. Though the seas be blown away + And the everlasting hills be tumbled down, + In summer calmness still the soul of man + Stands like a fortress, sure against assault + And terrible as a gorgon's head to Hell, + And adamant to all her engines. But + Let wrath break out inside, and crash! the gates + Are down. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Tapping himself upon his breast._) + And Hell comes in. + + ABBOT-- And Hell goes in + And ravins there. + + FATHER BENEDICT--In me. + + ABBOT-- The lightning hath + No power to strike a tree while the blue sky + Bends over it. But let the wrath of Hell + Build up a cloud and fire it, and the tree + Falls shattered. But God calls the cloud away + And His winds blow it into nothingness. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The tree is--? + + ABBOT-- Oswald there. He stands secure. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And the cloud--? + + ABBOT-- You. You blacken over him + And, charged with passion, make an atmosphere + Of sulphur and in it, as in native air, + Hell slips her flame and the trunk tumbles down + To darkness. But God calls the cloud away + To judgment, and its shadow is seen no more. + If you will venture further in your wrath, + Do it, for I have done. (_A pause._) Very well, then. + You may resume, my-- + + OSWALD-- I will undergo + Whatever ordeal Father may suggest; + Will walk hot irons or put my hand in fire + Or anything. + + ABBOT-- You hear that, Benedict? + + FATHER BENEDICT--He knows the Pope has banned the ordeal. + + (_To Oswald with scorn._) + + Brave! + + OSWALD--I call the saints-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_To Louis._) + Do I look like a hound? + + OSWALD--I said you _spoke_ as those that hunt-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- By that + Meaning that I should tarre them on him. + + OSWALD--(_With a puzzled look._) On + Me? + + ABBOT--How did you come to say it, Oswald? + + OSWALD--I grew up, Father, in a forest where + Men used to hunt, and I have often sat + In winter round their fires and heard them tell + Tales of the chase. And so when Father spoke + Of a chase my mind went back-- + + ABBOT-- Did you say this + After he told you of the hunter's dream? + + OSWALD--Dream? + + FATHER BENEDICT--_I_ told? I did not tell him. + + (_Instantly the Abbot frowns silence at the + Priest._) + + Speak out. + + ABBOT--_Non somnium venatoris._-- + + OSWALD-- What dream? + + PRIEST-- (_Contemptuously._) + As if he did not know it! + + ABBOT-- (_Agitated._) + _Ne--ne dic!_ + _Non scit somnium._ + + PRIEST-- (_Opening wide his eyes._) + That's the trick, then! + I'm to believe that, am I? + + OSWALD-- Father, what--? + + FATHER BENEDICT--I'll tell you what. The hunter-- + + ABBOT-- Benedict! + + FATHER BENEDICT--If he don't know the dream, I'll tell him. + Macias saw a pack of-- + + ABBOT--(_Striking the table._) Will you stop? + _Eum ad insaniam adiges._ + + FATHER BENEDICT--Let it drive him mad. + + (_As though provoked beyond expression, the Abbot + passes his hand across his brow and casts a + scornful glance toward the Priest._) + + ABBOT-- Oswald, you go back + Into your cloister. + + OSWALD-- Drive who mad, Father? + + FATHER BENEDICT--You. The hunter saw the furious + hounds of Hell + Chasing you up a mountain, while a storm-- + + ABBOT--Benedict, God's curse-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- On his enemies? + + ABBOT-- On-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Stretching out his right arm._) + On those that aid them? + + ABBOT-- Yes, and on-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Him, then. + + (_From his right hand he drops the silver crucifix + and, with the forefinger of his left, points + at Oswald. The latter starts, shrinking in + terror from the curse. The Abbot and Louis, + dumbfounded, stare wide-eyed at the crucifix_ + _which dangles from its cord about the Priest's + finger. The latter, after regarding with an + expression of triumph the astonishment of the + Abbot, lets the crucifix fall to the table + and, reaching across to the other side, pulls + the flagon over to himself and proceeds to + pour out a cup of wine._) + + You're a smart set. You've wormed your way around + To let him out of calling me a dog; + Now let him out of that. You've made it seem-- + + (_He sips the wine._) + + ABBOT--Where did you find it? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- To yourselves, no doubt, + That he was ignorant of the dream when he + Insinuated that I led the pack + That chased him. + + (_After a sip of wine._) + + Or would lead it. + + ABBOT-- Where did you + Find it? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Where do you suppose? + + LOUIS-- In the brook? + + FATHER BENEDICT--A cauldron of hell-broth would be + nearer it. And you? (_The Abbot shakes his head._) + On his best-beloved. + + LOUIS-- On Pierre? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- On the dwarf. (_He drinks._) + Wages for his services, I suppose. + + (_While the Priest drains the cup, the Abbot nods + to Louis, who steps quickly toward Oswald as + if to hurry him out._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Hold up! You let him stay. + + OSWALD--(_Excitedly._) You had no right-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Lifting his hand._) + It's my turn to explain. (_He begins to fill the cup._) + + ABBOT-- Oswald, retire. + + OSWALD--I want to clear myself. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _Clear!_ Let him stay. + + (_Cup in hand, to the Abbot._) + + After your pretty speech this morning I, + Reaching the village, found your monk, here, and + Jardin at swords' points. Some one had espied + The dwarf, it seems, in town. And the people, + Remembering what he did the other night, + Shouted, and the Bailiff's voice rang loud + For vengeance. + + OSWALD-- But 'twas the boy-- + + LOUIS-- You be still. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Jardin proposed that they should burn him. He + Opposed it, fought it, he did. Just then I + Rode in. Jardin appealed to me, and I + Urged them to seize the devil. Then it was + This upstart here let loose his venomous, + Vile, hell-suggested intimation that + I had turned hound. + + OSWALD-- I did not-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Not a word. + The upshot of it all was--Ah, but God + Will pour his wrath out on your head for this! + In view of what then happened, I now call + This night, this midnight hour, and wake up God + To witness that these mountains shall be cleared + Of heathen; that the dews of heaven shall fall + Baptizing bodies of the unbaptized + Stiff among the wild-flowers. For this young week, + That in this storm hath stepped upon the world, + Shall see a storm more terrible than this + On mountain tops uprooting human trees + And choking Death and Hell and Darkness. + Or let the infant Sabbath, born this hour, + Put not a foot on earth, but like a bird + Wander upon the winds, and in the dark + Grope for the morning star and find it not. + Let the gates of the morning be shut and let no bell + Wake up the world, unless it wake to see + Death ravining on the mountains and white Faith + Painting her banners there in heathen blood. + But Mercy shall be shut up in the caves, + For this accursed deed shall be tracked down, + And Vengeance ranging like a wild beast--Thou, + Above these maddening winds that wreck this world, + Hear me, _hear me_, HEAR ME. Thou in heaven! + + (_Out of breath._) + + And you--and you who caused all this, may God-- + + ABBOT--Benedict! + + FATHER BENEDICT--But let God have his-- + + (_He swallows the wine._) His will. + And he will have it, mark you that, young man. + + (_To the Abbot._) + + Strange are the ways God hath of rousing up + The slothful to a work he long since laid + Upon the world and the world shirked it. But + It shall be done now, _it shall be done now_. + If for three years the heathen on the heights + Have served their idols, in less than three days + Their idols and themselves shall be in Hell. + Lead the chase yonder, Father, lead it there! + Beneath _them_ shake the mountains. Let this hand + Strike for Thee there, and serve Thee, striking them, + That this accursed deed may smell no more, + A putrid carcass rotting under heaven. + This is how God hath roused us up at last. + + (_He drains the cup and sets it down._) + + My people armed with vengeance had swung down + And reached the bridge, and Jardin, valiant man, + Soldier of God, Knight Templar of the Cross, + Who in the heathen land fought for ten years + To stamp out Satan, even in his old age + A furnace burning with the breath of God + And firing those about him to the work + Of ridding these mountains of the heathen, he--May + God reward him for it in the world + Without end, Amen--he had grabbed the dwarf + To drag him off and burn him-- + + OSWALD-- It was wrong-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--His blood is on your hands. + + OSWALD--(_Frantically._) You murdered him! + You had no cause to kill him. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _I!_. Hear that. + + OSWALD--The boy had done no harm. The night I fell + 'Twas he who-- + + LOUIS--(_Seizing him._) Will you hush? + + ABBOT--(_White with fear._) Oswald, retire. + Your fever--you're excited. (_Rising._) Benedict, + Don't press this matter further--now. + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Bewildered._) The _boy_! + + ABBOT--Louis, take him-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- No cause to kill the _boy_! + + OSWALD--He-- + + LOUIS-- Father has forbidden it. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Um-hm! + I think I see--I think--I think I see. + + ABBOT--What? + + FATHER BENEDICT--So he told you it was the dwarf, eh? + + LOUIS-- + + (_All the while shoving Oswald toward the rear_ + _door._) + + Just his imagination Father. I-- + I was the one who found him at the gate. + He knew no more about it than a stone. + 'Twas night; the stars were shooting in the-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- When? + + LOUIS--When he was brought up. Why he-- + + ABBOT--(_Quickly._) Louis! + (_Searching the Priest's face._) You asked + If he told us--? + + FATHER BENEDICT--It was the dwarf was killed. + + ABBOT--He told us that you had burned him. + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Fiercely to Oswald._) God shall burn + You, griffon, son of Tophet, damned thing! + + (_Terrified at the dark in the corridor and with + a wild expression upon his face, Oswald + clutches hysterically at the door jambs._) + + OSWALD--No, no, no, no! (_Piteously, as he is shoved along_ + _through the hall._) Father, Father! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Call Hell! + I pray to God-- + + ABBOT-- Breathe no curse, Benedict. + I will inquire into this affair. + If he hath done aught culpable-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _If! If!_ + + ABBOT--If he hath spoken unbecomingly-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--Is Jardin's life then nothing? I suppose + Not, to you. (_He turns and goes toward the door, left._) + + ABBOT-- What? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I suppose not, to you. + + ABBOT--You mean to say-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Go your way; I go mine. + + ABBOT--To say the dwarf killed-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You have espoused the cause + of the guilty. + + ABBOT-- Of the guilty? _I_ espoused? + + (_Following with the light_.) + + Don't tell me Oswald had a hand in this. + Benedict, this is pure malignity. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And no mouth in it, either, I suppose. + + ABBOT--You mean he instigated this attack? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + + (_At the door, buckling his cloak about him_.) + + Go your way; I go mine. + + ABBOT-- I don't believe it. + I don't believe it. It smacks too like the charge + That he called you a dog. If you can prove + That any word of his caused Jardin's death, + I will attend to him. + + FATHER BENEDICT--By cursing me. + + ABBOT--You know why I-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You needn't apologize. + + ABBOT--You, Benedict, not I, are needing grace. + You have assailed a child of God, and you + Know what our Lord said: "'Twere better a mill-stone + Were hanged about his neck and he were flung + Into the sea, than offend one of these." + You even seemed to take delight, to relish + Harrowing his soul up with the hunter's dream + And breaching it for horror to peep through. + + FATHER BENEDICT--You wait. + + (_He reaches down behind the chest_.) + + ABBOT-- God will hold you responsible + If anything should happen to him. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You + Take care he does not visit you. + + ABBOT-- Just now + You said yourself that it was you who urged + Jardin to seize the dwarf. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- And so I did. + + ABBOT--Whose fault is it if the dwarf killed him, then? + + FATHER BENEDICT--We will let God decide whose fault-- + Move this. + + ABBOT-- (_Setting the lamp down upon the floor._) + You even said Oswald opposed it, and + For that just now you blamed him. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You think you + Understand everything. You _think_ you do. + + (_They pull the chest from the wall._) + + ABBOT--Then tell me. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Reaching down and getting his staff._) + The dwarf did not kill him. + + ABBOT-- How? + Is he not dead? + + FATHER BENEDICT--By this time, he may be. + + ABBOT--I still don't see where Oswald's fault comes in. + + (_He takes up the lamp._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--We will let God decide whose fault it is. + + (_He goes out._) + + ABBOT--How did it happen? + + FATHER BENEDICT--God was there; ask him. + + (_Louis reappears._) + + ABBOT--Stay, Benedict, tell me explicitly-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + This is the last time you will see me here. + + ABBOT--Eh? (_Holding the light above his head._) + What do you propose to do? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You wait. + + ABBOT--I fear for you, unless you quench your wrath. + + (_A moment later, he turns back._) + + LOUIS--Again safe. + + ABBOT-- Barely. + + LOUIS-- What was that he said? + The last time he would come here? + + ABBOT-- I hope so. (_Thunder._) + + LOUIS--And don't let Oswald-- + + ABBOT-- Close tight the shutters. + + LOUIS--And don't let Oswald go down there again. + We would be risking all that we have gained. + The brothers, begging in the town to-day, + Brought in four hundred franks, a silver cup, + Three rings, a pair of bracelets, and a pearl + Big as a pea. + + ABBOT-- A very good day's work. + + LOUIS--If this keeps up, the chest won't hold it all. + + ABBOT-- (_Suddenly, glancing about upon the table._) + Benedict--did he take--the crucifix? + + LOUIS-- (_At the window._) + Oswald took it.--Do you think Benedict + Found it where he said he-- + + ABBOT--(_Aghast._) Oswald! + + LOUIS-- Why? + + ABBOT--The hunter saw it blood-stained in his dream. + + (_A gust of wind blows out the light in his hand._) + + LOUIS--Perhaps it got blood on it when he fell. + Benedict may have washed it off. I thought + It might help quiet him. Shall I get it? + + ABBOT-- No; + You may be right. + + LOUIS-- Still, if you think-- + + ABBOT-- You fetch-- + I'll take the lamp and cup; you fetch the wine. + I will have Pierre watch with him to-night. + + (_Louis turns back to the window. The Abbot + relights his lamp at the little taper in the + wall and then goes left._) + + LOUIS--By the way, Father, old Andrew has gone mad. + The storm has blown his mind's last spark out. Yes; + He tried to take the bracelets from Luigi + And would have dragged the chest out. + + ABBOT-- And did he? + + LOUIS-- No; + But it was all that four of us could do + To hold him. He is on the seas again, + And peers abroad and swears he sees great ships-- + + (_Out in the storm is heard the booming of a bell. + They listen. Louis crosses himself and + mutters._) + + _Sed libera nos a malo._ Father-- (_The Abbot lifts his hand._) + What + Do you think it means? (_A pause._) + + ABBOT-- Come to my room. + + (_To himself, as he goes left._) If + The etherial gods, as the wise poet says, + Dwell afar off and in the affairs of men + Interfere not, our domes shall rise yet. + (_Turning._) Louis, + Bring the scroll. + + LOUIS-- Which? + + ABBOT-- Lucretius. On the floor. + + (_In the doorway he stops and listens as for the + bell. As he goes out._) If. + + (_Louis takes up the parchment which lies upon the_ + _floor near the Abbot's chair and, going to the + rear door, shuts it and slides the bolt. He + then blows out the taper in the wall._) + + LOUIS-- (_Listening._) + The witches have their way in heaven to-night. + + (_He comes to the table and, taking up the flagon, + goes out, left._) + + + _SCENE THREE--The court yard of the abbey, as in Scene Three + of the Second Act. A storm is heard roaring through the + mountains, with an occasional rumble of thunder and in the + darkness sudden luster as of lightning far off. In these + flashes, the scene gleams wet as after a hard rain._ + + _From the right, comes a faint sound as of a stick tapping on_ + _stone, and soon along the side of the dormitory old Andrew_ + _appears, carrying a staff with which he is feeling his way + through the darkness._ + + ANDREW--Here a black squall, sou'-wester, south-south-west. + Star--star gone! Where's the pole? + (_Shouting._) Furl the main, lads! + On she spins, whirling past world on world. Hip! + Feel her--feel her heave! (_Shouting._) Take in the mizzen! + A thousand thousand fathoms down, the moon + Shines like a fish. (_He peers around the corner._) + Black as--Hear the masts crack. + Watch Alvinach! Watch for the ninth wave, lads! + + (_Lightning._) + + Put out that broom! You'll have the witches here. + Mother, they've burnt the baby!--Hya! Lie down. + + (_He walks out in the court._) + + Here's a night, God bless us! Here's a gale + To make the sea-girls sing. Scylla! Carribee! + Shake your dead bones! Shake 'em and sing! Blow, then. + Growl, Scylla! Growl, ocean-bitch, bark and growl! + Now, Carribee, whirl! Shake the big gulf and slush! + Gulp down the worlds with stars and moons and moons! + + (_Lightning._) + + Yip, there they go! Suck 'em down! suck 'em down! + Arcturus down! Down Cancer! down the Scales! + Whirled into the pit! Weigh the devils, Scales! + Weigh the big Serpent! Weigh Beelzebub! + Hands ahelm! Ahull, boys! Lash her to the lea! + Lash her to the lea! Splinters! Watch out, lads! + Saint Telme! Saint Telme! Hold the gunnel there! + + (_The bell sounds in the chapel tower._) + + Who's dead? Who's dead, i' the Devil's name? + Fetch me those rings. Now throw him overboard. + Scrub these stains, Luigi. Keep the dog back there. + This gold will glitter on the Judgment Day. + I hear you whispering, scoundrels!--Hya! Lie down. + + (_He walks back, singing._) + + _There's wind up in her pitch-black flag;_ + _There's foam around her keel._ + + Now we're scudding. Right through the Dipper-- + + (_Lightning._) Ahoy! + + Elmo! Elmo! Light up! light up, man! + Argo's to the larboard! Signal her! Ahoy! + Ship ahoy, Cap! Ship ahoy! Ship full of gold! + She's whirling south! Man the boats! Lay to! lay to! + Here's a squall winks at the pirates, lads! + Mount her, hardies! Break her hatches! Gold under 'em. + + (_Singing._) + + _There's foam up in her pitch-black flag;_ + _There's wind around her keel...._ (_Shouting._) + + Watch Alvinach, though! Keep the lantern dry! + + (_He stops and listens._) + + I hear you whispering, scoundrels!---Hya! Lie down. + Who said so? Louis lied. Stand back, I say! + Four on an old man! Dogs! Let go my hair! + + (_A loud clap of thunder._) + + The shrouds break now, God bless us! here's a wind + Will blow us far off to the Pleiades + And swamp us. (_Lightning._) + That was the Bear went by. And + Virgo has sunk here jewels in the south. + Sink 'em deep, girl! Pirates abroad.--What's this? + + (_Calling down._) + + Got it, boys? Got the gold? See it, see it shine! + Throw your cloak over it. Don't let God see this. + Ho, Prester John! sailing among the stars? + Here's your chest, John! Here's your sparklers! Where is he? + Where is he, boys? Throw the king overboard? + Pitched him to Plato on his big fork, eh? + _Odi Persicos._ Like their gold, though. Up, + Up with it, lads. Heave, now. Chest broken open. + Leak, gold, leak, leak! Here's your spring, Crashus! + Here, Jew! here you can cool your tongue! + Traders, drink! Drink, worms! Pigs! Pastors! Devils! + Drink, drink! Everything drink! + (_Stooping down._) Here's a dead man's ring. + Finger's in the coral. Bracelets and gems. + Topaz from Tartary. Emeralds from the East. + Garnets. Eh? Garter-buckles! (_Reproachfully._) + Lads! lads! + + (_A glare of lightning reveals him with his hand + close to his eyes._) + + "From Carlos." + Chloe's gone bathing, Carlos. Turned cold nymph. + Let go! Let go, I say! Androphanes! + Strike him, Juba! Slash him with the broad-sword! + You hand that back here, then. Hell-dog. + Here's a widow's mite; bought a monk's prayer. + Flip it into the sea. + Judas! here you are! (_Thunder._) + Rumble on! Growl and growl! Who cares for Heaven now? + Rain or not rain. We can fight, too, old boy. + Wipe your lips, Scariot. Take the chamois bag. + There's thirty-two. Off with you.--Wallets! Old coin! + Rich man, miser, knave! Sick, eh? Quick, your gold! + Take it to the priest, then you can jump + Right through the needle's eye. + + (_He gets down upon his knees._) Well, God bless + us! + + Sacked the sea-king's coffers. See the pearls! + Crescents and ear-bobs. Here's a brooch fine as + Sparkles on Memnon's sister. What's this clammy thing? + Cold, bloody hand! Hand with a locket in it! + _Un_lock it. Ho! picture, eh? Say mamma, baby! + Mamma's in the sea-weed. That's a foul deed. + Throw your cloak over it. Don't let God see this. + + (_Calling up._) + + Who's there? (_Rising._) Who calls Andrew? Stand down on the ground. + The lid _is_ off. (_Stooping._) Parchment deeds, eh? I. X. + If Andrew's Andrew, then I. X. is eleven. + What shines? Silver. (_A pause._) + Monk's cross. (_A pause._) + Wet. (_Flash of lightning._) + Red! (_With horror._) + Lads! lads! + We'll sink for this, God bless us! Pretty muss! + Who daubed it? (_Thunder._) Hear that. Horror in the dark + Doffs his big plume at this. And up there--Here! + Wash it! wash it in the sea! In with the chest, lads! + Murder like a foam-bird dashed upon the prow + Shakes her red wings. And there--Look! (_Shouting._) + Wash it clean! + Heaven's golden scales are rising from the deep! + Off! lay her--lay her off, lads! They'll weigh us! + + (_A sharp flash of lightning. Andrew is seen with + his left hand up beside his head, which is + drawn down, backing fearfully through the + door into the dormitory. The thunder rumbling + in the darkness sounds like the growl of an + enormous wild beast._) + + + + +ACT FIVE. + + + _SCENE ONE--A street in the village. Low thatched cottages,_ + _with deep, wide eaves overhanging the street, stand in a + dark mass. To the left, a little way from the others and + back a few paces from the street, is a small house, the_ + _home of Jardin. Through a window in the room on the right + side comes a faint light as from a low-burning lamp. To the + left of the window, one feels that there is a door, though, + either on account of intervening bushes or perhaps because + of a porch that makes it darker there, one does not see + it. Out in the yard where the light from the window falls + upon the bushes near the casement, the glistening of the + leaves shows that it has been raining. The windows of the + other houses, like vacant eyes under deep brows, are dark, + and there are no signs of life anywhere. Over the roofs and + through the great trees that rise up behind them flows a + greyness that emphasizes the quiet of the hour. About the + street lie several limbs that were broken off by the storm + during the night._ + + _TIME--Sunday morning. Day is just beginning to break._ + + A CRY-- (_Far to the left, full or terror and anguish._) + Haro! Haro! (_Drawing nearer._) + Wake, people! Help, oh, help! + + (_After a pause._) + + Will no one hear? Will no one hear? (_Near by._) + O men of God! Dear men of God! (_A pause._) Oh, run, + Run to the mountains, men! + + (_Pierre enters half on a run, breathless. There is + a wild light in his eyes and his thin frame + is shaken with sobs._) + + Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! + + (_He glances toward the lighted window as though in + doubt whether or not to rouse the inmates of + the house. Then, as though to make up even + for the moment he has lost, he hurries along + the goes out, right._) + + People! Christian people! + + (_The light in the window grows dimmer and suddenly + disappears, leaving the house in total + darkness._) + + Will no one hear? + Will no one hear? Wake! Oh, wake! (_In the distance._) + Haro! + + VOICE-- (_To the left._) + Jules! + + SECOND VOICE--(_Nearer._) Ho? + + FIRST VOICE-- Who is it? + + SECOND VOICE-- Some brother. + + (_Jules Bacqueur enters._) Pierre. + + FIRST VOICE-- The abbey's + Blown down, perhaps. + + HUGH CAPET--(_Entering._) Where are all the people? + + JULES BACQUEUR--At special mass for Jardin. + + (_He glances back toward the house where, at + that moment, the door opens and the light + appears._) + + HUGH CAPET--(_Hurrying on after Pierre._) Come on. + + JULES BACQUEUR-- Wait. + Let's hear how the Bailiff is. + + (_Hugh Capet returns to the corner of the cottages + that are flush with the street and the men + look back to where two figures, one after + the other, appear in the lighted doorway + of Jardin's house, a man who comes out and_ + _an old woman with a white cap on who carries + a small lamp. A little later the door is + closed._) + + HUGH CAPET-- Who is it, Jacques? + + JULES BACQUEUR--He spent the night there. + + HUGH CAPET-- What a night it was! + Just see these limbs. + + JULES BACQUEUR-- And there's some fellow's hat. + + HUGH CAPET--The roof's off Pirot's barn, and Lisette-- + + JULES BACQUEUR-- Here. + + (_He comes forward to the edge of the street._) + + HUGH CAPET-- (_Following him._) + And Lisette found a big bird in her yard + With a broken wing, blown in here miles and miles, + From the Holy Land or Joppa or some sea. + + JULES BACQUEUR-- (_Pointing right._) + Look at those yew trees in the church yard there. + Bless God, they've pulled up dead mens' skulls. (_A pause._) + + HUGH CAPET--And those men there--? + + BACQUEUR-- Are filling up the graves. + And where's the cross? (_A pause._) + + HUGH CAPET-- Not on the steeple? Say, + That monk--There's something up. When dead men's bones + Are thundered over in the night, and graves + Ungorge like that with wind, strange birds, and things-- + + VOICE-- (_Left._) + Who is that shouting? + + HUGH CAPET-- Don't know. + + BACQUEUR-- How's Jardin? + + JACQUES--(_Entering._) Eh? + + HUGH CAPET--He didn't hear you. + + JACQUES-- What's he shouting for? + + BACQUEUR--The storm tore up the dead last night. + + HUGH CAPET-- The abbey's + Blown down, perhaps, or-- Come on. Hurry, men. + + BACQUEUR--How is the Bailiff? (_Distant thunder._) + + HUGH CAPET--- (_Hurrying out right._) + Going to have another'n. + + JACQUES--The soldier had a bad night. In his fever + He picks the sheets, mumbling: "Saints, send him down," + And: "Listen, men!" and things like that. And once, + Jumps him clean out of bed and cries out: "There!" + As he had run the woodman through and through, + And wipes his sword like on his pants, and then, + As though he felt his wound, falls back and pop! + The wind or something blows the light out and + We hear the banshee singing in the storm, + Wild--wild. I fear the bell with toll 'fore night. + + (_They go out._) + + + _SCENE TWO--The open space in front of the church. In the + corner of the fence, left, the top of the poplar tree,_ + _broken off by the wind during the night, hangs out in the_ + _street almost brushing the ground. To the right of the_ + _steps is a large wooden cross which was blown from the_ + _steeple. It lies sidewise, hazing been split off at the + bottom. The gate into the church yard is slightly ajar, as_ + _though some one had lately passed through, and against the + dark grass the taller of the white grave markers lean as + though the wind had been among them. Over the low fences + where one looks back into the church yard on the one side + and into an open space on the other, is seen yellow light + from the side windows of the church, pouring out into the + gloom. From within, comes the sound of the service._ + + CONGREGATION--His spear was lifted over Acre, Lord, + And his right arm hath made the heathen quail. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And he hath spread thy glory through the East. + + CONGREGATION--And he hath spread thy glory through the East. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Let not the flags be draped that fluttered high + Above the strongholds of the Infidel. + + CONGREGATION--Let not the flags be draped that fluttered high + Above the strongholds of the Infidel. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Let not the scorners from the mountain tops + Look down and see the dark procession go; + But lift him up and lift up trembling, Lord. + + CONGREGATION--Let not the scorners from the mountain tops + Look down and see the dark procession go; + But lift him up and lift up trembling, Lord. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Keep death off, Lord, until the gates of death + Receive the accursed hand that laid him low. + + CONGREGATION--Keep death off, Lord, until the gates of death + Receive the accursed hand that laid him low. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Let not thine enemies triumph over thee. + Thunder it, brethren, so that God may hear. + + CONGREGATION--Let not thine enemies triumph over thee. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The mountains are afraid of thee, O Lord. + Shake their wild tops and shake the heathen down. + + CONGREGATION--The mountains are afraid of thee, O Lord. + Shake their wild tops and shake the heathen down. + + FATHER BENEDICT--So shall thy Church with loud hosannas ring. + + CONGREGATION--So shall thy Church with loud hosannas ring. + + FATHER BENEDICT--World without end. + + CONGREGATION-- World without end. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Amen. + + PIERRE--(_Far to the left._) Haro! haro! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Accept, O eternal Father, the offering that is + here made to Thee by Thy minister, in the name of us all here + present. It is as yet only bread and wine, but by a miracle of + Thy power and grace will shortly become the body and blood-- + + PIERRE--(_Drawing nearer._) Help, help! Oh, help! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_After a pause, as though he had heard the cry._) + + --the body and blood of Thy beloved Son. He is our high priest + and He is our victim. By Him and-- + + PIERRE--O men of God! Dear men of God! + + (_There is a hush in the church._) + + _Will_ you not help? _Will_ you not-- + + (_He enters with his hands to his head, fearful + lest he has disturbed the service._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Resuming._) + He is our high priest and He is our victim. + + (_Pierre throws himself down upon the steps, + sobbing._) + + By Him and through + Him, we desire to approach--Sit down, men! (_A pause._) + Women! Men! Sit down! + + (_The noise in the church increases._) + + A VOICE-- Sit down, brethren! + Don't desecrate the Lord's house! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Shouting._) You hear me? + + A WOMAN'S VOICE--Husband! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Enraged._) Malediction! + + (_The church door is jerked open, and the people + come pouring out with anxious faces lest + something terrible has happened. Back in the + church, above the heads of the people, is + seen the altar ablaze with lights, and high_ + _behind it a colossal cross with a beautiful + carven Christ upon it. The wound in the side + shows red and over the thorn-crowned brow + is an arch bearing in golden letters the + inscription: FORGIVE THEM FOR THEY KNOW NOT + WHAT THEY--The DO has never been put on._) + + PIERRE-- (_Staggering up from the steps._) + Run, run to the mountains, men! + Quick! quick! + They're dragging him off! They're dragging him off! + O run, run, run, run, run! + + CRIES--What--where--who is it? + + PIERRE--Yonder! yonder! + Oh, get torches, + Get torches and run + And kindle fires on the mountain tops + So he may see his way! + No, that won't help! Oh, that won't help! + But he can hear, though! + Call, call to him! + Search all the places where the blind may be! + Run shouting "Oswald! Oswald!" through the woods! + Find him, oh, find him before Satan comes! + Before the storm breaks! + They'll track him by the blood drops! + They'll tear his body on the mountains! + O men, dear men-- (_A clap of thunder. Pierre dodges._) + What--what was that? + Oh, God said something! God said something! + + (_Pointing up at the sky._) + + He knows! He knows! + Lord Jesus knows that it was not his fault! + And He will pay--oh, He will bless you, men! + Do, do, do run! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Make way! + + PIERRE--O Father! Father! + + (_In his snow-white chasuble, the priest appears + pushing his way through the throng about the + door. In his hand he has a silver communion + plate with the bread upon it._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Why all this clamor? + This is the Sabbath and the hour of mass. + + PIERRE--It's done! It's done! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Descending the steps._) + How dare you cry out on this holy morn? + + PIERRE--Oh, last night, Father, last night in the dark + White angels, oh, white angels in the storm--It + tore their wings and blew them from the sky, + And then--and then--O father, then the fiends--He + saw them in the stones and--screamed and--Oh, + They did a deed of horror in the dark! + + (_He presses his hands into his eyes as if to + shut out the sight of it._) + + Oh! Oh! Oh! + + FATHER BENEDICT--What is this? + + PIERRE-- (_Bending up and down._) + Oh! Oh! Oh! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Pierre! (_A pause._) + Pierre, if Hell hath done + Some wild deed in the night, be sure that God + Will right it. + + PIERRE--Will He, oh, will He, Father, make him to see-- + See the blue sky again? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Who is it Hell hath blinded in the night? + + PIERRE-- (_With his hands to his eyes, sobbing._) + Brother--brother-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--Pierre! + + PIERRE--O, Oswald! Oswald! + + (_With a cry, Madam Bacqueur falls fainting upon + the steps. The women about her take her child + from her arms and support her back into the + church. The crowd stands silent._) + + PIERRE-- (_Bending up and down._) + Say something! say something! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Almost overcome._) + Can this be true? Can this be true, Pierre? + + PIERRE--Oh! Oh! Oh! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Swift fly the avenging angels from the Throne. + Guilt like a red cloud passes from the sky, + And day looks in and sees where eyes have been. + + PIERRE-- (_As though his heart would break._) + Brother! brother! brother! + + FATHER BENEDICT--_Praise be to God!_ + The tempest shaketh showers upon the grass; + The storm wind cooleth the low violet; + But the proud pine I shatter, saith the Lord. + He shall go down and toss his boughs in hell. + The coffin-worm shall slime him. He shall not + Mock me upon the mountains, saith the Lord. + _Praise be to God!_ + + (_Pierre glances up at the priest and then, as from + something infernal, falls flat and hides his + face against the ground._) + + The lights are out in Babylon the Proud, + And the Lord God in blackness sitteth there + Among the ruins, dealing judgment. + + (_The rising wind blows shut the door of the + church and leaves the scene enveloped in the + half-light of early morning._) + + My scales are hung in heaven, saith the Lord. + I weigh them in the darkness of the night. + They balance with the Dragon on one side. + _Glory be to God in the highest!_ + + (_Shouting off demoniacally in the direction of the + abbey._) + + Lift up thy head, O Lucifer, in hell, + And see what God hath written on the sky + In letters that burn through thy broken panes. + + (_With his finger as though tracing the letters._) + + "Weighed and found wanting! + I am the Lord God. + In Me the moon goes down; in Me the sun + Rises; I am the night and day. + If over any man a light break forth + And make his brow bright, let him not think + It shines for him alone, and be puffed up + Because of it, and speak + Bitterly, saying: 'See what pure prayers can do.' + For when his lungs are empty, saith the Lord, + Then I will give him flesh unto the dogs. + I will put out the light that kindles pride, + Saith the Lord God, and with the light the eyes." (_In a wild chant._) + _Praise be to God who doeth all things well._ + Shinar hath seen the glory of the Lord. + Nimrod, who piled up Babel to the stars, + Lies sprawling under it, and the thunders laugh. + + (_Shouting in the direction of the abbey._) + + Who lieth under Babel?--Up, Pierre; + I have a message. Rise, for you + Must bear it to your sainted abbot. + + (_Pierre rises and, with his head thrown back and + his hands covering his face, without waiting, + goes straight out, left._) + + "Benedict to his brother in Christ, + Greeting: + Who lieth under Babel? You were right + In saying that the storm would shake the world. + It hath indeed played havoc. Certain trees + In the churchyard tore the graves up, and the dead + Have shaken roofs and spires in the town. + We lost our cross. + I hear you, too, lost somewhat. Gables though + Can be repaired. + We should both thank our Lord he hath not let + A lamb he careth for be scathed. + Who lieth under Babel?" + + (_Coming out in the street and shouting after + Pierre._) + + And to the brother, the dear ward of God, + Convey felicitations! + Ask him to + Tell you the color of the abbot's hair + This morning. + Wake him! + Say: + "The stars are flying in and out the clouds; + The mountain tops are tinging; + Night passes; + Rouse up, and behold the Dawn + Pouring her beautiful gold upon the world!" + Tell him to + Run down and see the print the bishop John + Sent me from Rome. + Blind Samson's head, who pulled the pillars down, + Under a dog's paws in the Gaza streets. + And in his car, as a salutation for the Sabbath, + Bark this from Benedict, from Benedict, the dog: + "Pride is a wind that from the shores of light + Bloweth far off where neither sun nor moon + Nor stars shine nor shall shine forevermore." + God hath heard one prayer. Come in, men. + + (_He enters the church. After a silence the + men about the steps begin to talk among + themselves in undertones._) + + ONE OF THEM-- (_Calling through the door._) + Father! + + ANOTHER--If he don't let us go, let's go ourselves. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Reappearing._) + Who called? (_A pause._) + What is it? + + A MAN--Before you come out, Father, the monk spoke + Like as how the chase was on. + + ANOTHER--"Run to the mountains, men!" + + ANOTHER-- "Quick! quick!" + + ANOTHER--Said we should find him before Satan comes. + + ANOTHER--That was before you came out. + + FIRST MAN--Spoke like as how the dogs were on his trail. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Run, some one, and fetch Pierre back. + + (_Two men dart out, left._) + + He did not tell me this. (_A pause._) + Arm yourselves, men. + + (_In a mass the men hurry out, left, a confused hum + of voices rising for a moment, then dying + away in the distance. The scene has grown + darker. A gust of wind blows to the door of + the church._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Alone upon the steps._) + This is the day. (_A pause._) + Inscrutable are the ways of God. Dark, dark, + Unfathomable the sea in which He moves. + He changeth as the waters change, and yet + The mountains strike their roots in Him and stand. + + (_Thunder right. The priest comes down from the + steps and out into the street, where he + stands looking up at the sky._) + + Thy ways are not our ways. Thy voice is heard + Abroad upon the firmament. The stars + That should have been put out an hour ago + Burn bright upon the edges of the storm. + Satan hath laid his hand upon the sun, + And the day gropes, feeling her way far off + As doth the blind. But yesterday the morn + Walked beautiful on the mountains, with her lamp + Kindled as for the Resurrection. + This is the Sabbath, yet Golgotha's gloom + Hangs o'er the Sepulcher, and like a torch + Thrown down upon the mountains burns the dawn + A scant blue flame far down behind the world. + + (_A pause._) + + God shall not call in vain. + + (_Looking left._) + + I will forgive + The bitter words. The lost shall be reclaimed. + + (_He walks briskly back and climbs the steps and + enters the church. A man with a shovel on + his shoulder appears coming from back in the + churchyard. He stops by the fence and looks + about._) + + THE MAN--Don't see them. + + A VOICE-- (_From back in the churchyard._) + Someone's moaning in the church. + + (_Another man appears with a shovel. They listen. + Faint shouting, left._) + + FIRST MAN--Let's leave our shovels here. + + (_They put down their shovels and get over the low + fence into the open space before the church + and start, left. Pierre is heard returning._) + + PIERRE--But it was not his fault. + + (_Between the two men he enters wringing his + hands._) + + It was the fiends that did it. + 'Twas his hand but-- (_Starting back._) + They're hiding--they're hiding back of there! + + (_He points to the broken top of the poplar tree + that hangs out in the street. The men from + the churchyard come from behind it._) + + Oh, they've been by the graves! + + (_He covers his face with his hands and bends up + and down, sobbing hysterically._) + + ONE OF THE MEN-- What has he done? + + (_With a great shining crucifix upon a staff, the + priest appears in the doorway and comes + hurriedly down the steps._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Pierre, in the name of God, all-hail! + I greet you as one having holy lips, + Since God hath chosen you to set on fire + With one bright word all days to be. Pierre, + Which way hath he gone? God is waiting. + The seraphim--Nay, fear me not, for I + Have been baptized with fire that hath fallen + Suddenly from heaven. Which way hath he gone? + To the high places fly the seraphim + And banners flash and fade among the clouds. + The Lord of Life into my power hath given + The life of him who spoke--I will forgive + The bitter words. This is the day of days. + Within I shine, though round about the storm + Spreadeth her gloom. Even my hands are dark. + The thunder peals the muster of the dead. + + (_Faint shouts, left._) + + PIERRE-- (_Falling upon his knees._) + They've bitten him! they've bitten him! Pray! pray! pray! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Nay, Pierre, these are shouts of them whose mouths + Shall sing upon the mountains when my hand + Shall rend the hound and pluck the blind from death. + His breath is in the hollow of my hand, + And though he taunted me and though I might-- + + (_He blows in his palm._) + + The dream shall be fulfilled. Throughout all time + All dreams shall hail this dream a holy thing + That hath chosen from all days this holy day + To wake and run. While from the Sepulcher + God rolls the stone back, the dream opens hell + And slips the dogs while angels have the world. + Henceforth the Angel of the Resurrection, + Hand in hand with the hunter's dream, shall run + With fiery feet over the ages leaving + Luminous the eyes of holy men. + For me this is a great day. From the clouds + The purposes of God, in fold on fold, + Fall round and mantle me with light. Pierre, + In what dread shape came Blindness through the halls + Of the abbey, feeling for the brother's eyes + In the darkness? What did he say when God + With one blow blotted out the moon and sun + Forever, and the faces of his friends? + Forgiveness did he cry for, for the things-- + But that is past. I have been and shall be, + Yesterday and to-morrow, Benedict. + To-day, as nameless as the stars of heaven, + Forgetful of all injuries like the winds, + I rush about the earth and, like the lightning, + Will strike where God shall throw me. Like the rain, + I shall fall mercifully on hot eyes that lit + But a few hours before with pride and scorn + But now are dark forever. + + PIERRE-- Oh! Oh! Oh! + + FATHER BENEDICT--I will not say that. God in his power can make + The blind earth fill the sockets of the blind + With balls as bright as orbs of seraphim, + Or without eyes can fill the soul with light. + Your brother, Pierre, fell upon the dark-- + _My_ brother; I will say it and forgive-- + Our brother fell on darkness not last night, + But long since turned his shining face away + From light, and gradually as the sun + Sinks, sank low down where sun and moon and stars + Say, "Vanity!" and the grave is over all. + + (_The sobbing of Pierre is heard._) + + But he shall rise. I thank God for this power. + It shall be to my glory that for hate + I returned love. Vengeance is His, and I + Simply a wind to blow and do His will. + God shall have praise, but I shall have praise, too. + Names shall be written high and lamps shall burn + Under them, so that all the saints may see. + + (_He comes out in the street and stands looking in + the direction in which the men went, talking + to himself._) + + Then some who with high heads walked this low earth-- + 'Tis not my prayer, but if God so decide-- + What a day will bring forth no man can-- + + (_Turning back._) + + Pierre, + Did he speak of me when the blow fell? Did he say, + "I wronged that holy man"? Did he say that? + With what word bade he farewell to the stars? + Did not remorse--Why do you look at me + With eyes of horror? + + PIERRE-- (_Shuddering._) + Out into the dark + As if to-- + + (_He presses his hands into his eyes._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--With no word? + + PIERRE-- "The dogs! the dogs!" + + FATHER BENEDICT--And called, then, I suppose, upon the dwarf. + Did he appear and give him back his eyes? + I judge not, from these tears that trickle down. + And did no sinner's wail go up to God? + God, Pierre, will plant eyes in his blind soul. + With what cry hoisted he sail for the dark land? + + PIERRE-- (_Between sobs._) + "Father--Woden!" + + FATHER BENEDICT--Ha, and he saw him, then! + Cried to the Father that the heathen god + Was putting out his eyes! 'Tis well. In that + Last flash God showed him whence the darkness came. + + (_One of the men who came back with Pierre whispers + to the Priest._) + + PIERRE--Lord Jesus knows that it was not his fault. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Amazed._) + Did he do that, Pierre, did he do that? + + PIERRE--'Twas not his fault. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _Put out his eyes himself!_ + + PIERRE--Oh, in his fever-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What will sin not do! + + PIERRE--And someone-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Rather than look upon my face! + By this deed he admits the charge I made. + + PIERRE--And someone--someone told him of the dream, + How that the dogs should tear him-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Stop right there! + You come down here to cast his blood on me? + I see the hand inside this hellish glove. + + (_He turns and comes straight out into the street._) + + PIERRE-- (_Timidly._) + 'Twas that that did it. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Lifting his hand and shouting aloud._) + Go back, men, go back! + We will stay here! This I will _not_ forgive. + + (_He returns toward the church and climbs the + steps. On top he stops, stands for a moment, + then sets his crucifix in the doorway and + comes back down. Pierre, fearing he is about + to be attacked, draws back. The priest follows_ + _him._) + + I know who sent you down here and I know + Why. (_Shaking his finger._) + Pierre, had this word not been distilled + Under old fangs and put in your young mouth, + This sting should cost you something. As it is, + In you I overlook it. + + (_Hoarse with wrath._) + + The old snake! + God shall pass judgment between me and him. + The seraphim shall burn his mouth with coals. + Accursed envy! He beneath the wreck + Of Babel lies and thence looks out and sees + Me in white garments on the mount of God + Going toward glory, and it rankles in him. + + (_Women appear in the doorway._) + + And so he seeks to terrify my soul + With: "Hide from the lightning! God is in it!" + As though I went toward Ramoth-Gilead + With Ahab's hand smoking with prophets' blood. + That is why he told you to tell me this. + But I will not be terrified by him. + + (_Pierre backs out._) + + Accursed envy! And you tell him so. + Much rather would he see the brother lost-- + + (_The women press too close and the crucifix + tumbles down the steps._) + + What is it you do? Go back in there! God's curse-- + + (_Looking after Pierre._) + + On any man who would much rather see + A dear son lost than see me glorified. + Tell _him_ to hide. The wind that curls these clouds + Is the same wind that blew last night. Does he + With black mouth cry to me my hand is red? + If it be, if he think so, you tell him to stand + On his wrecked gable and watch Benedict + Walk right straight up to God with this red hand + And take the crown and leave no finger marks. + + (_On tiptoe, Madam Valmy steals down the steps to + recover the crucifix._) + + As for his charge that I have done this deed, + Tell him it smells of Hell.--Go back in there! + + (_Madam Valmy goes back up the steps and the women + withdraw from the door._) + + Daunted shall I be by lying lips? + Shall Belial reign? Shall God call twice and thrice? + I will not leave my cup of glory stand + Untouched because the old snake cannot drink; + Because he, having wormwood on his lips, + Cries: "God boils in the wine upon the heights!" + I will drink it. + + (_Armed and with Jacques Sar at their head, the + men enter silent, their faces showing + disappointment. In the disorder in which they + enter, there are traces of three lines into + which they had been drawn up._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- We will go, men. + + (_The men brighten up and become turbulent, and the + three lines immediately reappear. The priest + walks back toward the church._) + + Pick up-- + + (_A man goes toward the crucifix that lies on the + ground. The Priest steps upon the steps and + turns, facing the men. While he speaks, + Jacques Sar marches the lines right and + wheels them around so as to face left, the_ + _direction in which Pierre came and went. For + others who keep coming in, he finds places in + the lines and, examining weapons and moving + the men about, goes up and down with the air + of an old commander._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Men, + This is the grandest day that ever mixed + Her golden hair with banners. The hunter's dream, + That flashed and vanished in the night, after + Lying like our Lord three days in darkness, + Bursts like a shining angel upon the world + + (_He receives the crucifix._) + + And dazzles. We see not clearly, for the light + Blinds as the darkness doth. All night the earth + Tumbled as a man in fever. Saints on fire + Walked grandly on the mountain combs and called, + And the graves opened, and the silent ones-- + What can it mean that of the churchyard dead + Only the soldiers rose? And that, too, when + Hell's hand was heavy on the brother? Men, + At midnight riding down the mountain, I + Saw wonders and heard things I dare not tell. + What the hounds are I know not, but I know + One up there hath a snare laid for them. And I-- + I see my name in fire on those clouds. + These winds shall blow it luminous, and all + The world shall see it, and all time. Then some + Who now accuse me will come round with smiles. + For I will not be terrified by him. + + (_He says something under his breath and comes + quickly down the steps and out into the + street where he shouts after Pierre._) + + Tell the old man I go upon this chase + Out of no love for him or for his monk. + For I despise them both. You + Tell him just what I say and why I go. + Tell him the storm hath spoken to me. Say + I saw a hand of fire in the night + Beckon, and heard a trumpet peal in heaven. + He thinks I am a coward. So I am; + I fear to disobey the voice of God, + And therefore go. Listen to me, Pierre! + You tell him this: Had Heaven not delivered + Its orders to me, by the throne of God, + Not a spear--Hear me?--not a single spear + Should redden in the rescue of this monk. + As for his charge that I have done this deed, + Tell him it smells of Hell. + + (_Thunder right. The priest turns and for a time + contemplates the sky in silence._) + + One of you men + Run and ask Pierre which way hath he gone, + For there are trails and trails. + + (_A man darts out, left._) + + JACQUES SAR-- Fly fast now, Noel. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Rapt, looking off at the sky, right._) + Why should the storm move that way, if the chase-- + + (_Turning left._) + + Lies yon way? We will wait. + + (_Aloud._) + + God seems to call + Up yonder where the lightning cracks the sky. + + (_After a silence, with his eyes upon the heavens._) + + Like golden links your names shall hang to mine + And dangle down the ages. Men shall say: + "This man and that man were with Benedict + Up in the glory of the Lord that day + When heathendom went tumbling down to hell." + Oh, you shall live forever envied men! + + (_He walks about buried in his thought. + Occasionally he stops for a moment in + meditation, then resumes his pace. Old + Jacques, hesitatingly and stopping whenever + the priest stops, follows him about as though + he wished to communicate something, but was + uncertain whether to break his revery. The + men watch them in silence._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + + (_Approaching the lines, his chin still upon + his breast._) + + Something I have to tell you, hitherto, + For his own good, religiously concealed. + For adulation maketh pride to swell + And man becomes an idol. (_Looking up._) + Years ago + A prophesy went sounding down the south + That sent a thrill through Christendom. From Rome + The echo came to us. The rumor ran + That in the Saxon forest lived a boy + Through whom the North should come contrite to God: + A shepherd as was Moses and therefore + Prepared to lead his people. Friar Paul + Was sent to flash the light upon his way + And win him unto Christ, to make his staff + Put forth green Christian buds. With what result + I need not tell you. Few, few men can bear + Honor and the favor of the Most High. He, + Moses himself could not. "Watch Moses now;" + And struck the rock. And then God: "Now watch Me;" + And gave his staff to Joshua. And here + I find a lesson, this: Glory shall pass + From the proud man to the humble man. To-day + I take that prophesy up in _my_ hands + And with it seek the mountains of our God, + And Heathendom shall fall like Jerich-- + + THE MAN--(_Returning._) Says + He don't know which way. Lost him in the dark. + + (_The crowd stands silent, not knowing which way to + go. A woman appears in the doorway._) + + WOMAN--Madam Bacqueur in her swoon hath thrice cried out: + "O keep from the mountains! Look! See there! + The fire of God falls on the hills. See! See!" + + FATHER BENEDICT--The voice of Hell that fears our coming. Woman, + Baths her entranced brows with holy water. + + (_The woman goes back in the church. Jacques speaks + to the Priest._) + + A MAN-- (_After a pause, from the rear line._) + Let's go toward the abbey. + + ANOTHER-- (_In the front line, pointing right._) + This way. + + ANOTHER-- (_Shaking his head, as though fearing the storm._) + No. + + SECOND MAN-- (_Shouting, left._) + Jules! + + (_He walks on a few paces and, frowning with + impatience, beckons in with his arm._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--This is a sudden beam on the dark web. + + JACQUES SAR--And his blood shed down yonder by the + bridge. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And the storm moving toward that mountain top. + + (_To the men._) + + Jacques tells me that our honored bailiff lies + His martial limbs half hanging in the grave. + + JACQUES SAR--I fear the bell will toll 'fore night. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_deeply moved._) + The dead + Soldiers are up to meet their sergeant. + + (_He walks quietly back and climbs the steps._) + + Men, + Wing and wing this terrible morning, fly + Two avenging angels toward one mountain top. + One in his hand two bloody eyeballs bears; + The other, an old man's picture with a wound + Swollen and with Death's finger in it. Fixed + On two eyes are their four eyes. Toward one man + Four wings and two bright swords are on their way. + They light! They beckon me! I see it all! + From two wounds two red trails converge in one! + The hounds that have their noses on the track + Of the brother, had their tongues in Jardin's blood! + _The big white talbot is Canzler!_ + + (_There is a moment's silence so intense that the + wind is heard whistling among the white + crosses in the churchyard. Then a terrible + shout goes up._) + + SHOUTS--Down with him! + To Hell with the hounds! + Lead us! Lead us! + + (_Jacques strikes with his sword and the lines + move swiftly to the left, the direction of + the abbey._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_To himself._) + God's purposes begin where man's prayers end. + + JACQUES SAR-- (_On fire._) + Right about! Face the heathen and face God! + + (_The lines wheel and face right, the direction in + which the storm is moving._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Transported._) + This is most wonderful. Men, Hell hath here + Packed all her seeds in one infernal bloom. + And who knew till this beam fell where to turn? + Henceforth let no man say he knows the way + That God will move on the morrow, for in a flash + The hem of his great garment passeth by. + + (_Bacqueur enters with an armful of swords and + spears. On his left shoulder hangs a great + shield._) + + JACQUES SAR--Here's two men have none. + + CRIES-- Here, Jules! + Hand me one! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Half to himself, his face upturned to_ + _the sky._) + What have I done that Thou shouldst honor me + With glory such as no man ever--Nay, + 'Tis not for me this glory is prepared, + For I have ever labored for another. + Thou movest in her and she in me and I + Am but a cloud upon her gale and storm. + Let no man move a foot. I know my time. + You see me but you see not what I see. + God hath arranged to bring us face to face. + This is no combat between merely men. + All Heathendom gives chase in this big hound. + Our brother stands for all men lost to God. + And my hand is the hand of Christendom. + + (_Bacqueur offers him a sword._) + + Nay, I have weapons that ye know not of. + + (_Looking off at the storm._) + + The lightnings whip the foothills and the clouds + Sag with the weight of the wrath of the Lord of Hosts. + + (_His face becomes luminous._) + + Who hears what I hear? Speak out. Then be still. + + (_With an old scarlet flag, amid the folds of which + sections of a white cross are seen, Hugh + Capet comes running in. Seeing the priest + entranced upon the steps and the men hushed + with awe, he checks himself._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Lifting his hand, without turning._) + If any man moves I will call down fire. (_A silence._) + To-day the last great tower of Hell goes down. + + (_He comes down the steps._) + + JACQUES SAR-- (_His voice quivering with emotion._) + This banner once waved over Acre, men. + + HUGH CAPET--And we will plant it on Jerusalem. + + SHOUTS--God's with us! God's with us! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Lifting his hand._) + Hear my last word. + + JACQUES SAR-- Silence! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Let there be + No shouting or any noise. Let us go + Quietly as befits the Sabbath day. + The vales blow white. Yonder the mountains stand + Like quiet altars waiting sacrifice. + You, with the holy banner of God, stand here. + Now if there be among you one who hath + Guilt, looking upon this storm let him step + Out, lay his spear down and stay here and not + Tempt the wrath of God. For soon upon the heights + The heavens shall blacken and there shall be a loud + Burst of His power and the shining glory of God. + I pause a moment. Let that man step out + Now. (_A pause._) + Then you have naught to fear. The innocent + Are safe. God's shield is over them. Come. + + JACQUES SAR--The signal, Father. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- The signal shall be this: + + JACQUES SAR--Attention, men! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I shall uplift the Christ. + + (_He raises the crucifix._) + + And God, burning the clouds to ashes, will throw + Lightning upon Antichrist. Then you + Charge. (_A roll of thunder._) + The trumpets of the heavenly host. + + JACQUES SAR-- Now, men! + Up with your spears. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- There shall be wonders done. + + (_He starts right, the lines following him._) + + In years to come, men, tell your children this: + When God crowned Benedict upon the heights + It was not Benedict but the Church He crowned. + + (_They go out silent. The scene has become darker + and the wind is heard whistling among the + white crosses in the churchyard. Back in the + church through the open door is seen the + beautifully carven Christ with overhead in_ + _golden letters the inscription: FORGIVE THEM_ + _FOR THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY--. The DO has + never been put on._) + + + _SCENE THREE--The mountain side, as in Scene one of the + third Act. There is heard a steady roar as of wind over + vast forests, and all about are signs of an approaching_ + _storm. At intervals an unnatural, ghastly light as from + rifted clouds swiftly driving overhead passes across the + scene. In a moment the gloom has returned and the trees are + racing back into the shadow._ + + _Back upon the ledge, his long yellow hair tossing in the_ + _wind, stands Rudolph watching the gathering of the storm._ + + RUDOLPH-- (_To himself._) + Flying on starless wings the Powers of night + Keep back the bird of morning till the Norns + Have traced the lines of guilt and set the snare. + + (_A moment later Canzler appears coming down the + sheep-path._) + + CANZLER--What was that shouting down the mountain for? + + RUDOLPH-- (_Turning quickly._) + The whirling of the wheel! + + CANZLER-- The wheel? + + RUDOLPH-- (_Hurrying forward._) + Look there + Where the vast felly flies! Far out it swings + And sways the forests. Look at it, Canzler! + For miles around below the mountain heads + The storm goes racing in a wheel whose hub + Turns on the village spire. + + (_Canzler follows him back along the ledge._) + + Awhile ago, + Divinely guided through the mountain ways, + A common cloud, afloat upon the dark, + Blotted the stars that glimmered in the tarn + And whirled into a wheel. Around the rim + Flows the white cloud-wool, and a thread is drawn + Under the hills. The distaffs of the Norns + Grow big with fate, and, sitting there in silence, + Their withered fingers from this flying skein + Loop off the lives of men. Val-father takes + In his almighty hand the reins of things + And drives them either way through earth and air. + + (_Shouting far down the mountain._) + + CANZLER--I heard that far up on the mountain tops. + + RUDOLPH--In some procession honoring their god. + + CANZLER--But louder now. + + RUDOLPH-- And nearer. + + CANZLER-- Where is Fritz? + + RUDOLPH--Rounding the sheep up. (_Shouting again._) + They have crossed the bridge. + + CANZLER-- (_Turning and looking at Rudolph._) + Honoring their god upon the mountain side? + + RUDOLPH--'Tis the great dragon crawling through the hills. + + CANZLER--No wonder darkness fills the valley. + + (_After a pause_.) + + And in a storm like this! + + RUDOLPH-- Hunger. + + CANZLER-- No doubt. + And there is hunger in the heavens, too. + + RUDOLPH--And the two face. (_They listen._) + The Asas all night long + Were loud above the mountains as though some + Vast purpose long pent up were finding way. + + CANZLER--And Selma heard it like a river flow + Washing the peaks and down the wooded slopes + Into the valley where the dragon lies. + + (_Shouts still afar but growing nearer._) + + That belly levels all things in the plain. (_Thunder._) + + RUDOLPH--Val-father's voice from out the clouds mid-air + Meets with the dragon's voice and devours it. Hark! + + CANZLER--It may lay hands on Fritz. + + (_He goes back along the ledge and starts down the + mountain._) + + RUDOLPH-- Be careful, chief! + The wheel moves this way. + + CANZLER-- It is following them. + + RUDOLPH--Here he comes running up the mountain! + + CANZLER-- Where? + + RUDOLPH--Wait till the lightning shows the slopes again. + + (_They listen. The shouts draw nearer._) + + CANZLER--The Bailiff's blood has roused them. + + RUDOLPH-- With that blood + Val-father has enticed it from its lair + To tempt the mountains and to seek for more. + + (_Lightning._) + + Up here! Coming up here! + + CANZLER--(_Shouting._) Fritz! + + RUDOLPH-- The dark bloom, + Whose scattered roots the years have fed, at last + Unfolds its petals to the sun. The North + In all her graves is waiting for the dawn. + To-day Val-father lays his shadow by. + + CANZLER--Go up the rocks and blow the battle horn. + + (_Rudolph goes leaping up the rocks._) + + And let the battle cry be "Dachtelfeld"! + + RUDOLPH--The peaks are tipped with day! + + (_He disappears up the rocks._) + + VOICE OF SELMA--(_Above._) Where are you, Father? + + (_Lightning._) + + CANZLER--Stay from the timber! Don't get near the trees! + + (_Thunder._) + + Stay in the open, Selma! + + (_The form of Canzler, who stands back upon the + ledge, disappears in the gathering gloom._) + + VOICE OF SELMA-- Father! + + VOICE OF FRITZ--(_Down the mountain._) Chief! + + (_There is heard, at first scarcely audible but + rising more and more, low music as of spirit + voices. Above, just where the sheep-path + enters the bushes, Selma appears coming_ + _hurriedly down. Hearing the music, she stops + and, listening, becomes as one entranced._) + + SELMA-- (_Almost in a whisper._) + Father! + + (_Canzler comes forward into view. The girl, still + transported and more like a being of the air, + has come further down the path._) + + Oh, hear them! + + CANZLER-- Go back, go back, child! + They shall not harm you. (_She rushes to him._) + They will not come up here. + + (_The girl lays her hand on his arm. They listen._) + + Only Val-father's voice along the storm. + + VOICE OF FRITZ--Chief! + + CANZLER-- It is Fritz. + + SELMA--- The trees--the trees are singing. + The wild vines and the mountain flowers--Oh! + O Father, see! + + CANZLER-- What ails you, child? + + SELMA--The elves--the storm elves gather in the air, + And up the mountain there-- + Hear them, Father! Hear the fairies calling! + Oh, the white flakes! The dog-wood blooms are falling! + + (_She runs wildly up the path._) + + He's coming, Father! Oswald's coming! + + (_She disappears among the bushes. In the rear + Fritz is seen climbing up the mountain._) + + FRITZ-- (_Who goes leaping on up the rocks._) + Chief! + + CANZLER--Here I am. + + (_Fritz leaps back down to the ledge and comes + hurrying forward._) + + FRITZ-- (_Out of breath._) + They've killed--they've killed the sheep! + Like hungry dogs. It's us they're after, though. + Dashed in and slashed them with their swords. Hear that! + + (_Wild shouting below._) + + That's for our blood. (_They listen._) + If we don't arm, chief,-- + CANZLER-- Hark! + + FRITZ-- (_After a pause._) + If we don't arm-- + + (_Up the mountain sounds the battle horn._) + + To have lived to see this day! + + (_He hurries up the path and disappears._) + + CANZLER--Val-father's winds have blown them here to die. + + (_He goes up the path. The music is now distinctly + heard above the noise of the storm. A flash + of lightning reveals, in the rear, the dwarf + climbing up the mountain, leading Oswald + by the hand. Instantly loud and prolonged_ + _shouting bursts up from about a hundred feet_ + _below. The two come hurrying forward along + the ledge. Oswald's face is streaked with + blood and from the end of its black cord, his + silver crucifix, likewise stained, dangles + almost to his knees. Gradually it slips lower + and lower till it finally falls and lies upon + the grass. Having reached the path, they make + their way up and are soon lost to view. That + peculiar light which one sometimes sees when + clouds are rifted during a storm illumines + the scene and makes the green grass and trees + show almost like flame. Below, voices are + heard, and soon, climbing up the mountain, + Father Benedict appears, his face pale, his + eyes set before him. Upon the skirt of his + snow-white chasuble there is seen, slanting_ + _down, a red streak as though he had pressed + against a bloody sword-blade. Behind him, + scattered, come, first, Hugh Capet with the + great flag blown straight out in the wind, + then Jules Bacqueur and Jacques Sar, their + swords dripping, and, after them, the other + villagers._) + + JULES BACQUEUR--Straight ahead. Father! Straight ahead! + + A VOICE-- (_From below._) + See them, Hugh? + + JACQUES SAR--You come on; we'll find them. + + (_Instead of coming forward to the path, which the + bushes and bowlders hide from their view, + they go pushing straight on up the rocks._) + + HUGH CAPET--Come on, men! + + JACQUES SAR--Stay together, men! (_A pause._) + Hold her low, Phil! + + (_Up the mountain sounds the battle-horn._) + + CRIES--Hear that! Hear that! + + JACQUES SAR--Don't get scared, men! + + CRIES--Don't get scared! Don't get scared! + + A VOICE--God's with us! + + ALL--God's with us! God's with us! + + HUGH CAPET--Come on, men! + + JACQUES SAR--Wait for the signal! Wait for the signal, men! + + (_All look to the priest._) + + Now then. + + JULES BACQUEUR--Now, Father. + + A VOICE--Now. (_A pause._) + + HUGH CAPET--Signal! signal! + + (_Above, sounds the battle-horn, this time nearer._) + + JACQUES SAR--Now! + + JULES BACQUEUR--Now then! + + CRIES--Now! Now! NOW! + + (_Slowly the priest lifts the crucifix._) + + ALL--God's with us! God's with us! + + (_They go springing up the mountain. A flash of + lightning strikes the uplifted crucifix + and clings for a moment like a wreath of + blue fire round the brow of the priest whose_ + _face shows white as chalk. The crucifix slips + from his fingers and he reels and falls + backwards._) + + CRIES--Men! Men! Men! + + (_As the men turn and see the priest, whom Jules + has caught in his arms, borne backward down + the slope, some of them throw down their + arms and flee terror-stricken down the + mountain. There is a loud crash of thunder_ + _followed, above, by the shouts of the Saxons + who come charging down upon them. Attempting + to rescue the priest's body, before which + Bacqueur has thrown his great shield, the + villagers receive the shock and are driven + back fighting down the mountain, Fritz hacking_ + _at Hugh Capet's head-with his battle ax, + Rudolph charging old Jacques, while Canzler + with one slash of his magic sword slices in + two Bacqueur's great shield which falls like + paper from his hands. Even after they have_ + _disappeared, from down the mountain can still + be heard the voice of old Jacques calling to + his men in God's name to stand. Up the slope, + caught in the bushes where it fell, hangs the + crucifix, the figure of which is tarnished + and melted by the lightning. On the ledge_ + _just below, outstretched upon the grass, + his fingers bent as though still clutching + the crucifix, lies the body of the priest. + The scene gradually becomes darker and the_ + _thunder is still heard reverberating through + the mountains._) + + + _SCENE FOUR--A forest on the mountain tops. Untouched by the + storm, which has swept the lower slopes, the trees here + stand calm and motionless. Flowers are everywhere. Far off, + between the innumerable trunks, is seen a space of dark sky + rifted near the horizon and bright with the red and gold of + the new dawn. From the left, into this forest stillness, + silent as the scene itself, comes the dwarf leading Oswald + by the hand. There is now no blood upon the latter's + face which, slightly upturned, is lighted as with a soul + conscious of a great crisis and hearing its approach in the + least noise. Suddenly, from far to the right, the voice of + Selma is heard. Instantly the dwarf vanishes. Oswald starts + and stands as one in a dream._ + + SELMA-- + + (_At first afar, then drawing nearer and nearer + until at last she rushes in gleefully. She + is dressed, as in the first Act, in green, + and upon her head she wears a coronet of_ + _wild-flowers._) + + Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! + + (_She starts, and throws herself at his feet, + covering her face with her hands. The disc of + the sun, emerging above the line of clouds, + shoots its myriad golden needles through the + wood. Revealed in the light, like things seen + in a mirage, a number of fairies are discerned_ + _watching the two. From far down the mountain + comes the sound of a bell tolling._) + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + + Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were + silently corrected. + + Punctuation normalized. + + Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed. + + Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_. + + Greek text is transliterated and enclosed in #number symbols#. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Saxons, by Edwin Davies Schoonmaker + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 47241 *** diff --git a/47241-h/47241-h.htm b/47241-h/47241-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d47bea2 --- /dev/null +++ b/47241-h/47241-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11887 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Saxons, by Edwin Davies Schoonmaker. + </title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; 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margin-left: 4.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 47241 ***</div> + +<div class="transnote covernote"> + <p>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="titlepage"> + + + + +<h1>THE SAXONS<br /> + +<span class="large">A DRAMA OF CHRISTIANITY IN THE NORTH</span></h1> + + +<p class="xlarge">BY EDWIN DAVIES SCHOONMAKER</p> + +<p>THE HAMMERSMARK PUBLISHING<br /> +COMPANY, CHICAGO. ILL., 1905 +</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, FEBRUARY, 1905,<br /> +BY<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Hammersmark Publishing Co.</span><br /> +CHICAGO</p> + +<div class="figcenter" > +<img src="images/saxonsdramaofchr00scho_0010.png" width="64" height="26" alt="" /> +<div class="caption"><p>JOHN F. HIGGINS PRINT 279-251 EAST MONROE ST</p></div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">TO MY MOTHER +</p> +<p> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> + +<a href="#PERSONS_OF_THE_DRAMA">PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_ONE">ACT ONE.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_TWO">ACT TWO.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_THREE">ACT THREE.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_FOUR">ACT FOUR.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_FIVE">ACT FIVE.</a><br /> +<a href="#Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber's Notes:</a><br /> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="PERSONS_OF_THE_DRAMA" id="PERSONS_OF_THE_DRAMA">PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.</a></h2> + + +<p>THE SAXON UNIT.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>, chief of the Saxons.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>, a shepherd.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Max</span>, } foresters.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>, an old man.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>, a gleeman.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>, a shepherd, afterward a monk.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Selma</span>, daughter of Canzler.</li> +</ul> + + +<p>THE ROMAN UNIT.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>, the village priest.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Father Paul</span>, a friar.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>, the bailiff.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>, an old crusader.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>, the smith.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>, the barber.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>, wife of Jules Bacqueur.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>, a country woman.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>, aunt of Madam Valmy.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rosa</span>, granddaughter of Rachel.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">A Boy.</span></li> +</ul> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + + +<p>THE GREEK UNIT.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">The Abbot of St. Giles.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Louis</span>, the prior of the abbey.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>, the sacristan.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>, an old acolyte.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ely</span>, the porter.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Simon</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rene</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Basil</span>, } monks.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Leo</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Guido</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Macias</span>, a hunter attached to the abbey.</li> +</ul> + + +<p>THE SUPERNATURAL.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Sigurd</span>, apparently a dwarf, really something else.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hulga</span>, a witch.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Zip</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>, } gnomes.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Suk</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Zory</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fairies.</span></li> +</ul> + +<p class="center">Other foresters, monks and villagers, men and women. +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i30">As for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let a man be a man. Outside of that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no power on earth that dares ask more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No power in heaven that will.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<p class="ph1">THE SAXONS</p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_ONE" id="ACT_ONE">ACT ONE.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—A road through a forest. On either side</i> +<i>trees stand thick and dark. Immediately in front the light</i> +<i>sifts down upon a rude bridge spanning a narrow stream.</i> +<i>At the roadside, to the right, a large crucifix, apparently</i> +<i>new, stands upon a post some ten feet in height. It is</i> +<i>elaborately carved and is set in a deep frame to protect it</i> +<i>from the weather. At the foot of the post, cut into the</i> +<i>mossy bank which slopes toward the road, is a kneeling</i> +<i>place with a white sheep's pelt lying upon it.</i></p> + +<p><i>A sound of voices is heard. Fritz and Rudolph enter</i> +<i>from the left and pause where a path leads off through</i> +<i>the wood. The latter has an ax upon his shoulder. Far in</i> +<i>the forest a faint sound of chopping is heard.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—Mid-day in summer, in the early part of the thirteenth</i> +<i>century.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—He's worth six.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— I'll give you five, you pick them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—I'll pick six.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— I'll keep my ewes, then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And walk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the mountains?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We have not gone yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— But—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And if I had my way we would not go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Nor would we go had I mine, Fritz. But we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have not our way. The dragon has his way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As far as Niflheim the North is red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Are we their sheep that we must follow them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or be hung up on trees?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— He follows us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Who do these woods belong to, anyhow?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Where a man puts his foot the dragon puts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His belly, and the man's track disappears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the tree that has not felt the storm?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have they not disappeared? Like leaves the tribes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are scattered.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It has blown down trunk and all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Forests and rivers and ten thousand graves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie under that red paw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It stains the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The Weser rolls down bodies to the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their yellow hair is matted in the Rhine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deer that drinks the Aller in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starts back from bloody faces in the stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are our fathers, Fritz, who cannot sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While this coiled Hunger tracks us toward the north.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And we must feed it, eh? We must grub roots,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fatten ourselves on acorns in the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As swine do, and then waddle to the swamp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stuff its belly so that it will sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trouble us no more, we must do that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—No; we must leave, and starve it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It don't starve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More hunger means more flesh. Let's feed it steel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Steel draws the blood and brings the hunger on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Then draw the life. We don't feed it enough.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—It eats the blade—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Then feed it hilt and all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—It eats our swords and they come out in claws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Canzler says, a thousand spears have but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peeled off its poisonous scales, and where they fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A deadly fire burns and the elves die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—We will call Wittikind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— From out the grave?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—His spirit will hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Wittikind was baptized.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—His head was baptized, but his heart was not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few drops here could not put out a fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That scarred and seamed the dragon till it lashed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maddened and bleeding, all the tribes away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spark of him is in this forest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Oswald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Silent and shy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Their fate whom Woden loves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He homes the lightning in the silent cloud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Weak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— In himself, but strong by prophesy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Can you or I or chief hasten the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein Val-father's voice shall wake the North?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What man can say unto the lightning, "Leap"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Woden's race, a million summer leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are, as it were, the winter mistletoe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lone green sprig with barren woods all round.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can we shake off the snow and say, "Appear,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the young race asleep within the trees?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cry out above the dragon winter, "Die"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot hurry in its growth one leaf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet you would thrust a sword in Oswald's hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking to hurry Prophesy along.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If naked strength can save us, why not chief's?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why Oswald, if the battle is to be now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the aid of Woden, he is naught.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Without it, naught, and with it, everything.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Val-father calls to-day then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Wiglaf's ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are where the whispers of the dead go by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Heard he the word, "to-day"?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And Wiglaf's eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blazed glee-fire and his lips spake Woden's word:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"In him shall be the strength of all your dead."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—In Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— In the seed of Wittikind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall make the whole North green."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— The "seed" of.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—There, Fritz, is where the whole great purpose turns.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Prophesy, you see, walks in the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man can say on whom it will lay its hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Why?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Would not Oswald's seed be Wittikind's?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you not see that some child still unborn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The issue of Oswald's loins, may be the one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take the sword that Woden will hand down?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile, suppose the Christians hear of this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their spies are all about us.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Dropping his voice and pointing to the bridge.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">Who knows?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—(<i>After looking under it.</i>) No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Suppose they once get rumor of it. Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suppose they torture Wiglaf for the rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not a thousand trumpets sound the chase?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will they not beat the forest through and through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set fire to it, and when the stag appears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall breed the fawn shall grow the golden horns—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As though drawing back a bow-string and letting spring</i> +<i>the arrow.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then what? What then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— We—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We have our swords.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—We have them now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And we can keep them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— We<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can neither keep our swords nor keep ourselves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who is it plants the white cross in our land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Frank? The Wend? The Saxon; we ourselves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No; in that fire that burns up from the south<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thousands of our swords have melted and become<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scales on the dragon's back and teeth and claws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That now tear out our hearts. To-day swords strike<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Woden, and to-morrow the strange god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those same swords storms Valhal, and lays low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its golden roof. Our ash Iggdrasil dies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its beautiful leaves fall far off on the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Let's kill the worm that bites it, then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— That worm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath bit the Northman and the Northman bites<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A crash is heard in the forest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It was the tree fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— So falls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Iggdrasil and the golden roof comes down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the North bites, Val-father dies. No, Fritz;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The South has thrown a snake upon the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in its trail no fairy can be found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, too, have gone to the mountains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Leave our homes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—For all of us it will be better there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slopes are thickly clothed with oak and pine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, too, your flock will find good grazing, Fritz.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conrad and I saw ledges thick with grass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—It's thick here, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And torrents tumbling down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill to the brim the basins of the rocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, in the dryest season—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Look down here. <span class="directline">(<i>He points down in the stream.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And this mid-summer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And game is plentiful.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—It's plentiful here, too; deer and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Chamois<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wild-goats browsing on the crags.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are wild-boars' lairs and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— The dragon's den.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—His den is here, but he feeds everywhere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Not on the mountains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— They are barren; but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would feed there if we should go there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—He ravages the whole wide—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Moving his hand horizontally.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i43">This way, yes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that way?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pointing up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">No. He dare not face the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That father Woden pours upon the peaks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under Valhalla's eaves the dark elf died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the dawn smote him; so the dragon there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His paws would break off on the mountain sides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—We will stay here and cut them off.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Those paws?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those huge, red, century-scarred paws? With what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—They want our woods and crofts, that's what they want.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The Saxon sword is broken. The great shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That covered all the North lies in the loam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rusting, and the wild-flowers eat its stains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are our fathers, Fritz? Heimdall, who sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All races, sees not anywhere that race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stood at bay when Swabian went down,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Frank and Bavarian and the great North fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A paw was put upon its breast and lo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is scattered, blood and bones and heart and brain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hand is here; its heart is in the north;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its head far off an island in the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its blood is everywhere, in grass, in leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its flesh still fronts the dragon in these trees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And we, we men—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Our time has not yet come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Must be the feet and run, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— We must wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the heart calls from the silent north.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Wait?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— You would have us—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— If we are the hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the hand strikes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Without the head? No, Fritz;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must delay our battle with the beast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A new shield we will shape us on the heights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Temper it in the flashes of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And boss it with the terror of the grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mountain metal on the mountain tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New armor we will forge. Let the old shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie here upon the plain, covering the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the leaves cover it. And for the sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That broken lies between the dragon's paws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father will reach down and put the hilt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some great Fafnir's-bane in Canzler's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler, in turn, in Oswald's when he weds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Oswald and the girl will pass it on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down to the hand of that child—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Canzler go?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Whom Woden shall bid seek the dragon's den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Siegfried of the North shall slay the snake.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler will not go. Canzler!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— He will go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler will lay him in the grave first.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Fritz,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who calls the fairies?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— What of that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Witchcraft.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—You mean that they will burn her?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Do they not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burn witches in the city...? We can die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We on our swords can perish; but the girl...?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes off through the wood, leaving Fritz silent upon the bridge.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler will lay his sword upon her throat.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With bowed head he walks on across the bridge. As he</i> +<i>passes into the deeper shadows the white sheep's pelt</i> +<i>lying in the bank at the roadside catches his eye. He</i> +<i>goes curiously toward it, when, seeing the post, he</i> +<i>glances up and stops suddenly. For a time he stands as</i> +<i>one appalled.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rudolph!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Ho!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Here!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">(<i>To himself.</i>) This will break Canzler's heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph reappears and joins Fritz, and the two stand in</i> +<i>silence, Rudolph with his eyes fixed upon the crucifix,</i> +<i>and Fritz with his eyes on Rudolph.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—What do you think?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— It was put up last night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—You still think we should leave here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Still think?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Can there be any doubt of what this means?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Almost its eyeballs gleam between the trees.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And if we leave here, what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— We bear away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some far mountain nest our eagle's egg.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We save our hope.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz points to the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">Only proves what I say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis some poor burgher who refused to bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would not leave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz goes toward the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i23">And they have put it up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mock us with the pains they will make us feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we don't bow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Bending over the pelt.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i17">Knee prints. He has knelt here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knelt here and prayed—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Coming back to the road.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">to Woden, do you think?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know the hand that carved that?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph goes closer and scrutinizes the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i39">Your great sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is it now, Rudolph? the Fafnir's-bane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father should reach down to Canzler's hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whose hand will the chief's hand pass it now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the dragon's belly will he come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Siegfried, with the great heart of the beast?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hope, our eagle's egg, where is it now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—It can't be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Fritz</i>— Can't be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Rudolph</i>— Can't be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Fritz</i>— But it is.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At dusk last night I saw him in the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he was wending this way carrying that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there are knee-prints on it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i33">And that thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What other hand could have carved out that brow<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And laid that sorrow there? Look at those knees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—This is why he has shunned us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Say no word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Canzler about this or to the girl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never will she be happy any more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will leave now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Contemplating the knee-prints.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i19">Under Val-father's trees!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler has been a father to the boy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph comes toward the road, then turns and looks back</i> +<i>at the Christ.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So Balder looked lying on Valhal floor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the men hear this, they will vote to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—He must go quietly and no word be said.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They walk together along the road.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—The way he goes, the Saxon race has gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—We must go to the mountains, not the grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler has been a father to the boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—He may return and bring the Saxon race.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Who will deliver him?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Val-father lives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—(<i>Bitterly.</i>) Lives with the dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— He may yet be reclaimed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The paths of Prophesy lead far away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the Powers of the air are bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guide it and their eyes are on its feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us not doubt Val-father's hand in this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That eye in Mimer's fountain sees through all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark, gnome-haunted caverns of the earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other under his calm brow watches heaven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes off through the forest.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—Under an old beech in the edge of the</i> +<i>forest. A knoll, like the toe of a large boot shoved in</i> +<i>from the rear, butts squarely against the trunk. Up under</i> +<i>the boughs, left, lies a decaying log with here and there</i> +<i>a tuft of rank grass growing from the cores of old knots.</i> +<i>Beside it is a small basket filled with berries. At the</i> +<i>foot of the beech, bubbles a spring partly walled in with</i> +<i>dark mossy rocks, on top of which lies a brown gourd</i> +<i>dipper. Two worn foot-paths, one winding up the slope</i> +<i>into the forest, the other entering from the left, meet at</i> +<i>the spring. The ground is checkered with flakes of sunlight</i> +<i>that fall through the leaves, and over all is the silence</i> +<i>of the summer noon.</i></p> + +<p><i>A crackle is heard as of a dry twig breaking under foot.</i> +<i>The branches on the left swing apart and Selma pushes</i> +<i>through backwards. She is a fairy-like creature dressed</i> +<i>in green. Her hair falls loose about her shoulders and</i> +<i>upon her head she wears a coronet of wild-flowers. Holding</i> +<i>the boughs slightly apart, she stands peering intently</i> +<i>to the left, then, turning quickly, she snatches up the basket</i> +<i>and hides it behind the log, and after picking a few green</i> +<i>burrs from the branches above her, darts to the right and</i> +<i>conceals herself behind the trunk. For a time she stands</i> +<i>motionless. Then, as if upon second thought, she stoops</i> +<i>and removes the dipper from the rocks.</i></p> + +<p><i>Along the foot-path, leading in from the left, Oswald enters.</i> +<i>He stops and looks back and for a time stands thus, as one</i> +<i>undecided, a forlorn expression upon his face. He then</i> +<i>turns and proceeds to the spring. Not finding the dipper,</i> +<i>he lays aside his staff and hat, and stretches himself</i> +<i>out upon the flat stone at the entrance of the spring.</i> +<i>While he is drinking, Selma leans cautiously from behind</i> +<i>the trunk and raises her arm as if to drop something.</i> +<i>Having evidently seen her shadow in the water, Oswald</i> +<i>glances up, but seeing no one, lies down again and drinks.</i> +<i>From behind the hole Selma tosses a burr into the spring.</i> +<i>Oswald continues to drink. Finally he rises, and, taking</i> +<i>up his hat and staff, goes up the slope and sits down upon</i> +<i>the log. The girl moves stealthily around the trunk.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Selma. <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">Selma. I saw you in the spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I'm there yet, then; you didn't take me out.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She comes round the side of the trunk opposite the log and,</i> +<i>stooping over, looks down into the spring.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O you should see the fishes! two, three, four,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A troop of them! O Oswald, come and see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They're round a splash of sunlight in the spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how they twinkle and in the current stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their little crimson fins. Ah, I've scared them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I really did; I scared them with my hair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how it fell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She points to a mass of hair that has fallen past her cheek.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">It would not hurt them, though.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must be still; we must not say a word.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never will play if they see us looking.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Oswald points down into the spring.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That little green thing? That's a beech-nut burr.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I threw it in to scare the water-sprite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That looked up at you when you stooped to drink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You did not see her? Oh, I did. I peeped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like this, softly, over, over the edge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw her peeping from the mossy stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the spring. Her hair was loose like mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brown as buckeyes, and her lips were stained<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With juice of berries. Then I raised my hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinks I: "I'll drop a beech-nut on his head."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she raised hers as if to say: "Be still!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll make the bubbles break against his nose."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was that what made you jump? You scared her so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw her hair fly up about her face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I leaped back. She lives down in the spring.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +<span class="i0">This morning as I passed I stooped and said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I'm going after berries; won't you come?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She beckoned to me, too, and seemed to say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I can't leave home; my little fish will stray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You come down here; I have some pretty shells."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, look! Be still! She's let them come again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See them flash.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It's the green shell they're after.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—Why, there's no kernel in it. If there were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They could not eat it; it would break their gills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are so very thin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— We all do that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We follow shells sometimes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— O Oswald, look!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how the little silver bubbles rise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—And we are like the fishes—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Oh, do look!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are not thinking of the fishes. See!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They follow it through the dimples round and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paddling the current with their little fins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And poising. They're afraid. They're drawing back.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, by the green stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— They are safer there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than in the current.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— See, there's one that still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nips at it in the eddies. See its scales.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot carve like that. Look out! Oh, oh!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She runs down to the outlet of the spring by which the</i> +<i>minnow has passed out, and walks up and down, stooping</i> +<i>occasionally to feel among the stones of the rill.</i> +<i>Oswald goes back and sits down upon the log. After</i> +<i>a while Selma rises and looks toward the spring. The</i> +<i>trunk is between her and Oswald.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twill grieve her so.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In a low chant, abstractedly.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">She's sleeping in the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the dark rock where the white sand pours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moss is softer in the forest there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there the wood-doves coo.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's going away; they told me yesterday.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forest heard them moan: He will not come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chestnut burr shall break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild bird, feeding, shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unpicked the purple hartcrops to the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hushed forest only hear the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of antlers knocking where the wild deer rubs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's going away—away—away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Staring vacantly into the forest, her back to Oswald, she</i> +<i>unconsciously picks the green burrs from the branches</i> +<i>above her.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Selma. <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i17">Come here; will you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— I'm gathering mast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fawns, they like it so. It makes them sleek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I want to tell you something.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Tell me here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I had listened to the forest birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd have no berries. And my fawns must eat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—'Tis something serious.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Ah, you've been to town.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As she saunters toward the log she reaches up in the air.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gossamers, where do they come from, Oswald?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never are gay when you've heard the bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are going to the mountains, <i>may</i> be. Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will not hear them. Are there berries there?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rudolph said he saw flowers in the ice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of that. Blue-bells.—You are like my crow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She takes a berry from her basket and holds it up between</i> +<i>her fingers.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If you will talk, you may.—I must go home.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She pulls down a bough and begins to pick the leaves off,</i> +<i>one by one.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I want you to go with me to the bridge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I can't. I must go home. Father will think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been captured by the villagers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She removes her basket from the sun and lays the leaves</i> +<i>upon her berries.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said: "You will not find them." But I did.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Sit down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— I can't.—It makes my berries red.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father will say: "You see? They are not ripe."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She goes about under the boughs selecting the largest of</i> +<i>the leaves.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It makes them black, then makes them red again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After a pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>I</i> heard bells ring last night. I dreamed I did.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I called and they called and you would not come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought you could not hear me where you were.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—In a great forest once two children lived.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They used to wander about the wood. One day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Playing among the trees, suddenly they heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Small voices calling: "Ho, children!" At that—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—Fairies. <span class="directline">(<i>She comes to the log.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— The children rose wide-eyed and let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fall the wild-flowers they had gathered and stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listening. Again the cry: "Ho, children!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma sits down.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i54">Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, hand in hand, slowly, and half afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moved forward, and the voices, as they moved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moved onward, sometimes above them in the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing, and sometimes in the fernshaws: "Ho,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here we are!" And then a wisp of sun-bright hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flashed in the deeper shadows of the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The children, shouting, "Catch her! There she goes!"<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Darted in glee from trunk to trunk. At last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voices died away. The children saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great trees glooming round them—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Oh, I know!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cried themselves to sleep, for they were lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the birds brought leaves and—Didn't they?<br /></span> +<span class="i52">No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—As night came on, the elder of them, a boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering to have heard a holy man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak of a house—a holy house—where men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live as the angels live—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Went there?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— To pray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pray for help.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— For the other child?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— For her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—What did the fairies do?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— But ere he went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carved with his knife upon a tree a sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A good man in the wood had taught him, a charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the spirit of the forest. Then he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told her strange words to say and leaving her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kneeling upon the moss, her little hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folded, he went away. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i23">Not for himself.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—And did he not come back? Tell me the rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Come with me to the bridge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Did he come back?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I have carved a charm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— A charm?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— For you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— For me?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where are you going, Oswald?—(<i>A pause.</i>) See my hair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should it scare the fishes? You are wise;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Why should it, Oswald? It is soft as hers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the spring, and if you'll come and look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll see the smallest minnows twinkle there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They do not fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It is a snare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Naively.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i44">Is it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not harm them, Oswald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Father Paul says<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the snare of Satan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— I know him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not my hair he uses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With horror.</i>) Know Satan! <span class="directline">(<i>He turns away.</i>)<br /></span></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I did not know his name was—Ah, you run!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are just like the fishes. Come and play.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not let it fall. <span class="directline">(<i>Throwing back her hair.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">I will just peep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the edge.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Going up the slope to where the boughs hang low, she</i> +<i>begins to gather the green burrs. While she gathers</i> +<i>them, she sings:</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>Hark, shepherd, hark; the forest calls</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Away to the greenwood still.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>We'll leave the dewy wether-bell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>To tinkle on the hill.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>Our ewes shall nibble gowan;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>We'll gipsy in the wood;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Our bed shall be the wild plush moss;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Our cruse shall be the flood.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>The lush blue whortle-berries</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>We'll gather eve and morn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>And we'll wander where the brocket</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Rubs the velvet from his horn.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i14"><i>Come, shepherd, come</i>—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will not sing; the shepherd will not come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll go and call the forest children. <span class="directline">(<i>She takes up her basket.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Selma.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—Night-bird hooting at noon!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Listen to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I'll listen to the jay; he's merrier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—You are not of the witches that at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly through the air to that far windy crag<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beetles o'er the foam of the wild sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, with orgies lewd to the black goat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whirl in the revel with dark Barrabam?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—There is no fairy with a name like that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—He is the prince of fairies and of fiends.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father Paul says that oft on stormy nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When stars scarce venture to the brink of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witches go down the sky scattering fogs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diseases, blights, and death, and with them go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those whom their cursed arts have wrought upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To taste the air of Hell. Far in the West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every quarter of the earth and sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from those awful rivers, they assemble<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hold their sabbaths on a windy cliff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A headland hanging over the edge of the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About whose base an ocean bellows so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nothing dares approach save frenzied things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, while the moon protrudes an awful horn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off at sea and rocks among the waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They curse God's watchful planets from the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lead their converts, dizzy with the brew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trample on the blood of Christ and swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve the arch-demon who is known to them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Barrabam. A while ago you said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You did not know his name as Satan. Selma,—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—You said he used my hair, but 'tis not mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other day I saw him in the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snaring the silver chubs. Said he: "My lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll give two shiners for a lock of hair."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To snare the fishes with! You horrid man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not give it." And I ran away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not my hair he uses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Aside.</i>) What a child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walking in darkness to the Tempter's snare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I would die for you!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— You run away. <span class="directline">(<i>He looks at her.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot guess what I found in the wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—You do not know what danger you are in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I know the ground-bird lays five speckled eggs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That filberts wear green hoods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Oh, what of that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What will that profit in the Judgment Day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have not been baptized. You do not hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The terrible, terrible, groanings of the lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O God, you do not know, you do not know!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I know the wood-pink is the first to wake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the flowers. I know where king-cups grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wink-a-peeps that sleep when days are dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know when shadows lie beneath the boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they do now, I know you'll never find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A squirrel or chipmunk out in all the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then the forest sleeps. And I know where—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—O Selma, listen to me just this once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then forever listen to the years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give back the echo of this golden hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you remember that day in the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we were gathering may-apples? You ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouting: "Here is a large one," and you stooped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pick it, when a snake coiled round the stalk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hissed at you and you started back in fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had it not hissed you never would have known<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That it was there, so green it was, so like<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stalk it coiled about. You saw that one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because it hissed. But one that hisses not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is coiled about the world, as like the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As was the green one to the may-flower stalk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I have heard father speak of it. He says<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it is full of bones.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— And souls of men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only in holy houses are we safe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—He said that I should not go near the village<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gathering berries.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— 'Tis the serpent Sin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, how its sting has marred the perfect world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ready to spring, the fiends couch for us. We<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are hunted, Father Paul says, through the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As was the deer the good saint saved, Saint Giles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men are fleeing from the wrath to come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—It cannot come up on the mountain tops.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Fervently.</i>) Call on the Virgin. Yield to Lord Jesus.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not reject him. Be baptized. Be saved.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you not see that I would die for you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Selma, playmate, loved one, promise me—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I will not eat May-apples any more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Oh, not to understand and yet be lost!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks away.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I will not eat them, Oswald. I will not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go near them if you do not wish me to.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Some day you will know why.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(<i>He takes up his staff.</i>) Then you will know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not for myself. You will know why.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stops near the spring.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You will remember this—this day—these leaves—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden sunlight on the waters there—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thoughtfully, looking down into the spring.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And never will come back forevermore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">SELMA</span>—Oh, yes it will. They will not let her grieve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairies, when they trip the wood to-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will miss her, for she dances with them there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, you should see them, Oswald. When they dance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is no bigger than the fairies are.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see them swing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, 'tis a sight to make the wood-dove gay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Circling round in a dance.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>Lightly whirling round and round</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Through the forest, scarcely shaking</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Flower stalk upon the ground.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>In the leaves the violets waking</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Scatter perfume. Fairies, bow;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Lift their purple hoods and kiss them.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Join the dance and leave them now.</i> <span class="directline">(<i>Ecstatically.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One night up in the wood, when silver flakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were dancing with the fairies on the moss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An owl whooped. The fairies scampered off<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the ferns. The little water elf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found up close against a gnarled oak trunk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hid in a moss-pink in a drop of dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, she was tiny as a fairykin!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair was scattered, she was frightened so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You should have seen her how she looked at me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if to say: "You here!" I nod, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We laugh together, thinking of the trick<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The surly owl played. <span class="directline">(<i>Again she circles round in a dance.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>With horror.</i>) This is enchantment!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the cursed spells of forest devils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witchcraft and Barrabam, the broth of Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild mountain and the swirling sea!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Advancing toward her, he reaches into his bosom and</i> +<i>fetches forth a large silver crucifix fastened to a black</i> +<i>string that encircles his neck.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Selma, touch this, touch this and say with me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pater noster</i>—" come—"<i>qui es in coelis</i>—"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Still dancing.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I don't know what it means.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— "<i>Pater</i>—". Repeat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I say I do not know—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It does not matter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—Then tell me what it means.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— You must not ask.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You show more faith not knowing. "<i>Pater</i>—" Come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pater noster</i>—" <span class="directline">(<i>Reaching toward her.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">Will you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>Snatching up her basket.</i>) What does it mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Bowing his head.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I do not know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— You are just teasing me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Selma, listen to me. If our dear Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who died upon the tree that we might live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had meant that we should know what this thing means,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would have told us. Let us show our faith.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let us say it as He taught us. Come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repeat it with me. "<i>Pater</i>—" <span class="directline">(<i>Advancing toward her.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i36">Will you say it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>Skipping up the slope and disappearing through</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the boughs.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not till you tell me what it means.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Oswald stands as one who knows not what to do. Along</i> +<i>the path leading in from the left, Father Paul, the friar,</i> +<i>enters. For a time he stands contemplating the scene</i> +<i>before him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Paul</span>—My son. Come now. Come now. The Lord Christ calls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delay is death. Give up this heathen world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot save her here. But there, who knows?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Prayer can do much. Go now and get the cross.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall wait for you in the grotto here. <span class="directline">(<i>They go out, right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—In the depths of the forest. Back</i> +<i>through the trees, to the right, is seen the home of Canzler,</i> +<i>a small cottage built of logs, with antlers over the doorway.</i> +<i>It sits in a space partially cleared, and the light</i> +<i>falls golden about it. Among the trees in the foreground,</i> +<i>where the shadows are thicker, is the stump of a large</i> +<i>oak and a newly fallen trunk extending out left. Over</i> +<i>to the right, at the foot of one of the trees, lies a small</i> +<i>bundle fastened to the end of a stick. At intervals a bird</i> +<i>is heard singing in the forest.</i></p> + +<p><i>Near the stump several men are gathered. Canzler,</i> +<i>facing right, stands beside the log with his hand resting</i> +<i>upon his ax. He is bareheaded. His sleeves are rolled up</i> +<i>above his elbows and his shirt, open in front, discloses</i> +<i>his broad, hairy breast. Near the stump stands Hartzel, a</i> +<i>man apparently seventy years of age. He wears a long,</i> +<i>white beard and his hands are folded on top of a tall</i> +<i>rustic staff. The others are Fritz and Rudolph and Wiglaf,</i> +<i>the gleeman, in a fantastic garb faded and tattered. On</i> +<i>the other side of the log, to the right of Canzler, is Max,</i> +<i>another woodman, also in his shirt sleeves.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Why did they burn my harp, then? I'm a man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Leaning forward and speaking in a loud voice in Hartzel's ear.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hear what Wiglaf says? Says he's a man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why did they burn his harp, then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— No, Hartzel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not enough with them that we are men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must be Christians.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— That's it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— We must pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prayers the priests pray. We must go to church,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chant when they chant and what they chant and be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clay, as it were, upon their potter's-wheel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not enough the great All-father wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Us in his image; not enough to live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The honest life of man. We must submit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be remolded to whatever shape<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The potter-priest may give us. So we bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His stamp and pray his prayers and wear the name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Christian—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Then you can steal or—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— No, Hartzel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mass counts with them much more than manhood does.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Canzler's just right. Who ever heard of them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Injuring a man because his life was bad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If his Faith was good?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hartzel puts his hand to his ear and looks at Fritz.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Who ever heard of them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Injuring a man because his life was bad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If his Faith was good? <span class="directline">(<i>Wiglaf listens to the bird.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— I don't doubt that some would. <span class="directline">(<i>Canzler touches him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—The birds are free to sing Val-father's songs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wiglaf must sing the songs men bid him sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or have his tongue pulled out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Speaking of Faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can a good man have a bad Faith? Isn't<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life his Faith?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— Life his faith? Just so; but—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But circumstances, Canzler. If we knew—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—He thinks I've been a scoundrel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— I don't say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I don't say that, for I don't know.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— Don't know!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Back through the trees to the left, Selma is seen going</i> +<i>toward the cottage.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting in Hartzel's ear.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">He says you think he's been a scoundrel? Think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's why they tried to kill him?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—(<i>In amazement.</i>) Why—why—no:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not hear, Wiglaf; your back was turned.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Holding up her basket.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I found them, Father. See? I said I would.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—That island, Canzler, where they say our race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rebuilt its kingdom, who knows aught of it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—No word has reached us from that far off land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—It used to live in gleemen's songs, but now—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Old men recall it as a forgotten thing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma enters the cottage.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—In what sea lies it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Where the Frankish land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks toward the setting Balder, I have heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—And does this river off here empty near it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—First flowing through wide forests and high rocks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Wiglaf walks to and fro thoughtfully.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—I don't doubt you've been wronged, Wiglaf. I don't<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubt that they're arming. What I do say is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows it is against us?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— Wait and see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—It may be they are mustering a host<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take the East again. Nigh forty years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ago now, Frederic Red-beard—Canzler here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembers; he was young then—mustered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nigh on to four score thousand, Canzler?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— About.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—And they were not against us.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Taking up the bundle and starting right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i57">Farewell, all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Where are you going, Wiglaf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— There's no place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all this land for Wiglaf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Don't say that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While that roof stands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— It won't stand long, Canzler.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Clenching his hands.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill stand till he won't need it any more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Wild deer shall listen and no foot be heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Have you forgotten your inspired word?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—But centuries may pass ere that child comes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma comes from the cottage and begins to gather dry</i> +<i>leaves and chips about the doorway. She is singing to</i> +<i>herself and her voice comes faintly through the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Or in these hard days have you, too, lost faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Woden?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Wiglaf lose faith in Woden!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O chief!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking down.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">What shall Wiglaf say? Shall the skald,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose eye sees through the darkness, see no light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the winter see no spring, beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm, no calm? <span class="directline">(<i>He starts away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Stay here with us, Wiglaf. <span class="directline">(<i>Selma enters the cottage.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Lose faith in Woden when the north wind blows?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think the trunk dead because the boughs are bare?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the bloom live forever, and the seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not swell and break its pod and find the earth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father sows and reaps and sows again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our race has come to harvest, and the hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of southern reapers have laid low the tribes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound them in sheaves and stacked them far away<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And threshed them out on many a bloody field.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—And the war-maidens have gleaned heroes there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Gleaned them and sown them in the earth again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The years fall white upon the silent tribes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father's winter locks them in the ground.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking up at the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But O, O chief, these, too, were once down there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz bows his head and walks back among the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From a pent-up heart.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Shall it, Wiglaf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— The bare North shall be green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Be red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Wiglaf!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— The young leaves come out red.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who puts his ear against a door<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He gets down and puts his ear to the earth.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hears within a noise of armed men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the washing of Val-father's waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rushing from Naastrand where their bodies lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piled on the dark shore where the ships come not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Bringing them back.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—(<i>Rising.</i>) With shock of arms, O chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breaking of the bark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Then comes the leaf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Red from the breaking of—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— It shall be green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Bragi is singing the white years away. <span class="directline">(<i>He goes out right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—We may be few, Wiglaf, but—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— Stay with us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—He beckons from that island in the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wiglaf must go where Bragi calls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Oh, say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hail," to that kindred land!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He drops his ax against the log.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">From us say "Hail!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Stepping past the stump.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, if you find them holding up the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell them, Wiglaf, to keep iron hearts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say that the ancient trunk of Wittikind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows a green sprout! Say all the North is green!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Go with us to the mountains!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Stay and die!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Or say—say, Wiglaf, say—it shall be green!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Smoke is seen curling above the roof of the cottage.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—I did not say he was a scoundrel. Eh? <span class="directline">(<i>To Rudolph.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Did I? Did I, Max? <span class="directline">(<i>Calling to Canzler.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i43">Where is he going?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I don't doubt he's been wronged; I don't doubt that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where's he—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz comes forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span> (<i>To Max.</i>)—We must leave here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We must stay here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In Hartzel's ear.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He says we, too, must leave here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— Leave? What for?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What have we done?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— But I say stay and die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them thresh us out, too. (<i>To Max.</i>) What do you say?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—What do you say, Max?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— I say stay and live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot kill us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— How so?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— If they do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They must kill Oswald, too. Then where's the child?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where then's Val-father's promised child?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Max—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Returning to the stump.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The question, Hartzel, is not what they've done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's what they think they have a right to do.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They own, they think, our bodies and our brains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no thing or thought or word or deed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can take its way, but must report to them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And square itself and do a bondman's work.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have a right, they think, to chop the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lop off her great green boughs and graft instead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The South's pale branches.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— To bear bastard fruit.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—The oak's red blood must nourish olive leaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They would remake the world Val-father made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take the seasons from his great right hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must be like them or be not at all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like them in manhood, Hartzel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— No; in Faith.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even their gods know not the Saxon tongue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—If a man speak Val-father's name, he dies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>—And we must die if we be not baptized.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Must even ask of them what we may eat!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Why is it not enough to be a man?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do a man's work and to live a life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free like the wild deer, and to grow like these?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He looks about upon the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You, Hartzel, have lived longer than we have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you have seen more seasons, and you know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In father Woden's forests how the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow as they will, acknowledging no lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But him who made them to be lordless, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obeying no law save that law that bids<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each be itself and bring forth its own fruit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the populous forests of this world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no tyrant tree that lifts its head<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Above the rest and says, "Obey my law."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For each tree hath its own law in itself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no tree hears another, but each hears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of father Woden in the loam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laying the law of selfhood on each seed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seed bursts and the law starts toward the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The acorn lays it softly on the oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chestnut on the chestnut, and the pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the loftiest mountain hears its cone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering with father Woden in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learning the law it taketh to the ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus by that law that each tree be itself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This forest hath become a stalwart state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nation governed by one law, a vast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green kingdom of ten thousand happy trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With father Woden monarch in the boughs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The law of selfhood is the law of trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who says the law of sameness governs man?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because the South has not the girth of trunk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bear Val-father's weight upon its boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must he climb down from ours and let the South<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climb up and with its law bind leaf and limb?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did he, who made these oaks to grow and spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their branches, make our branching minds to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pinched to a point and put inside a ring?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—But they say that they got that ring from some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God that once came down—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— From their southern skies?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who gave the southern cypress mouth to speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father's law unto the northern pine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, do you say, come down to bind men? <i>God?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">A <i>God</i> that <i>binds?</i> <span class="directline">(<i>Looking up at the trees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i33">I see no ring on these.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Loki is a smith. He made their ring.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Where in our northern sagas will you find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A track of any shackle-bearing god?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the past has any such a god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come down the northern sky? All round the walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Midgard stand the Asas guarding man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against whatever brings bonds.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma comes from the cottage with a bucket.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Sons of Lok.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—The southern gods may bring down shackles, but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The northern hammer breaks the shackles off.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From back among the trees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'm going after water, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—And one shall come to take that hammer up.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>—The Asas walk the walls of Midgard still.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma goes out left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph </span>—Val-father made the mountain rocks to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bastions of the oppressed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— He made the grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He sits down on the log and takes his head between his</i> +<i>hands.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—"In him shall be the strength of all your dead."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, Hartzel; as Fritz says, their ring was wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far in the south at that old fire that burns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal mid the hills. Of old they forged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Law for our fathers, and, with iron hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welded it on them. For five hundred years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noise of that old furnace filled the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her red mouth link on link her hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew one continuous shackle, and the North<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walked heavily, until Val-father's spear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flashed southward. Then the noise stopped. The great beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wore for head and neck those seven hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roused her and saw her whelps come bleeding back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard wild Tyr holloing the tribes for dogs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round her on every side, and rose at bay<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And clawed through bloody foam and ceased and saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hills go round and round and with a crash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretched her vast skeleton over all the south.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—Then she is dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Rome dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— If she is bones.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—-Bones, Hartzel, are not dead. The life returns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ghastly thing moves in the silent night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When swords are sleeping and the ear hears not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old hands scratch round old battle-fields and there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The skulls that wore the helmet don the hood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the morning breaks no man will say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The thing that stands there is the thing that fell."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our father found it so. For after that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great hunt down in the south, the tribes lay down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slept and woke and saw—they knew not what.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It wore a sword, but had no hauberk on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas robed in black and on each shoulder sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What seemed an eagle in a vulture's plumes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, too, thought bones were dead, and seeing no<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark of their swords upon it nor anywhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The indenture of those old hills in the south,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They showed it all the paths among the tribes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Welcomed it to their homes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— And took its ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—And then lay down and slept and never woke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—If Rome is dead, whence all these harried lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wigmodia and the Phalias, East and West?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—There, even to this day, the clay is red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—If Rome is dead, what is this thing that now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On hands and knees creeps on us toward the north<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathering flesh for its bones as it comes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—Most of them have gone over to their Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Most of them? Most of them lie, as Wiglaf says,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piled on the dark shore where the ships come not.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Between the ring and sword they chose the sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—What is this thing that says, "Accept this Faith,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the same thing that to our fathers said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Accept this Law"? It is the same old Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snake hath cast her skin but not her fangs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witness the rivers red. Witness the charred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Track of the dragon and these silent lands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has she not gathered flesh? Has she not clothed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her limbs and filled her bowels with the North?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climb to the clouds and call the Saxon race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who will answer? Silence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And the streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moaning and hurrying red waves to the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—There is a day that would but cannot die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That day—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max and Rudolph</span>—At Verden.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— When our fathers died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unarmed, defenceless, butchered, Hartzel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, that day hides her face among the years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cannot hide her hand. Val-father has— <span class="directline">(<i>Closing his fingers.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Her wrist in his grasp and holds that hand aloft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drip and rouse the North, and it shall drip<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Ragnarok shall swallow it up at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vomit it out to bleed forevermore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four thousand and five hundred in one day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till set of sun, all day the axes swang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when night fell the Aller's waters slipped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thick through the headless bodies in her bed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, for once more a day like Dachtelfeld! <span class="directline">(<i>He turns away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Val-father's spear shall flash again, Canzler.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shall a horn wind that shall rouse the tribes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strew those bones again.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Let's wind it now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span> (<i>To Canzler.</i>)—Do you think we should leave here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— No.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Wittikind shall come and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— They shall hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The North's great hammer ringing round the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Max, you tell Conrad that we meet to-night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have Herman come. <span class="directline">(<i>Max goes out left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i19">And, Rudolph, you go down—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Touching, him with his staff</i>.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler, you said just now the point was not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What they have done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Nor is it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— Then why this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summoning of the men? Are we to have war?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz and Rudolph, talking together, walk back among the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Hartzel, the past and present are two limbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On one tree. Though the one bears withered leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these on this around us here are green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trunk is the same; the sap is the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The new fruit is the old fruit. What to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is Wiglaf fleeing to the ocean isles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the whole Saxon race? What is his harp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ashes but our homes and all this land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are those graves yonder old? Were these, our scars, <span class="directline">(<i>Opening his bosom.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Handed down from our fathers? When we start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alarmed in the night, is it the past we fear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no past to things that have been dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a scabbard empty of its sword.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall we do? Accept their Faith?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— No, no.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Without it, we must steal the air we breath<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And thank Val-father if we get it then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their blades are out; shall we not lift our shields?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wolves are we? Wolves are not hunted so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bears have the caves; must our cave be the grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no room there. How then can we die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After his great meal, Death hath lain him down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Famine, the gleaner, has the field. There is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No plot unreaped, no sheaf unflailed. The barns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are stuffed to breaking with the dead. And we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this great carnage, in this harvest-home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last few straws whisked from the threshing-floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunted by that old Hunger of the south<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From field to wood, from wood to darker wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far up strange rivers and—down under them—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hartzel, remember; when we fall, there goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the whole North. We alone stand. Of all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father's oaks, there's but one acorn left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That can re-forest and make green the North.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rudolph and you and I and the rest, save one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are, as it were, its protecting shell. Off there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sword is coming toward us, and shall we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hands down take the point and hear the unborn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wail of that child that should have filled the north<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shouts and wound his horn upon its hills?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind him, in array, the dead tribes come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fire for the south; their umbered shields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the gunwales lour; and shall the snake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swallow the haven where that host must land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the North die? Never. <span class="directline">(<i>He turns as if to call Rudolph.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—Accept their Faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We need not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Die?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—We need not. (<i>A pause.</i>) We might flee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— (<i>Emphatically.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler will never vote to flee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Hear that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler will never vote to flee. <span class="directline">(<i>Coming forward.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i36">Nor Fritz, chief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Where could we flee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We have already fled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—No.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hartzel turns and, with his face to the ground, walks slowly</i> +<i>left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Canzler, listen to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Unnoticed, Conrad appears coming through the trees on the</i> +<i>right. Several young squirrels hang from the belt about</i> +<i>his waist and in his right hand is a cross-bow. Upon</i> +<i>his left shoulder he carries the crucifix which he has</i> +<i>pulled up, post and all.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— The red ax<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They swung at Verden swings clear round the North<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her great head falls.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a jolt Conrad sets the crucifix down and leans it</i> +<i>against one of the large trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i42">Where did that come from?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Over on the road; by the bridge.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler goes toward it. Fritz quickly says something to</i> +<i>Rudolph. The latter walks lack in the rear.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>As if to draw him away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i52">Canzler, here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—There was a sheep's pelt lying in the bank—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a motion.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down here where we could kneel to it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Coming back.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i42">What is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—It is the Christians' Irminsul. They chop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours down to put theirs up.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Canzler.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— The men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That followed Wiglaf must have put it up.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—They're closing round us, Canzler, every day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you say stay and fight through, for my part—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Suddenly Canzler turns and looks Conrad full in the face.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know I did, but if the rest say stay—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After looking tip at the crucifix again, Canzler turns slowly</i> +<i>and walks away left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is the matter?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>When near the stump, Canzler again glances back; then</i> +<i>drops his head and walks on among the trees. Conrad</i> +<i>turns to Fritz.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">What is the matter?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Apologetically, following him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler, I hope I have said nothing. I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not mean flee—in that sense. <span class="directline">(<i>Canzler goes out.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i41">I meant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes out. The men stand looking after them. Rudolph</i> +<i>comes forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—This will break Canzler's heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Pointing to the crucifix.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i57">Oswald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—We tried to keep it from him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Selma, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler must never tell her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— Where is he?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—No one has seen him since last night when Fritz—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—I saw him with the pelt—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Quickly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i45">Here comes Canzler.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The men assume an expression of unconcern.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Aloud.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever Canzler says. If he says stay—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler appears among the trees. He stops and looks off</i> +<i>through the forest to the right, and his brow darkens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And brought it out from town and put it up.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph lifts up the squirrels at Conrad's belt.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—There were not many in the woods to-day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Coming forward and giving his orders hastily.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Rudolph, you and Fritz go summon the men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go with them, Conrad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz glances off through the forest, right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— That we meet to-night?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—This afternoon. Be quick. <span class="directline">(<i>The men start back left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—(<i>Huskily.</i>) Oswald. (<i>Conrad glances right.</i>) Oswald.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph glances right, and the three go out in silence.</i> +<i>Canzler, who has stepped left, stands in the shadow of</i> +<i>one of the trees. A little later Oswald appears coming</i> +<i>through the trees to the right. He is looking about as</i> +<i>if in search of something.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Firmly, but without passion.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">There, there it is. Take it, take it and go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Downcast, stammering.</i>) I—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>) No word.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Oswald moves slowly to the tree, takes the crucifix upon his</i> +<i>shoulder, and, with bowed head, goes off right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>Calling from the left.</i>) Oswald!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The girl enters with her water. She stops, looks after Oswald</i> +<i>until he has disappeared, then turns with a questioning</i> +<i>look to her father.</i>) O father!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— As for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let a man be a man. Outside of that,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no power on earth that dares ask more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No power in heaven that will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He turns and goes back toward the cottage.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>With a sigh, looking right.</i>) Oswald, Oswald.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_TWO" id="ACT_TWO">ACT TWO.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—A forest on the mountain tops, the great</i> +<i>trees glooming with the shadows of nightfall. In the</i> +<i>distance, between the dark boles, patches of sky with the</i> +<i>fading light of evening. The scene slopes down into</i> +<i>a clump of tangle-wood on the left. Up the slope, upon</i> +<i>a stump that stands out from among the trees, Selma is</i> +<i>sitting with her head bowed, her face almost hidden by her</i> +<i>hair which has fallen forward across her shoulders. She</i> +<i>is dressed in dappled fawn-skin. In her hand she has a</i> +<i>spray of dog-wood blossoms from which she is thoughtlessly</i> +<i>tearing the leaves. From the thicket below, three</i> +<i>fairies steal in one after another, having in their hands</i> +<i>wild-flowers and ferns.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—Early spring, three years later.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Running a little way up the slope and stopping.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Sister, see! (<i>Holding forth her flowers.</i>) Kingcups!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—(<i>Running closer.</i>) Sister, see, I bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laced fern.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>—(<i>Running still closer.</i>) See, see! Violets, sister!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found them waking in an open place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the dew falls. <span class="directline">(<i>Together they approach the stump.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—(<i>Softly.</i>) Sister!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— Flowers, sister.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The first stoops down and looks up into Selma's face. The</i> +<i>others whisper together. From the thicket below, two</i> +<i>other fairies enter.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>—(<i>Stopping.</i>) Hark, how it tinkles!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—It's the dew falling. <span class="directline">(<i>They hurry up the slope.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—(<i>Rising quickly.</i>) Her eyes are wet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second and Third</span>—(<i>To fourth and fifth.</i>) Her eyes are wet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>— Sister,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anemones are opening in the wind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—And every pink is jeweled in the fells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—And here are buttercups.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— And violets.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Stooping.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">See, sister, here I bring the first frilled fern.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found it where the dashing water-fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprayed it. It was uncurling near a rock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Without looking up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I do not like you, for you will not tell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The fairies start and exchange glances.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—Oh, see the dew-globes break upon the moss!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She runs back a little way among the trees. The others</i> +<i>follow her and they talk among themselves.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—Where is he now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— He is making his way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his cold dark cell in the cold dark house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the lizards dart and the crickets call.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—I heard the grind of his wooden shoe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the mountain road; but she must not know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>—We stood in the pines and we saw him pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thin white shadow she would not know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—And, sisters, he turned his face to the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we heard him sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>— And we heard him sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>—It must be, it must be, for he cannot see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—He cannot see till he sees no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>As before.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You said he would come when the dog-wood bloomed.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—Oh, see them!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— See the fairies!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They all look up the slope.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>— Round they go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their ringlets whirling, whirling.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>—At every sparkle racing through the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From crottle, kingcup, and green maiden-hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dainty gowpens fetch the dewy globes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slide them down the sagging gossamers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To light them in the dance.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They glance toward the stump. Seeing that they have not</i> +<i>succeeded in attracting Selma's attention, they take</i> +<i>hands and circle toward her singing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Hark the bracken rustle, sister.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Other elves are awaking, peeping,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>While the cowslip buds are weeping</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>On the downs and in the dells.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Trip it softly, softly, sister,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Lest the stock-dove, lightly sleeping,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Wake and hear our fairy bells.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After circling round the stump and seeking in every way</i> +<i>to induce her to join them, one of them tries gently to</i> +<i>take the spray of dog-wood blossoms from her hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>Calling aloud.</i>) Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—Oh, smell the wood pinks! They are waking now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—The bees are stirring in the gum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— O sisters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know a brake where the brown quails sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's tip the leaves and let the star-light on them.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Four of them run up the slope one after another and each</i> +<i>in turn as she disappears among the trees glances back</i> +<i>and calls to Selma.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—Sister!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>— Sister!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— Sister!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>— Sister!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The fifth fairy stands for a time looking after the others,</i> +<i>then comes to the stump and sits down at Selma's</i> +<i>feet.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>— Sister,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you will come and play, I'll show you slim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young heath-bells in the dingle. Won't you, if<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We take you where may-apples grow and pinks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bend with their fairy mirrors on the moss?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— (<i>From the thicket below.</i>) O sister!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The fairy starts up and skips down the slope.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Without looking up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Three times it has bloomed and he does not come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sixth Fairy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Entering hurriedly from the thicket.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">We were floating along on the river mist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw them creep up the mountain side—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Seventh Fairy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Entering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And heard them plotting and heard them say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"We will throw him down, we will throw him down."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sixth Fairy</span>—We called in his ear, but he did not hear,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +<p>(<i>The seventh starts up the slope toward Selma.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—Oh, do not tell her! Oh, do not tell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Seventh Fairy</span>—They will throw him down! They will throw him down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—Oh, catch him with delicate hands as he falls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the mist and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sixth Fairy</span>— Save him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Seventh Fairy</span>— Save him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—And I will run to the mountain cave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The two fairies hasten out through the thicket, the fifth</i> +<i>disappears back among the trees, left. Singing is heard</i> +<i>up the slope. A moment later, a number of fairies circle</i> +<i>in with green boughs in their hands.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>On the downs and in the dells.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Trip it softly, softly, sister,</i><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Lest the stock-dove, lightly sleeping,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Wake and hear our fairy bells.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—Oh, something black tumbled into the mist!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—And something bright—what was it, sister?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—A star, I think; it glanced and fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>—Sister, it flashed like a silver cross.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>—And plopped into the brook. Did you see the ripples<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glitter in the moon?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>— O sisters, see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The will-o'-the-wisps rush down the valley fogs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their white veils trailing round the tall dark crags.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They hurry down the mountain. Selma, startled, gets off</i> +<i>the stump and runs a little way back in the wood and,</i> +<i>stopping, looks after them.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Up the slope.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Where are you, child? <span class="directline">(<i>He enters.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i23">Why do you stand out here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkness?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—They have gone away again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who waits till she comes near him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Do not ask anything to stay, my child.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the leaf goes the tree goes, and the rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow away with the waters to the sea. <span class="directline">(<i>They go up the slope together.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—He does not come and they will not tell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She stops and looks back.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Let us go home and watch the stars come out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the mountains where Val-father lives.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps the Norns will spin us a white thread.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go out, Selma looking back.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—A mountain cavern with jutting ledges of</i> +<i>rock. From the bones that lie about, one would imagine</i> +<i>it to be a den to which wild beasts drag and devour their</i> +<i>prey. To the right, a vine, growing out of the crevice in</i> +<i>the rear wall, shows by its leaves becoming a darker green</i> +<i>as it spreads to the right that the entrance is in that direction</i> +<i>and near by. Bowlders, evidently used for seats, lie</i> +<i>here and there, and in the rear, center, a smouldering</i> +<i>fire throws their shadows about the floor and walls. Several</i> +<i>willow baskets freshly woven hang on pegs driven</i> +<i>into seams in the rocks. To the left, an old spinning</i> +<i>wheel with a thread trailing from it, and near it, upon</i> +<i>the floor, a quantity of black wool. Farther over in the</i> +<i>corner, a couch of rushes and forest grass. From the</i> +<i>ledge that projects out over it hang bunches of dry herbs.</i> +<i>In the left wall, extending to the ceiling and barely wide</i> +<i>enough to admit of one's passing through, is a cleft whence</i> +<i>are heard at intervals the muffled sound of hammers far</i> +<i>down in the earth.</i></p> + +<p><i>To the right of the fire, Sigurd, the dwarf, is peeling osiers.</i> +<i>He is barefooted. About his neck he wears a string of</i> +<i>buckeyes. Beside him, upon the floor, lies a pile of white</i> +<i>osiers newly peeled. Occasionally he takes the withes in</i> +<i>his mouth and tears the bark off with his teeth. On the</i> +<i>other side of the fire, reclining upon his elbow, the gnome</i> +<i>Kilo is poking the coals with a stick.</i></p> + +<p><i>Despite the red glow of the fire, the cave is quite dark.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Love the monks, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—(<i>To the left.</i>) Kilo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— Granny says you do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—Kilo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Hush! I'm tired.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—Loki wants you. (<i>After a pause.</i>) Kilo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Call on; Kilo don't care. It's sweat and drudge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And puff and hammer the livelong day<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +<span class="i0">At the blazing forge, and then all night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The big black sledges swing and fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm tired. You love the bells?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— Kilo! You hear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumb, are you, elf-brat? You squealed loud enough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night that Granny found you on the moss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as a hail-stone, thunder-whelped, and cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Tweakle! tweakle!" Elf-cub, are you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— Kilo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Out of temper.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him I've gone with Granny.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From the left Zip enters. Under his arm he +carries a great sword, the blade of which he is +burnishing with a piece of sand-stone.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— Where is she?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Darkening the moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— Is to-night the time?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a look warning him of the presence of the dwarf.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Got the runes cut on it?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Zip hands the sword to Kilo and goes over and +stands near the vine. Kilo examines the +curiously wrought haft.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— Listen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Sitting up.</i>) What is it? (<i>They listen.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—The geese are out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—(<i>To the dwarf.</i>) Hear that, gozzard? Do you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Hark! Hissing, they go down the mountain side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flip-flap of their big grey wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(<i>He returns toward the fire.</i>) Last night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monks' new hunter wrung two ganders' necks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found their heads in the grotto.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—(<i>Poking the dwarf with the sword.</i>) Hear that, lob?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You herd the goslets for the holy men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next thing you'll grind the scauper for the monk,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And help him carve the cross. Granny'll get you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Where's Suk and Gimel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— Digging water-herbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the marsh. <span class="directline">(<i>He rises and the two walk left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i18">'Twas said to throw him off.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young imp shoots his ears out like a snail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel about for danger to the monks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he should hear the gnomes are out for blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd see him, he'd be footed like a hare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To put the monk on guard.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From the right, Zory enters. He crooks his back, screens</i> +<i>his eyes with his hand, and walks feebly.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— "O dear! my eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rosa, is the moon up, dear?" Ha, ha! Zory! Zory!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He takes up the sword from the floor, and using it as a</i> +<i>cane, walks unsteadily.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Steal into the abbey, will they?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— No, no.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's down in the village. At break of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the blur of his big black gown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mountain mists as he made his way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-night he will come from the little town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Suk and Gimel—the road runs by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where some wild vines dangle.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>As though jerking them.</i>) And far below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waters gurgle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— They will? Ho, ho!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Huskily, nodding toward the dwarf.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The spy of Woden.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>—(<i>Dropping his voice.</i>) If that's the plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the old dame with her gimlet eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees farther than Woden's ravens can.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At dusk I crept over behind the town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some boys were up on the mountain side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Running a cow they were driving down,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With puff-balls pelting her brindled hide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a slope of heather I knew a sink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a brown backed bunny was wont to squat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warm his fur in the sun and wink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the shadows darkening a cabbage plot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says I: "Now Zory will have some fun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll start the hare for the village boys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear them hollo and see them run."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With barking of dogs and a hue and a cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They will soon be off, and, flying the noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wat will go bobbing across the down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm off for the heather when lo, I hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind the sallows that fringe the foss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sneeze and a sigh and then, "O dear!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some women are trying to get across.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hide in the dock. The dames pass by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With baskets of bennet. I hear one say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"With our dear Lord hanging upon the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, such a beautiful, beautiful cross<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one ever saw, so the people say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who have peered in the window. And think, la me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In another day and another day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My every prayer will have been fulfilled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May the Virgin spare us." The other sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, scanning the shadowy mountain side:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I fear he will never complete it, Clotilde.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He climbs that dreadful mountain at night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can you see him now? Oh, I fear, I fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those awful rocks where the devils hide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems so dark. Rosa, is the moon up, dear?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the old dame as she—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Mimicing with the sword for a cane.</i>) daddled on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her skirt in her hand, through the dewy grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her little whisket of herbs on her arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep off the devils, and mumbling a mass<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And snuffling and moaning and sighing, "O dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's a wicked world."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>He laughs till he falls to the floor</i> +<i>where he continues to laugh. Kilo steals to the fire and</i> +<i>is about to snap a coal toward Zory when Suk rushes in</i> +<i>right.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—Granny! O Granny!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip and Kilo</span>—What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—Where's Granny?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— On the peaks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—(<i>Rushing left.</i>) Loki!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Stop him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—(<i>Dodging past Zip.</i>) Loki!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Stop him, Zory! (<i>As he darts by, Zory, still upon</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the floor, catches the gnome about the legs.</i>) What is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Over the cliff?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—(<i>Panting.</i>) Over and over. His black gown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind puffs it—like a big bat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swoops after him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>—Whew!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—(<i>Right.</i>) Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—(<i>Breaking away.</i>) Loki!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He rushes out left, followed by the three other gnomes.</i> +<i>From the right Gimel enters.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun's up, Granny! Hear the cock!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His morning trumpet wakes the village up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the good people in their Sunday clothes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A long procession up the mountain goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With boughs of cypress and boughs of yew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the big bell in the abbey tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T-o-l-l-s and it t-o-l-l-s and it t-o-l-l-s.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What makes the big bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sob in its tower? Can any one tell?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Why, the monk that pulls at the rope, I ween.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He follows the others through the narrow passage, left. A</i> +<i>moment later, from the opposite side, a fairy appears</i> +<i>and beckons to the dwarf. The latter, after a quick</i> +<i>glance to the left, stealthily takes up the sword from the</i> +<i>floor and follows the fairy from the cave.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—The monastery of St. Giles, in the mountains.</i> +<i>An open court, with buildings dimly seen in the</i> +<i>darkness. To the right, the dormitory, a large structure</i> +<i>built of stone, with high, deep-set windows protected by</i> +<i>heavy shutters which are closed. Across the court a high</i> +<i>wall, starting in front, extends back some fifteen feet and</i> +<i>abuts the side of the chapel before which in outline long</i> +<i>stone steps may be discerned. In the center of the wall</i> +<i>is an archway with a pair of ponderous iron gates. The</i> +<i>night is dark and windy.</i></p> + +<p><i>Along the side of the dormitory comes old Andrew</i> +<i>with a staff and lighted taper. He is singing in a low voice.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—<i>The barque o' the moon, like the Ithican's ship,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Heigho, she's swamped on the sea,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With her big bags of wind</i>—(<i>Turning the corner and meeting the wind.</i>) Hey!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, lads! Swell your bellies, sails! Now we're for't!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>His candle threatening to go out, he draws back. For a</i> +<i>while he stands as if perplexed. Then, rounding the</i> +<i>corner, he again turns his shoulder to the wind and,</i> +<i>shielding his taper thus, moves sidewise across the court</i> +<i>toward the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Puff, devils, puff, puff! Howl and snap! howl and snap!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll scare old Andrew, will you? By the saints,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll have this taper in the chapel sconce<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In spite of all your snarling.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He throws down his staff and shields his taper +with his gown.</i>) Blow! blow! blow!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's a monk's soul borne to the Virgin's arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across a strip of Hell. D'you want to leap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of this greasy world? Out with you, then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a fine night to jump in, wind and moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roar and the scud of swollen water-bags.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jump, jump, soul! Swounds, here's a coward for you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a tallow-swad that loves swine's belly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better'n the big deep. Shrift, eh? shrift and housel?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Primum confessum</i>, foul monk. Gluttony. <span class="directline">(<i>The taper flickers.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Yip! See the devils pluck at him! Quick, priest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">St. Giles will lose a lamb. If I damn one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I damn them all; damn the Abbot; damn Andrew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flesh is flesh. <i>Absolvo te. Secundum.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bibbing, eh? Vap or burgundy? Vap?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's a vile sin; but vap is hell enough.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Quid tertio?</i> <span class="directline">(<i>He puts his ear to the taper.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i17">St! lower; the Devil's listening. <span class="directline">(<i>Starting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Whee! Bless the saints! God must have gold for that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No gold? No gold, no shrift. And here's old Claw-foot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coming through the dark, that needs a furnace tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A skimmer for his bullion pots. Gramercy, monk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wench-craft there nor bibbing, soft bells and venison.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Limbs hot, hot lungs, hot belly, everything—<br /></span> +<span class="i13">(<i>The taper goes out.</i>) Puff!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down over the big, windy world. Good jump;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clean to the pit. <span class="directline">(<i>Thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i18">Ay, night, smack your black chaps.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rumble! rumble!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He feels about the ground for his staff, and, +having found it, walks back and stands under +one of the windows of the dormitory.</i>) Soloman! +Soloman!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Devil wants you. D'you hear? His pipe's gone out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give him a coal.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He waits a while, then beats upon the shutter +with his staff. A low voice is heard within.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">What's that? Eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— Who is it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lucifer?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Ay, with his light out.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">(<i>After a pause.</i>) Come, come!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll have to cut a reed and suck the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the big fool you told of.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The shutter opens and the head of Soloman appears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">Light, light, man! <span class="directline">(<i>Soloman whispers.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Pipe out, cricket. Here's the big noisy winds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roarin' in my ears. <span class="directline">(<i>Soloman whispers and points to the corner.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i21">Prowling? A night like this!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turned wolf, eh? There's a fine porker gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Louis and he were at their wassail cups,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nuzzling a stoup o' hipo' a while ago. <span class="directline">(<i>He comes toward the corner.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">God bless you, senechal, another stoup.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swine-herd, all-hail! Fill up the Abbot's trough.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An he breaks sty, look out! God bless us then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Water and bread, water and bread. Zooks, zooks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The devil's up with Andrew if he finds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The oratory dark. (<i>He listens.</i>) Otho! Spot! Hya! Hya!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's something snooping here. (<i>He crosses himself.</i>) I'll get a light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bustle from this place. It's the Devil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walking on wool. <span class="directline">(<i>He turns back toward the window.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i4">Water and bread. Sfoot, sfoot!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sheep will find thin food on Andrew's grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light, man, light! It's the bats hurtling.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Soloman disappears.</i>) There's a chinch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That burrows in the vellum like a mole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A parchment moth what can spin yarn or yarn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the old dame i' the tale. He reads and reads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's got a wit strung like a rosary thread<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With tales and names and things and things and things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me a tale, says I, something valorous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something to lighten life for an old man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tales for tapers, says he. A go, says I.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I pilfers from the chapel sconce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snuffed stubbs. To lighten life, says I.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Soloman reappears with a lighted candle.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lad that rode the dolphin, did he get<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To land?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—He stayed upon the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— And drowned?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—Turned buccaneer and sacked the christian ships<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sold the spoil in Jewry. <span class="directline">(<i>Andrew walks away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">Don't you wish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear it? The tale goes on to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Hugh de Bouillon, cruising in the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found him upon a cliff and took him down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From off a gibbet where the sea-gulls flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his harp upon the deck at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He made the sea-lads merry with his songs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's have them now, here at the gates of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off from dead men crying in the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—What makes the lightning go that way, zigzag?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—The Devil broke it on a gibbet—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Tush!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—And hung it upon a sea-cliff.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Tush, tush, lad!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't make game o' the old man. If he's bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's with prayer. <span class="directline">(<i>He comes back to the window.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— Sing me a sea-song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— It's too raw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A night, lad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He holds his taper up toward Soloman's, when suddenly</i> +<i>some one carrying a light appears at the farther corner</i> +<i>of the dormitory. Soloman jerks back his candle.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">Eh? It's Bill-o'-the-wisp!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God save us, man! Moving! It's a torch.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The light passes behind the chapel. Andrew walks back in</i> +<i>the court.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How the wind blows! There's blood in it. Caw, rooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chatter and caw. Villainy is abroad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's blood on the stones somewhere, fresh blood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stands looking in the direction whence the light disappeared.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's the new deer-man fastening up the dogs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hunts in the night when the brockets o' the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to the stream to drink. And none to tell them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the foul spear. No abbot-stag to say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Standing to his belly in the stream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Drink will be the death of you." It's a foul world.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Returning toward the window.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hunter's at the kennel wi' his pups.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's his name? He's been here now a sennight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—Macias.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Macias; that's a good name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Giving Andrew a light.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It's a lean name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Lean name? Fat, man, fat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An it was lean we'd have to cast our skins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the snakes do, and sleep at breakfast time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tell you, Soloman, there a hunter for you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's for a beast, he fronts it i' the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blazing its pretty orbs wi' his big torch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eye's a rook's eye and his spear as true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the bolt o' the buskined hussy what you say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drops from the moon i' the dead o' night and hunts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked i' the woods. She's a—I'm a monk, though.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An you could see him coming through the copse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shuffling the dews away, zooks, you would say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burnt faced fellows of Libya were for sure<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Making a revel feast for the big god.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The game! the game! Sweet, tender prickets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stags and chamois calves, pheasants and geese,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turtles and loaches and toper horse-fish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' fins as red as blood. God bless us, though.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An the Abbot finds the oratory dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There'll be thin food for sheep on Andrew's grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Water and bread.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He starts toward the chapel, humming to himself.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— What's the song, Andrew?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Sh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Abbot hears me trill that heathen song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll get no chick-weed. It's a foul song.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes forward and looks round the corner of the dormitory,</i> +<i>then returns to the window.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cricket chirped it from a chink i' the wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the old man dozed dreaming o' green fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up there. <span class="directline">(<i>He sings.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i6"><i>The grass is food for the ewe</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And the ewe is food for man</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And man is food for the green, green grass</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And the grass for the ewe again.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The foul song makes goat's food of us all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Andrew's shoots, gowan, and aigilops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For filthy goats to browse on. <span class="directline">(<i>He starts away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i34">Sfoot, I'll fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Fore I'll be carried around in a goat's udder.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Suddenly around the farther corner of the chapel the light</i> +<i>reappears. Soloman snatches-to the shutter. Old Andrew</i> +<i>blows out his taper and gets down upon his knees</i> +<i>by the wall. Macias, the hunter, carrying a pine torch,</i> +<i>comes forward across the court.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Telling his beads.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Adeste, sancti</i>; villainy is abroad.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Holding down his torch.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, monk, you're right. Are all the brothers in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—<i>Abi</i>, fiend! Out with the sooty torch!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Andrew's prayers can fly to heaven i' the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—I meant no harm, monk. I was passing by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard you say there's villainy abroad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought perhaps you'd heard the blind bitch howl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I did, mournful. Did you? Did you hear her?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Looking up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Who breaks old Andrew's mass? Zooks, it's the Devil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrusting his grimy face through censer smoke.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Turning to the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Adeste, sancti</i>; villainy is abroad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Reflecting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It may have been in my dream. <span class="directline">(<i>He walks out in the court.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i38">A few white stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still burned above the village. (<i>Looking up.</i>) Not a star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the heavens. <span class="directline">(<i>He returns right. Andrew has risen.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i20">Are all the brothers in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Up there behind the clouds?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Did you hear the howl?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Ay, heard it in the pines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— The bitch, I mean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Carnus is dog. Bitch is a carnal thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've been at prayer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Within?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— The prayer was in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Andrew was out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Here in the gale? How long?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Till a soul jumps from the big windy world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Jumps from the world? Whose soul?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— The monk's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—(<i>Aside.</i>) The monk's!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, there it is, the howl of the hound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death has been here.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Shook and refused to jump<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he was driven off.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— What! Driven off?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Ay, by the winds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— He died not in his cell?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—He died here by the wall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks back in the darkness.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Monk, beat the brush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear some crime is crouching in the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Ay, that there is; there's villainy abroad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stands listening.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Why are you silent? Tell me how he died.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Andrew returns gloomily and lights his taper at the hunter's</i> +<i>torch.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—His soul was calm until it sniffed the gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw the wild-fire grazing in the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then you should have seen him. When he heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roar of the wind and saw the lean moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush through the clouds, tearing them with her horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zooks, then he fluttered like a gull on a mast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a big barque is poppling up and down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I' the foam. And all the while devils' grimy hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plucked at him through the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The hunter turns away mumbling to himself.</i>) Eh? Mad? You're right.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An you'd a seen 'em you'd a said they're mad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Where will I find the Abbot?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Legions of them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'd seen me sponge him twice with a good shrift.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As soon as ever the third foul sin appeared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They pounced him and pitched him down over the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To where the big deep dashes up the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spraying the stars of heaven. Down, down, down!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks back in the court and stands listening.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hear it? Blood on the stones, fresh blood. (<i>Calling.</i>) Mother!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Chattering to himself. It must be he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient acholyte they told me of.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gray hairs and staff—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Mother!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— His ears are keen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From listening to the crickets in the stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Year after year. Jesu, that's a long time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagles that were young upon the crags<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he came here are gray. God, fifty years!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fifty years to watch the lizards spawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed them, name them, miss them then and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the green crevices of the old wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another brood come forth. Each rook that haunts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These musty gables here, he knows them all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knows every tomb-bat in the coffin'd crypt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can tell the spiders, where they cast their webs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dark corners, where and how and why;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rere-mice, when they breed; the vermin—God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fifty long years, fifty! And all that time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To count the days like beads and feel them black!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd rather be a fox. I'd rather be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never to have chased the chamois up the cliffs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never to have felt the thrill of stag at bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or heard the pheasant in the wild brown brake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whir! (<i>Walking right.</i>) I'd rather be a chipmunk free to—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—You got the dogs shut in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>At the corner of the dormitory.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i43">They're shut in. Why?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Hear it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— I hear nothing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Far down in the dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, groaning in the wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It tries to rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some stag or something's fallen from the rocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the dogs in? Is Twinkle in, and Spot?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Macias walks back.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's something moving round it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Stag, you say?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—It's not a stag. Its foot sounds like a paw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear it? It's dragging off the carcass. Hear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Old man, your ears are at the gates of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is it that you hear in this wild night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake you strike the trail I struck in sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have just had a dream in which I saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stag out on the mountain there dragged down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Abstractedly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Its foot sounds like a paw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— 'Twas in the dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am just from a dream in which I saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snow-white talbot pull a stag down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—And when the talbot had pulled down the buck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pair of hands, small as a fairy's are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reached through the leaves and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Mother Mary! Hold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will wake Daniel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Are all the brothers in?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Andrew beats upon the shutter.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—You're right. He'll read it as easy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the old fellow what ate pulse and got<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lean as the kine he saw. He knows them all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says he: "Dreams sleep under the dog-wood blooms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love to hear the patter o' the rain."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, he knows the color o' their beards, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says he, one day, telling me of a dream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onar was its name, gray-beard like a king—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steals into a tent: "Now you can get the girl;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake up and fight; now you can get her."<br /></span> +<span class="i12">(<i>A low voice within.</i>) Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dream, God bless us, fire-wing. <span class="directline">(<i>The shutter opens.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">He.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— Tell it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Farther back, a second shutter opens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—First tell me this: Did either of you monks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear Fever howl?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— I heard no howl.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—(<i>Flashing back his torch.</i>) Did you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In a thin voice.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Hear Fever howl.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— What's Fever?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— The bitch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— Shame!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Soloman.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">A while ago I started up from sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hurried to the kennel, thinking sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd find old Fever sick again; but no;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bitch was sleeping. And yet I heard a howl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may have been the white hound in my dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seemed to be out on the mountain there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas early morning; a few stars still shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the village. Soon, far down the road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a baying as of hounds. Thinks I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"A deer has passed and waked the village dogs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now for a chase." There must have been a slot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fresh blood on the road that fired the pack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on they came like mad. Around the cliff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long bodies swung like shadows through the mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tore on up the mountain. Farther up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stag plunged from a hazel copse, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snow-white talbot, following close behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shot smoking from the brake. "Abloy!" I cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leaped upon a rock. The after-pack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nosing the vent along the mountain road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard the loud challenge of the leading hound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, breaking trail, came crashing through the brush<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And spied the quarry, and with their heads in air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprang after up the scree, their steaming mouths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ringing the mountains round. The pretty deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nostrils flaming and with dappled flanks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torn by the furze, came skirting round a rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turned to dash under some low-hung boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When over a near knoll the hot, sinewy hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to a cat-o'-mountain from a limb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shot through the air. Crash through the boughs he went.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprinkling the earth with leaves. Out jumped my knife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, leaping from the rock, I hurried down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To slit the poor brute's throat and save a steak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the mad, hungry pack. The pretty buck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Staggered beneath the hound, while the beads of blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dripped from the quivering hocks. The head fell back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender haunches sank on the soft turf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death was closing up the eyes, when lo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sancta Maria, what a miracle!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He pauses a moment, then proceeds with more and more animation.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A gale had risen and the clouds that hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gray in the heavens when the chase began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foamed, and, flying black before the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grappled the woods and threw his thick, green hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the swirling rack of livid sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightnings and thunders, winds and tumbling rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charged on the pack of dogs as though they were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devils come up from Hell, and hurled them down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the pit again. Under the beech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the white talbot had pulled down the buck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold the miracle the Virgin wrought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of a dallop of green boughs that hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close to the haunches of the hart appeared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pair of small pink hands that with one wrench<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tore the hound's jaws apart. The deer rose up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from a sleep, shook his brown coat and browsed<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The succulent green twigs, then wandered off<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up the dark mountain side, whilst like a star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the dim, dissolving antlers shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crucifix of silver, dripping blood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Several shutters in the second story have opened and faces</i> +<i>are seen white in the glare of the torch. Old Andrew,</i> +<i>frightened, has drawn back in the shadow against the</i> +<i>wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo, then a sight such as I hope our Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will visit to these dying eyes of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their last hour. The louring mountain brows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brightened beneath a drift of golden feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wings waved in the air, and faces bloomed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the edding sky, and the dark towering ridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifting its weight of crags above the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sloughed off its shadow, and the field of pines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a green army climbing to the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the darkness of the dale below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook their victorious plumes, and every rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tree, bush, and vine, and weed, and flower sent up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Voices of joy till all the mountains rang.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Leo</span>—"I say unto you that joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that returneth."</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From the second story.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Who is the sinner?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—(<i>Calling up.</i>) Are all the brothers in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—(<i>Calling.</i>) Oswald!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Ask Pierre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Far within.</i>) He has not returned. (A pause.)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—He may have stayed with Father Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He finishes to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— Tell this dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the Abbot. <span class="directline">(<i>The hunter disappears round the corner.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>— Let us hear what Father says.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Oswald is girt about with prophesy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Fiends cannot harm him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Jesus is with him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The shutters are closed hurriedly.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Alone.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The Devil is a big, long-legged crane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wading the marsh of life, and we are frogs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tadpoles and water-bugs. I'll fast and pray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He shields his flickering taper with his gown and makes</i> +<i>his way across the court toward the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE FOUR—A desolate mountain road along the top</i> +<i>of a cliff that plunges down from the edge of a pine-wood.</i> +<i>Overhead the wind is heard moaning in the trees, and</i> +<i>upon the ground patches of moonlight wave to and fro.</i> +<i>From the left, past some bushes which almost hide the</i> +<i>road from view, the dwarf, Sigurd, appears carrying the</i> +<i>monk, Oswald, limp in his arms. The latter's face is so</i> +<i>emaciated that one would never recognize him as the</i> +<i>same person as was seen in the forest some three years</i> +<i>ago. His feet, upon which are heavy wooden shoes, drag</i> +<i>along the road. Suddenly from somewhere in his clothing</i> +<i>the large silver crucifix falls to the ground. The dwarf</i> +<i>stoops, and, resting the monk upon his knee, reaches down</i> +<i>and secures the crucifix, which he puts between his teeth.</i> +<i>Then, having gotten a new hold, he rises and, with difficulty,</i> +<i>makes his way up the road.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_THREE" id="ACT_THREE">ACT THREE.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—A grassy ledge far up on the mountain</i> +<i>side. Tall pine trunks rise here and there. Down the</i> +<i>slope, to the left, are russet tops of small oaks newly</i> +<i>leaved. To the right, a rocky acclivity of about thirty</i> +<i>degrees elevation with scattered bushes and a sheep path</i> +<i>winding back and up. In the distance, a blue range of</i> +<i>mountains with their bases buried in the white mists of</i> +<i>early morning.</i></p> + +<p><i>Some distance back from where the path comes down</i> +<i>upon the ledge, Conrad is broiling woodcocks on coals.</i> +<i>Brown feathers are sprinkled about upon the turf. Upon</i> +<i>a rock near by lies a well-filled hunting bag. Fritz, with</i> +<i>his face to the fire, is reclining upon the grass with a</i> +<i>shepherd's staff in his hands. From down the slope, comes</i> +<i>a tinkle of bells as of sheep browsing on the mountain side.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—Two days later.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—I was with Canzler when the boy climbed up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the rocks and handed it to him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—What does it look like?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It's as long as that,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Indicating on his staff.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And blue as the waters of the tarn down there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the haft are wrought two eagles' heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, twisted round the blade in coil on coil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A serpent in the talons of the birds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms the cross piece upon the lower haft.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the blade between the coils what may be runes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are cut in characters of some unknown tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least, no man has ever made them out.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Where could the boy have gotten it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— No one knows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn the bird over.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— It is not brown yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—There is something magical about it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the light, the blade bends like a willow wand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the sky is overcast with clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in the shade of rock or tree no man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his might can bend it, and it slips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through tree and rock as through a pawpaw leaf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—The boy himself, what did he say?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— He vanished.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— Eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—When Canzler turned to ask him, he was gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—And have you seen him since?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Where is your bread?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—I have some here. <span class="directline">(<i>He reaches up into the bag.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i36">Has no one seen him since?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—He was out on the mountains every day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before, either by the abbey over there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or climbing in the vines above the tarn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But always in the shade of rock or tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he crossed spaces where the sunlight fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas always in the shadow of a cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one has seen him since he disappeared.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Laying the bread upon the grass.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You know the song that Wiglaf used to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of how Val-father wanders over the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In human form—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— That is what Rudolph says;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father turns his dark side to the earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—And leaves swords sticking in the rock and trees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Rudolph insists that Oswald will return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He says that Selma learned it from the trees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She listens in the forest all day long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the wind is loud and the boughs sway—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—How could he ever find us here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How that could be; Woden knows where we are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where he turns his face the way is clear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Oswald has turned his back on Woden's face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Blind Hoder wandered once as far as Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he came back, for Woden in his mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Directed him and—Here comes Canzler now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Is that the sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— What was that he said?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—He must be going down to see the priest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With the sword at his side and wearing a cap made of a</i> +<i>wild-cat's skin, its head upon his head and the rest of</i> +<i>the skin hanging down his back, Canzler comes down</i> +<i>the sheep path, followed by Rudolph.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—More than two years have passed and not a word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ever said to throw the claim in doubt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now that Hartzel is about to die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They think to get the whole tract for the Church,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the ground that he who sold the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Hartzel was apostate to their Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—They don't deny that the man owned the land?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—He owned the land till he disowned the Faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by that act he dispossessed himself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, they say, the land reverted to God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—And Hartzel's money, to whom does it revert?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—That is a matter between infidels,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And proves, when they rob one another so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no honesty outside the Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The man that sold the land robbed Hartzel, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—If knavery is all outside the Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Will you men have some breakfast?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And did they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell Hartzel on what ground they had seized his land?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—"All land is God's, and pagans have no right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To own it," was the answer that he got.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was a month ago, though. When they found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the wind passed and still the fruit hung on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking perhaps 'twould fall of its own weight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They waited until yesterday and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unexpectedly they bumped the tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hartzel should hold possession during life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is about to die—and at his death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Church should take the burden of the estate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his dead shoulders, and carry it without charge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with it save his soul from Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And save<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His children—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— From the path that leads to Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Is that their proposition?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— That is it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old man in despair appealed to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—What are you going to tell them, Canzler?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—What am I going to tell them? Tell them what<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father tells the mountains, tells the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees, the beasts, the birds, all things that live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woden, who made all things, made each to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Different from the rest. He made the oak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bear its acorns and the pine its cones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mole to burrow and the fox to run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagle to hatch her brood upon the crag<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the sun, the bat, in the dark cave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ox to eat grass, and the lion flesh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each to go its own particular way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a path as separate and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As are the curves and risings of the stars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz and Conrad come forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He made no bell to ring all things that live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sameness in their lives or in their thought.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To keep them, as he made them, different,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave to each an individual taste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And matched the taste within with that without<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, when the two meet, the result is joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy is the voice of each thing as it moves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward Woden on the path that he laid out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagle finds its way without a guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Woden, and the stars without a guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each in its own light, and all things that live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the blind worm to the all-seeing sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follow their joy and come at last to him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagle's right to go the eagle's way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not conditioned by another thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save by the fact alone that it is so:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Woden gave to it an eagle's wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so with man. To what man has a right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He has a right because he is a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not because he is a kind of man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father's bells have each a different tone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot make the million aisles that lead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him one aisle and drive all things through that,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or make the right of each to be and to have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest on its answering a particular bell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we admit their principle that Faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or anything outside the fact that one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a man, is the basis of the rights of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shame our Saxon fathers who fought and died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a lie, if this be true. For when the South<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pushed through the Frankish forest with her sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between her teeth, and stained with blood, and held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hands out, saying, "Here, take this or this,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our fathers chose the darkness of the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the red hand, and left the black hand filled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that which now to keep itself alive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eats Hartzel's land and licks its fangs toward us.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When the great night came on and they laid down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under their battered shields and broken swords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees have told us what their last word was:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The northern air will kill the southern lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we will come again. Remember this."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And here we are.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— It may not be dawn yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some are up before the light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead will rise when Balder comes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— But now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father has his dark side to the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And works in his own shadow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— But the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will reach down and lift Balder out of Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Drawing the sword from Canzler's belt.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If we concede to every man the right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As you say, Canzler, to his own belief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must concede to the villagers the right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their belief that they own Hartzel's land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—We do concede it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Their right to their belief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not their right to Hartzel's land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— With them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men are God's vassals, and the land they hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hold in fief to him, on terms of faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—And while they keep the Faith, they keep the land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And when they lose the Faith, they lose the land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking aside.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And when they have no Faith, they have no land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He tries to pierce with the sword a pine tree in the sunlight.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Try that one in the shade there.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The sword passes deeply into the second trunk.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Is it through?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Looking behind the trunk.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">More than a hand's breadth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— If the village dogs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snap at you as they are wont to—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— I shall have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No trouble with them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And yet you expect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell them what you said just—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— I expect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hartzel to have his rights. Fetch it here, Conrad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The Bailiff, Canzler, is a rabid man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—I have no business with the Bailiff.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To reach the church, you must pass through the street.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Is it too narrow for two men to pass?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He receives the sword and goes left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—For two such men as you two are, it is.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—With swords on thighs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking back toward the fire.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i18">The hilts might knock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—(<i>Following him.</i>) Or blades.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Above.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'm going with you, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— No, Selma;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who comes running down the path.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i8">Just to the dingle; the faries say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heather-bells are out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Let her go, Canzler.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Throw the white blooms away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Throwing away a sprig of dog-wood.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i49">Now may I go?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—They make you sad. <span class="directline">(<i>He starts down the slope</i>.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— I'll not cry any more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll be gay, Father, if you let me go.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She turns and looks questioningly at Rudolph, who nods to</i> +<i>her. Then, skipping forward, she takes hold of the hilt</i> +<i>of her father's sword and steadies herself with it as they</i> +<i>go down the slope.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Come back and have a woodcock.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph walks back.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— There he goes. <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">O Canzler!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— He don't hear you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Who?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— The Priest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Which way is he?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Riding down toward town.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph joins the others, and the three stand looking off</i> +<i>left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Directing Rudolph.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Up that way from the Abbey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— I bet he's been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to see Hartzel. (<i>Shouting.</i>) Canzler!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— He can't hear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—The courtyard of the abbey, as in Scene</i> +<i>three of the second act. The large crucifix which was</i> +<i>seen in the forest in the first Act is fixed above the door of</i> +<i>the chapel. On either side of the door is a stained glass</i> +<i>window, the farther one depicting the Transfiguration,</i> +<i>the nearer one, the legend of St. Giles. The deer with</i> +<i>blood dripping from a wound in its haunch stands behind</i> +<i>the saint who holds in his hand an arrow with blood upon</i> +<i>its tip. The emporer and his huntsmen are presenting</i> +<i>the saint with golden cups. The deer is watching them.</i> +<i>Several rude benches of stone are ranged alongside of the</i> +<i>dormitory. In the rear, about ten feet back from the</i> +<i>building, a low stone wall extends across, passing behind</i> +<i>the dormitory on the one side and the chapel on the other.</i> +<i>To the left, far back, is seen the side of the mountain on</i> +<i>which the abbey stands. The upper part is thickly wooded,</i> +<i>and below, where the timber is sparse, a road winds down</i> +<i>the cliff to the village. Farther down, the slope becomes</i> +<i>more precipitous and is covered with bowlders and</i> +<i>stunted evergreens, some of which have been broken off</i> +<i>by rocks tumbling from the cliff above. Off to the right,</i> +<i>a space of sky with the snow-peaks flashing in the sunlight.</i> +<i>To the left in the last Scene, they are now far to</i> +<i>the right.</i></p> + +<p><i>From a door in the dormitory facing the court, Ely and</i> +<i>Pierre enter. The former has a hunting horn suspended</i> +<i>from his shoulder by a chain, and in his hand a small</i> +<i>wooden crucifix. Pierre carries two large silver candelabra.</i> +<i>They come out talking.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—For he was old and he had come four miles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—A cripple too! When was this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Yesterday.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I showed him this and said: "Good man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is a rood he carved with his own hands,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light filled his eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— And had he come so far?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Ely walks forward and looks around the corner of the</i> +<i>dormitory.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— <span class="directline">(Turning back.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I must be at the gate when father comes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four miles on crutches. Suddenly he looked up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must have seen a wing flash in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his face brightened with the light of faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a seed he seemed to scent a shower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—What did you do?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— I asked him to kneel down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, what a power there is in holy things!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sooner had I touched him with the rood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than like a plant he rose up from the stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blossomed; cried: "Lord Jesus, I am cured!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the mountain ran shouting for joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—The Holy Virgin bless us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Yes, he did;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran down. I watched him till he disappeared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then turned to stone. I could not stir, but stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frightened as though an angel hovered near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the blue sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— Oh, I have felt it too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These two days have to me been like a dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am dizzy as on some high place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At night I feel the stars are not far off,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I wake, it seems to me the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is breaking far below us on the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So near we are to that which lights the sun, <span class="directline">(<i>He holds up the candelabra.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">These candles, if I should dare to speak the word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would burst out into flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Pierre!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—(<i>Still looking up.</i>) Oh, surely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely the hands that lifted Oswald up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifted our abbey too, and we are close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heaven. Perhaps about us in the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are voices and the wings of those that hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our very whispers,—martyrs, saints, Saint Giles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—You make it terrible to live in flesh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Oh, terrible! It is terrible to live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every word drops in an angel's ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel that every breath should be a prayer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—I feel so too, Pierre. These acts of grace—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Are but the sparks of power.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He starts toward the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Mere sparks, you think?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These healings and this rescue from the gulch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mere sparks?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— Simply the scattered beams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— And yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same great light hath kindled one and all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it not so?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— All these will vanish when—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—Tell me. Go on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— When the full orb shall burst.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—What do you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—(<i>Mounting the steps.</i>) I dare not speak it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Brother!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Ely, we stand in darkness by the Tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little beams flash on us from the chinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the full glory, flooding all the vault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaits the angel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Is it the dream you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—No one must ever tell him, Father says.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—You think then that the dream will be fulfilled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it is Oswald whom the hounds of Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will chase up some vast mountain of the soul?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Soon the stone will stir. <span class="directline">(<i>He enters the chapel.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Pierre!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>While Ely stands hoping that Pierre will reappear, loud</i> +<i>laughter breaks from the open door of the dormitory,</i> +<i>and Simon and Basil come sprawling out. The former</i> +<i>is pulling at a piece of flesh. Ely's face shows anger,</i> +<i>and he starts left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— His crutches!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He laughs aloud.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—Here he is now. Ely!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Calling through the door.</i>) Hear that, Rene?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beggar left his crutches for his gift.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Laughter within.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—You ask him. Ely!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Ely unlocks the iron gates and passes out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Bring the crutches, man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simon's got the gout.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rene comes out and joins Basil in laughing at +Simon. The latter, eating his meat, walks back +in the court. Basil whispers to Rene.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>— When was it, Simon?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—Yesterday. I was sleeping on the bench<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the old codger's shouting waked me up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there he was. <span class="directline">(<i>He points up to the road.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i19">I thought the man was mad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or had been in the gables robbing nests,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his white hair fluttering in the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked like a pair of pigeons on his poll.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must have thought the Devil— <span class="directline">(<i>He sits down on a bench.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Or else Ely.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Yes, chasing him for his pay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Indignantly.</i>) His crutches!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Drolly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">He left his sole support.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They all laugh. Basil, who has come forward, peeps round</i> +<i>the corner of the dormitory. Withdrawing quickly, he</i> +<i>hurries back toward the door.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Excitedly, in an underbreath.</i>) Rene!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points back over his shoulder with his thumb.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—(<i>Huskily.</i>) Simon!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Simon leaps up, jerks away his meat, and, wiping his mouth</i> +<i>with his sleeve, hurries after the others into the dormitory.</i> +<i>From the right, the Abbot enters followed by a</i> +<i>train of monks. He wears a miter and a flowing cope</i> +<i>of scarlet, richly apparelled. From the end of a rosary</i> +<i>about his neck dangles an ivory crucifix. The monks</i> +<i>are all in black and wear their hoods. Upon reaching</i> +<i>the center of the court, the Abbot raises his staff and the</i> +<i>procession stops.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Saint Martin hath restored the golden dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And put the clouds to flight. The kingly sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks on the world like our new-risen Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driving the night before Him. And the fiends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fly with darkness from the pit of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To conjure with the baleful midnight stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wreck God's holy chime of human souls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are scourged to Hell, and all the rebel orbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are thunder-stunned. Vapors and noxious fogs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hatch contagion in rank, drizzling swamps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will soon beneath the lightning's flagellum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With breezes fan their fevers from the blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with pure sea-dews from green ocean urns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprinkle the parched earth to cool the vines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preparing clusters of our dear Lord's blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The serpent spawn of imps and evil dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairies and watching wanderers of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That kennel in the bowels of the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taint its waters, blight the tender sprouts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sow infections through the flocks and herds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have flown like bats into the squalid caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there are numb with fear. O'er Zion's towers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virgin dawn brings forth the sun of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiles upon the world. The blessed light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreads o'er the earth its bright, archangel wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dripping with balmy dews and cassia smells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day will—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>High up on the mountain is heard the blast of a trumpet.</i>) Hark!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Monk</span>— It was Ely's trumpet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Some one comes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— The asses from Italy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing the wine and frankincense, no doubt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Monk</span>—And the golden chalices.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— And Father's cope.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre comes from the chapel</i>.)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Pierre!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— What it is, Father?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Is the ambry clean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—It is, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Go find Louis, and fetch—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetch the diotas and—let's see—three casks.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<div class="directcenter"> +<p>(<i>He saunters toward the gate. Three monks follow</i> +<i>Pierre, right. The rest disperse about the court, the</i> +<i>greater part eventually finding their way into the chapel.</i> +<i>A few walk back in the rear and stand looking up at</i> +<i>the road. Three monks, who came in at the end of</i> +<i>the procession and who all the while have stood perfectly</i> +<i>still, slip back their hoods and discover Simon, Rene,</i> +<i>and Basil. At the corner of the dormitory, Pierre and</i> +<i>his companions meet Louis entering</i>.)</p> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of the Monks</span>—The train has come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— Father says bring the casks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"><p>(<i>Louis reaches under his gown and produces a large iron</i> +<i>key which he hands to Pierre. He then passes into the</i> +<i>court. The four go out</i>.)</p> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Calculating.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Thirty gallons and six—(<i>Turning.</i>) Four casks, Pierre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—The chopin too, Pierre. You know the men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mule-men will be dry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Or Simon will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Or Basil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Or Rene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— (<i>With his hand to his mouth.</i>) Or Father.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They laugh.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Louis!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The shutter near the corner of the dormitory opens, and</i> +<i>Solomon leans out. He has a parchment in his hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—<i>Quid est</i>, Leo?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Telling his beads, on one of the benches.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i37">The wine train has arrived.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—From Paradise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— Don't be irreverant.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—-(<i>To Soloman.</i>) Let no man look on wine when it is red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—I shut my eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Holding their sides for laughter, Rene and Basil stagger</i> +<i>back toward the rear. Soloman withdraws from the</i> +<i>window.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— Father will tend to you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Simon makes faces at him and follows his companions.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking aside with Louis.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Say nothing to the strangers of the affair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Of finding brother Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— No, not that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fall, his being found before the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that, no doubt, the villagers last night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poured into their ears. The folk are deeply stirred.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From tongue to tongue the flame of rumor runs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heavenly hands bore Oswald from the gulch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They think the holy saints have blessed his palms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With power of healing and of miracles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alms have increased ten-fold. Cattle and sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jewels and coin, and corn and casks of wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour in from every side. Within a year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">St. Giles will swell her roofs and shine in gold— <span class="directline">(<i>Confidentially.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Provided, Louis, provided. You understand?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You mean the abbey here will robe herself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In purple cloth-of-bodkin stiff with pearl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provided—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— This new loom shall keep her hum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—That here red wines will flow to flush her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provided—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Hand in hand upon the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sudden sun that hath sprung up the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall lead the vine and pour his blood to swell—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—That morning when it strikes her eastern gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will see her heaving heavenward dome on dome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provided—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Ay, that's it. You understand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The quarry for our domes is in our brains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, in our brains, your brain and mine, Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have the shuttle of that wonderous loom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shall array her in her cloth-of-gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is the sun, the bridegroom of the grape.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here, from hills of France and Italy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purple bride shall come and loose her zone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay her dower in the abbey's lap.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lock up that jewel, Louis, in its case.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let it not get abroad that you suspect—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspect, I say; you surely do not know—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—I only know of what I heard and saw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard his voice and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You were fast asleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—At first I was; then, wakened by the shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three times I heard him cry out in the dark:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Haro! help! help!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— A voice, of course; but whose?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night so alters sound you cannot tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cat-o'-mountain screaming in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the world sounds like a wailing child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—But when I see the track, I'll tell you then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The track up by the gate, and it's there now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the dwarf's track, four toes on the left foot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Preposterous, Louis, that this hunched devilock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought up on witch's dugs, in the dead of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be about the service of the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asses can talk like men when angels bid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps the angels, taking him in the act<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of throwing brother Oswald from the cliff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scourged him before them to the abbey gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made him in his pain cry out for help<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And set his print to attest the power of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Brother Oswald, perhaps.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Only God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But make no mention of the witch's son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When truth is whist and doubt a favoring gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blowing toward golden islands in the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the ship drive before it into port.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one was with you when you found him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—No one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And no one saw you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—No one. It was still dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brothers were asleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Say nothing of it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let rumor blow it as a miracle.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet feet of saints have run down in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a touch enriched a holy house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of no more worth than this of good St. Giles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rumor of saints can do as much as saints.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thoughts of bright wings stirring in the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can kindle hearts to deeds of charity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by those deeds the Virgin's chapels rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the flame run. We'll blow it through the land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've had the brothers circulate report<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wings were seen dissolving in the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the mountains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>With a smile.</i>) So, perhaps, there were—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">agles wheeling airily in the clouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this not, Father, to build upon the sand?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—To build on sand is to build on a lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—What is a lie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—A lie is not a thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is not, but a thing that cannot be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to say good is evil is a lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For good cannot be evil. But to say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That that hath been which God hath power to do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to make faith a fact. In days like these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Albigensian heresy is rank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must support the Holy Writ in this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That what is done in thought is done in deed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has a good deed been done? Then a good thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has done that deed, and that good thought is God's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such thoughts we call angels.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Oswald, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was rescued by the angels?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Without doubt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The globe of fire that Dominic beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above our Lady's chapel in the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Prouille was a light in his own mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—The multitude will never understand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This nice distinction.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Just so; but shall we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show them the foul body of fair Truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the clear spirit?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—The spirit, Father.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never doubt the end you have in view.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You doubt the means, though. Deep down in your heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You smile and say: "But Father is all right.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The times are fire, and fight for Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To build the abbey, Father must have gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To get the gold, the people must be bilked.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Father will return them light for gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never doubt the end he has in view."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You are the brain, Father; I, the hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know that I would help you. You know that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Anyway, Louis, I am justified.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For simple souls find joy in simple faith.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go down into the village. Guido tells me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their faces shine because of this bright thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It purifies and cheers them. Cyprian says<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no power that does not come from God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He might have said the same of light and joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall I, to whom what I know this thing is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems quite as strange as what they think it is—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That angels did it—, take their light away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because I know it falls not from a star?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand lamps burn in the House of Life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I walk through its chambers and say: "This,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children, and this, now these were lit of Hell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that one there—see how the oil of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goes up the wick and throws a brighter flame"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless they see it brighter, it is not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot see it so without my eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot have my eye and keep their own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they must keep their own a little while;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least until I get my abbey built,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until I shout the sun from out the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with its beams illumine the valley there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since its rising on their gifts depends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since their gifts depend on their belief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot tell them their belief is false;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twould bring the abbey down upon their heads;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Benedict would shout forevermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing their night come back without a star.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I cannot tell them what is true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing is sadder than to see a mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drifting between an old faith torn away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a new rock not risen from the waves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wisp must burn until the sun comes up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Lord himself tempered his dazzling truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To simple minds, and spake in parables,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the halo on the brow of things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall we blow it away?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Is it there?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— For them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is intensely there. And when they come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing their little gifts, what can I say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They ask me, "Is this light?" I say, "Does it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine?" They answer, "Yes." "Then it is light." <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Is it? (<i>A pause.</i>) Louis?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Suppose so; if it shines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And if they say it shines?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>After a pause.</i>) I suppose so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Shall Plato take Saint Giles' faith away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, Louis, is the question of all time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—If he can give him Plato's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <i>If</i> he can.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if he cannot?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— If he cannot— <span class="directline">(<i>He stops.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— What?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ready to give to one who cannot take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who cannot see my light beyond her light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I step in upon my mother's prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With noise, and say: "But see, yours is no god."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pick and pound and blow her hope away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loose her tears upon my father's corpse? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Louis? (<i>A pause.</i>) Shall I?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking about with his head down.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i36">I have naught to say.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Do I still seem to be a hypocrite?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning quickly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What should I say? "Your eye sees false"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they think rue will keep the devils off,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To kill their thought would bring the devils back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave them fleeing Hell, not seeking God;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A different thing though Benedict knows it not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are not ready for the larger life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a day I cannot make them so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot take my light. Shall I take theirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their little light, and leave them in the dark?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take from their hearts the glory and the hope?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How do I know what God means by this thing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they should ask me I must drop my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say: "He hides to-morrow from to-day,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is no answer, Louis, and I know it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can I do? No, I must seem to lie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I am serving God, seem to serve Hell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray to the Giver of Light, "Thy will be done,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then give darkness! Oh, for some power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some angel, Louis, that should come from heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And free us from these bonds of policy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we must hide our light like secret parts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though each shining ray were snake of Hell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, that some god would step down on the peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make us throw our thought out on the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fields their seeds, leaving the god of growth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To separate and slay and bring to sheaf!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I would lay this cope and this aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with my face upon the mountains run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye, run to meet the bright thing coming down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cry, "Hail, hail, hail, hail, thou blessed one!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shaking with emotion, his voice husky.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I cannot be a man!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— But, Father, that—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Accursed bondage harder than the Nile!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—That prophesy that Oswald brings, may it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not mean this very thing, that by his fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this bright rumor that the angels saved him,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A summer cloud that seems to rain down gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May it not be that by this very gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your tower of light shall rise upon this rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And save the North from darkness? May it not?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—But who will save us from our policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From playing hide and seek with God's bright son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the necessity of withholding truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those to whom the vital thing belongs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who do not even hunger for it more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who live and die about a taper's flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calling it star, and sun, salvation, God—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here all round us—Louis, look, the dawn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—The quality of all light is the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Quality, Louis, is not quantity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The myriad spheres of dew leave the fields dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The midnight luster on the swamp is light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough to guide the wild thing paddling there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The willow leaves give light unto the moth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars that fill us with the life to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave darkness in the prowling tiger's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rise and set upon its curve of ball.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God made the day for higher things than these.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some light is not enough for something more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than moth and water-rat and prowling maws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That find their food in flesh. With what design<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit God the radiant pages? For what purpose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hung he the planet Plato in the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With kindred constellations of pure thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I, a mortal man, can lift my hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave a shadow in the valley there?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It fills my life with meaning to know this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God hath ordered so our spiritual world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That every bright thing needs my will to shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it needs His to reach the shining state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of such confidence of God in man!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And I betray it. <span class="directline">(He walks about thoughtfully.)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You betray it? How?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By holding back the truth about the dwarf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I hide the light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You hide it as a seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, if the people eat, the famine spreads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But which, if planted, wide the harvest waves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your own heart tells you you are right in this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—But when, when is the feeding to begin?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I to-day withhold the seed, who knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I will not to-morrow withhold the yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so continue, building larger barns?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the people in the valley die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—But God, who sees your purpose in it all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees the day coming when this rock shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A beacon, and this region full of light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—'Twill never be while Benedict is here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Oh, but look yonder, Father! Three hours ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black clouds besieged the east, and lo, now Day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands on the mountain tops and sees them not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Night has gone there's room for Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I know that, Louis; but the years go by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, to use the little breath I have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In doing what I never did before!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How is it I cannot tell them what is true?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—'Twould crush in seed the abbey you would build.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—How can an abbey rise upon a lie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You said it was not a lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— It is a lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until they know that it is not a lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Will you tell them?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking about.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i35">I am bound,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Bound hand and foot by cursed policy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot be a man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Many a church<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has lies like this above the altar place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—My abbey was to be part of the one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You said, "Until they know it," Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—"As I do." <span class="directline">(<i>The Abbot turns.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">Do you doubt it was the dwarf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I do not doubt the fact in the case, but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may not limit its significance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a smile.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">An angel or a god, then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Half so, yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—To free us from our policy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Pray God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may be, Louis, pray God it may be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That unknown god should have an altar here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, Louis: what I mean is simply this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This thing that we call evil, may it not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be the other side of this thing we call good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The passing of bright planets of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming eclipse that is no thing at all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simply the passing of the two things, both bright?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God ever wrestles with his shadow, Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the bright goes down and now the dark:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And man stands by and watches the great game<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heart divided and with swaying mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifts whichever falls. The game goes on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever, and the nations rise and fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever, and fall and rise. And so they strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like light and shade over the mountain slopes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wrestling not for victory but strength.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And you and Benedict?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I am not his foe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come from Florence and he comes from Rome.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And you love painted windows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I love God;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loves the Church. There is the difference.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He iterates with fire in his eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not a word that Ignorance shall fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Passion lose her lightning in the deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wrestle with the bright against the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—For the world-soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Neither of us may win.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fact, I pray God that we may not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— How?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I hope that some free, some <i>free</i> spirit may win.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one wrapped round with ignorance, nor one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound hand and foot by cursed policy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I am not his foe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— But he is yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Night does not understand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— I cannot see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Louis, the greatest man in this great world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is he who sees all things are going right.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet fights as though all things were going wrong. <span class="directline">(<i>Louis shakes his head.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I know you don't. But I can do no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than show my thought. To see it, must be yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Then Oswald's fall—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Not if it gives him strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do the work his spirit bids him do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wrestle with the dark and with the bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wrestle better than he did before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shake the fruit down of that prophesy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows what God behind the horizon holds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Oswald till the dawning of that day?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I somehow feel the dream is, as it were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warp to which the prophesy is woof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that beneath the hills unseen a loom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rocks as it weaves in dogs and storm and deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And underneath the meaning of it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I was speaking of the witch's son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This pebble here I take up in my hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn it, yet I always see one side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other side is toward the underworld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though I turned it till the Judgment Day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That side would still be round there. Bid it grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swell to a bowlder's, now the chapel's size,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now a globe's. And let us hold it thus.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above us, on our palms. Like Atlas now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stand supporting it. <span class="directline">(<i>Pointing as though under the globe.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">Down here I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little night following a little day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About a water-drop, a grain of sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A point in which my spirit lives and moves. <span class="directline">(<i>Reaching up and around.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">How do I know that up here are not worlds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit with Gods' providence and bathed with soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is my thought that it should scale these zones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take my law of good and evil there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And recreate that life to what I know?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is my eye God's, that it should see all things?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From what far mountains come the grains of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sparkle in the river of my soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ranges of being and tall peaks of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May hold up here a brighter metal still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some burning thing would dry my river bed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreams that vein the dark sky of our sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lightnings vein the night and then are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence come they and whither go they, that they leave<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Vast expectation and the vacant eye?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And out beyond the chalice of our sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cases round my dew-drop soul, who knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What oceans roar with life beyond our life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spray with stars the dark rocks of the void?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How do I know what creatures come and go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond my little line of night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doing the will of the Eternal Mind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not Benedict to say, "This is He,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this is not."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Not even of the dwarf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—God is the author of the book we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose pages are the mountains and the stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though He may sit aloof, his soul pervades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each word and letter. Prowling in the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain lion feels Him in her paws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild creatures of the caves are His.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Was He in Oswald's fall?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— 'Tis past my thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How He should not be;—in his rising, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If God is with me when I climb a hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I descend do I leave God somewhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the top? If only he ascends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How came he in the valley, then, at first?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the ignorant halve the universe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thresh events and say, "The <i>wheat</i> is God's,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piecing their small minds out with nothingness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chaff too served its purpose in its time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while it served its purpose it was good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like the wheat it drew its strength from God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having served its end, is wheat itself not chaff?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Oswald's fall is evil in our minds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is because we do not see its place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where my knowledge ends, does God end, too?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our brother tumbling from the bluff that night<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Into the gorge, but tumbled, as it were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Off of God's fingers into his great palm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ascent and descent are in one straight line.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see no angle in the universe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A break in things, a point where God begins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Satan ends. If, in this strange event,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The people see a movement of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stand amazed, I stand even more amazed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At what I see than they at seraphim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what I see is darkness giving light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An earth-born thing showing capacity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For deeds divine, and busy in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not with its own low nature but with God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grapple with it and my light goes out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel as though I walked in a strong wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along a reed, with only faith for eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason calls it to me with a blind man's voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That helplessness should bring an angel down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is that as wonderful as that it should bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A devil up to do an angel's work?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What <i>we</i> see, Louis, is the miracle.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What <i>they</i> see, while it jars our sense of things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falls nicely into the mental harmony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Good becomes evil having served its end.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Benedict would rage should he hear this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Each mind takes of the light what it can hold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You know that day in the scriptorium,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you were reading the Symposium,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What he said, do you remember?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes, I do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—"If I had my way I would burn that thing."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—A beam of the sunshine hurts the owl's eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And he would peck the stars out if he could.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—As though our faith were fungus!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— If it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it must feed on darkness, let it die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking about thoughtfully.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It need not feed on darkness, Louis.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— This<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miracle, Father, will bring back the day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The Age is torn and shaken. Passions swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And range like winter rivers. I would have it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lucid and calm as Arno flowing down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sacred Florence. I am far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far away and my hairs begin to fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—This will bring back the day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— (<i>To himself.</i>) And nothing done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stands with his eyes upon the ground. Then, dreamily.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young faces radiant with the golden air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Plato breathed among the olive leaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Half aloud.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">"If I had my way I would burn that thing."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Half to himself, his back to Louis.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And if I had my way—(<i>He lifts his face.</i>)—<br /></span> +<span class="i21">Oh, I would build<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An abbey! I would cut its trenches deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down into God, the God of all things. Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would lay the white stones of Philosophy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Sages who, as gifts to Delphi, brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Small sheaves of wisdom, offering them to God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As better gifts than first born bulls and goats.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I would slay the griffin, Policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scatter its bright gold about the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay its carcass for the corner stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its telamons should be those giant men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who propt the fabric of the ancient world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The east and west and north and south should lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their four white corners on the four broad backs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Plato and his solid pupil's mind,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then him who dove too deep for Rome to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lucretius, maddening round the seeds of things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Cicero because he loved the truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there should stand all round as peristyle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bards of Greece in cluster, speaking gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young Sappho with the glory of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All round her milk white throat and marble arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud Pindar fawning kings, and Sophocles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he, he, Aeschylus, wild son of fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who never swerved for mincing Policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But spake his sea-thought out and shook the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its roof should be the shields of golden song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever burning on the hills of Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever smouldering in Eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I would have all planets God hath hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first His word went forth, "Let there be light,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within our spiritual heaven, shining here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without eclipse forever. And up there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In alto relievo on the frieze, should be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo slaying python Ignorance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Darkness with the face of Benedict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half hung down, heavy, livid, hands and teeth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tugging and biting at the architrave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tear these golden letters from the slab.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">The soul is in the brain</span>." And over all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Towering with her calm eternal eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athene, soul of Athens, holy One.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I would build an abbey!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>As in prayer.</i>) Father! Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Guido</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Appearing at the door of the chapel.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The fifteenth chapter has that blue stain on it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Pointing right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">In the scriptorium, the second shelf;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Get the Symposium; I will read that.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Horrified, the monk stands for a moment, then goes slowly</i> +<i>down the steps across the court, every now and then</i> +<i>glancing back over his shoulder at the Abbot.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In a low voice.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Remember, Father. Is this policy. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You know your abbey is not risen yet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>The Abbot bows</i> +<i>his head. Louis lifts his hand as a signal. Guido,</i> +<i>crossing the court, stops and stands waiting.</i>) +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One breath of this would bring the rafters down. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning, with his eyes closed.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The other Bible, Guido.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>The monk quickens his step and</i> +<i>enters the dormitory.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— And you know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some of the brothers might tell Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he would send it blazing down to Rome.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Lamp after lamp goes out for policy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He opens the gate through which Ely passed.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Better one lamp than total darkness, though.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Say nothing to the carriers of the affair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Have you cautioned Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Astounded.</i>) Cautioned Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You said he was unconscious.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— When I found him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was unconscious. But from what he dropped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yesterday in his cell, I am sure he knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was the dwarf that brought him up the rocks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You should have told me that. <span class="directline">(<i>He walks to and fro.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Where is he now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—He had four golden letters to put on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Down in the village at his work again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— He insisted.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Under his breath.</i>) Benedict! (<i>A silence.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Get ready and go down. A word from him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the abbey falls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Never to rise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And yet—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do not think he'll tell it. Rumor, you know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has stamped an image on the heated mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never could efface it by a thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So monsterous as that devils had turned saints<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tripped the air with angels, hand in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moving as musically as summer stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having no coin that bears the face of truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never will suspect a counterfeit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so no one will put the question to him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unquestioned, certainly Oswald will not speak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—But if he should? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i35">Awhile ago you prayed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some god to free us from our policy. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What time did he go down?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Before day-break.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The town at that time would have been asleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And Benedict, who never sleeps?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Go down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Whose dragon eyes are ever open?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He starts toward the dormitory.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Supposing Oswald has already told?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he has, Benedict will come up here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raging as upon a den of wolves. Then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he should say: "Ha! So it was the dwarf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not an angel saved your monk. And here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You pass the deed off as a miracle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To swell your abbey's revenues and rob<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me of the alms of my parishioners?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sees me coming down the mountain side<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And shouts this at me, and I say to him—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Surprised, amazed, you lift your hands: "Mon Dieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A son of Satan save St. Giles' child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do devils, then, wait upon men of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Working salvation? Do they? If they do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What means this storm of banners in the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, 'Dieu le volt!' and these bright harnassed knights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trampling the Orient into battle smoke?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why this vast tumult in the dead sunrise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If devils will take up arms and fight for God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why roll these human surges down the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To smoke and break about the Sepulcher<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hard white foam from which the ravens fly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Hell lead forth her legions from the pit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impervious to drought and pain alike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take and guard the Tomb. No, Father, no.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis blasphemy, the unforgiven sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ascribe to Hell a deed that God hath done."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Says Father Benedict: "But brother Oswald<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told me himself it was the witch's son."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—"Mon Dieu again! Could Father keep his wits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After a fall like that, and, rising, say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'This is the hand that struck me, this that saved'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was the dwarf that threw the brother down."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With words like these, chisels of policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the shield of each returning knight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath spilt blood about the Sepulcher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We carve an angel that shall plead our cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the fields and villages of France<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far on into the North and—Ah, this train!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This train shall be the trumpet that shall blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our miracle abroad through Italy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Italy is the trumpet of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Talk to the strangers then of shooting stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sounds of heavenly music in the night,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But only when a question calls it forth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climbing the tree gives flavor to the fruit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be reticent; that will add majesty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appear subdued and point to yonder peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, in the gray dawn, gleams of vanishing wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone on the mountain snows like molten gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You understand? About the witch's son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Adeste cum silentio.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After passing out through the gate, the Abbot turns and</i> +<i>calls after Louis, who is crossing the court.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i32">Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No word as yet to Oswald of the dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would not see the glory of it now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the horror. I should fear the result.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Coming from behind the chapel.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Macias is coming with another sorel. <span class="directline">(<i>Louis enters the dormitory.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Bah, then! Go on. St. Christopher. Plum-head.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Drawing himself up as Rene and Simon come from behind</i> +<i>the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am the Prior. Down, St. Peter! John!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Simon.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Matthew, thou publican!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Bacchus, thou saint!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points forward to the corner of the dormitory where</i> +<i>Pierre and his companions enter with the wine vessels</i> +<i>which they proceed to place beside the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—Simply the old clothes of My Lady Wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—The blessed Virgin grant it be the train.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had half yielded to old Andrew's dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feared the train was lost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Monk</span>— Another dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—Last night, between the glances of the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While his soul grabbled in the fogs of sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He beheld Father's new cope in a brook,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Swishing against a fallen sycamore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The censer and the golden chalices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay gleaming on the gravel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who has been tipping the casks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i28">And the wine?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—While he was hunting for it in his dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a blind weasel for a nest of eggs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And had his hand on what felt like a skin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The matins rang. He's been gruff ever since.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a holy bell can call to prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To smooth our spirits with the thought of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brings him from his hole with ruffled quills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threatening the belfry with his palmer's staff.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He says he hopes the Devil has snared the train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spurred the asses off the bluffs to Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—Now God forbid, with all that precious wine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Basil.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I shall tell Father on you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Imitating Leo's small voice.</i>) Hear him roar!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—If you roar, Lion, when the hunter comes—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Leaning out of the window.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Heus, heus, O fratres, favete linguis!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The train is safe. The tigers of the god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ramping down the mountain, yoked in vines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose dangling clusters sway their tawny backs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purple all the sky above the peaks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Limp in the car the noisy Bromios<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tips the full cup and stains his ivory breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look, yonder his herald, plump Silenus, comes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points up the mountain over the gate through which</i> +<i>the Abbot passed.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Ho, that's the occasion of the trumpet blast!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—No need of casks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— No need of empty casks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is keel that draws five fathoms full.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—And where it anchors, there a reef appears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—And where it founders, there the—sea goes down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Its beak hath ta'en the color o' the wave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">First Monk</span>.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If Father Benedict had had the train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or been among the muleteers, I'd say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wonder Andrew couldn't find the wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Come on, Simon; let's go meet Macias.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—If we can't wine it we can dine it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—(<i>As he passes Leo.</i>) Bah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Dressed for travel, appearing at the corner of the dormitory.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Are they in sight yet?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— It was not the train.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas Father Benedict.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis stands as one stunned.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">What can it mean?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis crosses the court and takes a position at the corner</i> +<i>of the chapel near the gate.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—He never came as early as this before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Monk</span>—And see how worried Father looks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— I fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That some one has told Oswald of the dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he has fainted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>— I will loiter about.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With his eyes upon the ground the monk saunters over</i> +<i>toward the chapel steps and, apparently absorbed in</i> +<i>telling his beads, loiters about in order to overhear the</i> +<i>conversation. The Abbot enters, followed by Father</i> +<i>Benedict leading an ass. Green twigs are stuck about</i> +<i>the bridle. The Abbot appears thoughtful.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What do you mean by wolves?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Wild paws that prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the fold.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And by the fold, you mean—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The Church.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— These wolves live on the mountains here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—They do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And are not far?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Some are not far.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within an eyeshot of the peaks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have even made this abbey here their den?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Would make it so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And from these holy halls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal forth and prey—well, let us say, upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your flock?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—They have preyed there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Since when?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And with the fleeces wiped their heathen mouths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These wolves of Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Ay, wolves of Hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear what I say. Ah, Father, Father!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes we think our Lord is dead in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His enemies so thrive upon the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see the Devil's squatters on our lands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With deeds that seem to bear the seal of Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, everything they do seems blest of Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They plow and sow; God gives them sun and rain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fields wave green; the frosts are kept at bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They build their barns; Heaven holds her storms in leash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seems to slumber while the singing foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silver their scythes beneath the harvest moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the season plumps the golden ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Satan brings his sacks to get the grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God puts his sickle in and takes the crop.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Or sends a reaper?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Ay, sends Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When vines are bending and the song is heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Bacchus revelling in the bubbling must,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden trumpets of the sun in heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaim a festival and wake the skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angels come tripping to the foaming vats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, while the devils tread the vintage out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brim their bright casks with gushing purple meath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crown the crystal goblets of the saints,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the pulp to slop the swine of Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—In you I see an angel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— With a cask.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And in the abbey here I see the vat?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—A goblet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And in myself a—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Saint.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Ha! <span class="directline">(<i>Searching the Priest's face.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I do not understand you, Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Then I will put it this way: See this garb?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know I am a shepherd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes, I know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And tend a flock of sheep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I know you do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And sheep have wool?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Now we go afield.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do briers grow in pastures? <span class="directline">(<i>The Abbot nods.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">And have flukes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I see. You mean to say that flukes tear wool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—That's what I mean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— That, therefore, from the shears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fleece comes lighter to the shepherd's hands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And to the Master's.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Ha! but in this case—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For your insinuation I perceive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clearly, I think;—well, in this case, I say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It does not follow that the Master gets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less tribute from the flock; for, Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember this: When God's bright seraphim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Collect His revenues, it matters not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether it be your hand that pays, or mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Provided your hand pays, it matters not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Ah, now you leave your figure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— And take yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You climbed the mountain, then—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— To get my wool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And chop the brier?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— That belonged to God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Then tell me this: If it belonged to God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How then do you, His shepherd, claim the wool<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God's own flukes have pulled from his own sheep?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You do not understand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I think I do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I did not mean the brier was God's, but this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it belonged to God to chop it down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—The brier, then, has fallen?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Praise the saints.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You came to tell me how the blow was struck?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I stopped to tell you how I got my wool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You need not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Why?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You know?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I have not spoken since I left him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Well.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—How did you learn it, then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I had a seed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your coming was the sun, your words the shower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It could not help but put forth leaves and bloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Strange, very strange.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— To see a stalk with flukes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put forth a bloom? 'Tis not unnatural.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I do not understand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Nor I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— This:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How that a shepherd could believe a wolf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had suckled a lost lamb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What do you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—That it is strange that you, a priest of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could see an angel's track upon a slope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say: "Here went a devil up the rocks."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—It is too dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— 'Twill ever be too dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see aught but an angel in that gulch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—'Tis midnight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— No; for yonder peaks are flushed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there bright wings are wasting in the dawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Father, what do you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Closing his eyes.</i>) Listen, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In an old abbey down in Italy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There hangs an ancient chime of seven bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft when a child I heard them in the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing like angels in the Apennines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tones so blended, so harmoniously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tuned to the planets that, when twilight fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They were the echoes of the Pleiades.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those old, old bells! I hear them still sometimes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We children called them by the golden names<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Archangels wear. Well, in a storm one night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raphael went down. Some say a huge black hand<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Strangled him in his tower and hurled him down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And others say—mark, Benedict—that God—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Anathema!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— God's hand that shaped the spheres<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hung them in the belfry of the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ring through heaven an universal mass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And set the holy bells of earth in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And set our hearts in tune with holy bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, in the blue cathedral of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One chant might rise from hearts and bells and spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some say that His, God's hand, threw down that bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I say, anathema!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And so you think—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I think it was the foul hand of Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Ah?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since withered faces skir along the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might it have been some—witch?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I said the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that includes the fingers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— So it does.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well, Benedict, there you and I are one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hold that that which jangles God's great chime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether it strike a sphere or a bell or a heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs from the pit and hath its root in Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Ay, we agree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Then follow the same path<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you shall see your seraph of the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bleed out his strength upon the spears of dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas thought that Raphael's tumbling down the rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had wrecked his silver voice, and so he lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three years half-sunken in a slimy marsh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His golden throat choked up with water-weeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fetid lilies breathing of the swamp.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas said that oft when morning woke the bells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the heights, a drowned voice was heard,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A strangled booming in the marsh-fogs. Well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One Sabbath while the morning star still burned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lone white taper, on a sudden from his couch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient bellman started. The old chime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was singing in its tower, and, like a thrush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That eyeless hath escaped a narrow cage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of Raphael on his bough again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rang through the woods. The eagles on the crags<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook out their wings and circled in the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain shepherds shouted from the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While down the ether, flaming out of the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melodious angels in the sun-burst sang.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With his eyes burning and fixed upon the Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, Benedict, who lifted up that bell?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—'Twas God reclaimed it and restored His chime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And if that bell had been a—soul, who then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Still God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And if that soul had been— <span class="directline">(<i>Vehemently.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i65">Oswald?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>For a moment they look into one another's eyes, the Abbot</i> +<i>with a penetrating glance, the Priest with a look of</i> +<i>blank amazement. The Abbot quickly drops his head</i> +<i>and walks aside, his face almost white, the drawn mouth</i> +<i>and furrowed brow showing a mind in desperation, casting</i> +<i>about for an escape.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With rising resentment.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What does this mean?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The monk, who a few yards back has been pacing to and</i> +<i>fro in order to overhear the conversation, has stopped</i> +<i>and stands observing them. He has the same bewildered</i> +<i>expression as the Priest. The face of Louis near the</i> +<i>corner of the chapel reflects the palor and perturbation</i> +<i>of the Abbot's.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You put my faith to test? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">A damned insult!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>His brow darkens and he turns aside. Suddenly his face</i> +<i>lights up as with a revelation.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">Ah, I see what it means.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out with it, Father. Speak what God commands. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Before you speak I know what you will say. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Out of pure envy you are silent.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He turns away. While the Priest and the Abbot walk</i> +<i>about, each occupied with his own thought, Pierre and</i> +<i>his two companions approach and stand a few yards</i> +<i>away, observing them.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>With a glance toward the Priest</i>.) Out—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Without turning.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Of envy, or else fear that I would shrink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You need not, though.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Stopping.</i>) I fear that you would shrink?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—To you, too, my great honor has been revealed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I do not understand you, Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning and facing the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you hide it from me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— What are you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hiding from me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You feared that I would shrink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tear those jaws upon the mountain side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your dropping of your eyes shows I am right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking aside, composed.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I was not sure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Why did you think that God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had revealed it only to you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I was not sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That what I had in mind you had in mind.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And you thought you would feel about and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I knew it. And if I did not, "Truth, retire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not obtrude yourself on Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows the hunter's dream. If he cannot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discover whose hands those were the hunter saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reach through the green boughs of the Tree of Life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tear the hell-jaws from the holy deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not your fault. And I lose no glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is his own crass mind. He comes from Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Florence is Athens come to life again."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Envy, you think?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I know it. When you asked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hand it was that lifted up that bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew that you were feeling me about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see if I knew that the hand was mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I not known it, do you suppose I think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You would have told me? Of your own accord:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Benedict, God hath chosen you for this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be faithful to it. The glory is yours"? Not much.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You pride yourself on what you think is God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your erudition. But I know some things. <span class="directline">(<i>He walks aside.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—It is hard to know what another has in mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—It may be hard for the Athenians.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I am an old man, Benedict, and with<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White hair the eyes blur and the mind dulls. You,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vigorous in body and in intellect.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scale heights I cannot climb. Bear with me, then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I just now, forgetting youth is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ventured to tilt with you, is it not enough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you stand there triumphant while I here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie prostrate with my gray hairs in the dust?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He bows his head and walks to the rear.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a superior air.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Rome is Jerusalem, the city of God.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Biting down his smile, Louis advances, his face assuming</i> +<i>a doleful expression.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In a low voice, barely hiding his irony.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Don't treat the old man that way, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You do not know how keenly Father feels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The issue of this bout. Amazed I stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just yonder by the chapel steps and watched<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your spears break into fire. O Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What skill, what skill, what admirable skill!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—In dialectics I do boast some skill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Compared to Father's admirable skill!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a leer toward the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">For what I have I thank no heathen sage.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—With that composure which the gods must feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your reached your spear and slipped his lady's glove—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—His lady's glove?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— The secret from his heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spite of all his desperate guarding it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Guido comes from the dormitory with a large book under</i> +<i>his arm. As he passes toward the chapel he turns his</i> +<i>burden toward the Abbot, who gives it an unconcerned</i> +<i>glance and walks right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Why should he hide it from me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— I can't say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father is not a man to show his heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He no doubt had his reason for it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Humph!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—I do know, though, that Father admires you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Admires me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Scorns me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You are wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—How do you know he does?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Before you came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father had just conceived of a great temple<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With you in large space on the entablature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Opening his eyes.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">That is another proof he knew that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was to have part in that great enterprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And achieve glory. And he lied to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Abbot speaks to Pierre, who turns and goes out, right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You may mistake what Father had in mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He may have thought it would be policy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep you in the dark about this thing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—What cause had he to fear that I would shrink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To face the glory of the Lord that day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis only guilt that fears to face the Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You may mistake what Father had in mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Too subtle, I suppose, for my dull brain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—I do not think, though, that he envies you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You may have your opinion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You may not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mean you may not know what Father means.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You two know everything.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— I know one thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You would not have said, "You two know everything,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you had been here half an hour ago. <span class="directline">(<i>Walking aside.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">With you in large space on the entablature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—He need not think that God revealed to him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone my glory, for I knew it, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blood appeared on my hands the other night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while the congregation sat amazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The altar cups took fire, and a white dove—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To the Abbot, who has drawn near.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night the brother fell I saw some things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">During service would have made my hair stand up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I been less courageous than I am,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or less near God. You would have quaked with fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sought the books of some old heathen sage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For explanation. I—I went to God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the result that I am ready now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been shown the blood of that great hound. <span class="directline">(<i>He looks at his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And I have got God's meaning. I am called.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, when the chase starts I will make my way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the mountain tops and meet the Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He espies the wine vessels over against the dormitory wall</i> +<i>and goes toward them, pulling the ass by the bridle.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What did you come up here to see me for?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Stopping.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Come up to see you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You are here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I am. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It seems you don't know how I got my wool.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He continues his way across the court. Louis and the</i> +<i>Abbot whisper together. In the rear, from behind the</i> +<i>chapel, Macias, the hunter, enters with a young deer</i> +<i>upon his back, and at his belt a brace of geese. Simon</i> +<i>is holding one of the fowls by the tip of its wing, Basil</i> +<i>and Rene following.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—What'll you have, Simon?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Collops and sauce.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—Pluck-pudding or crupper?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Both, God bless us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Both!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Goose, too?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Ay, stuffed with plums.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Why, you just had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hunk of beef.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Sh! <span class="directline">(<i>He points to the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—(<i>Nudging him.</i>) Basil, see the twigs.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The jesters chuckle and come forward toward the Priest,</i> +<i>while the hunter and Simon pass out behind the dormitory.</i> +<i>The Abbot also approaches the Priest, followed a</i> +<i>few feet back by Louis.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>Huskily.</i>) Be wary, Father; it may be a snare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—A little wine will bring it to the light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—Well, it is spring when asses put forth leaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Ay, rue that devils flee from in the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(He looks into the casks.)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—But when you left the town the dawn was bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The dawn was bright?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— The day is two hours old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>After a long look at the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">When I rode out of town the sun's red car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood hub-deep in the western ocean's sand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met the morning on the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh dropt from heaven, with one golden wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright on the pines, the other softly sheathed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In valley shadows thinning round her plumes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night I spent far back among the hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For three hours in the darkness on the road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I staked my life upon the ass' step<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ass and life upon these slips of rue.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He thrusts his switch into the narrow necked diotas, and</i> +<i>drawing it out, feels the end.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If any manna fell upon the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Devil must have harvested the flakes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found none on the way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I fear the fiend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has washed it down with our good Tuscan wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dressed Hell's tables with the golden cups<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Abbot Boldi sent from Aosta.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tide is out and the Italian moon<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Has slipped her sphere that ruled the purple flood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are the empty shells that held the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre enters, carrying a flagon and a silver cup. Simon</i> +<i>follows him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have something, Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Ah, you are good.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What could have drawn you back among the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every pass was choked with drizzling dag?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I'm like a desert.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—(<i>To Basil.</i>) And there flows the Nile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The service of our Lord that knows no flaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mountains or darkness or the voice of storms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last night—Fill it up.—Last night God's—There.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last night God's dread apparitor— <span class="directline">(<i>He drinks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— What's that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Tasting his lips.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Rumney, isn't it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Not that—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With mock seriousness.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">Isn't it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I mean—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Pour me another, then; I'll taste again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre pours.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You said God's dreadful summoner—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Appeared.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clapped his irons on old—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He drinks and again holds the cup toward Pierre.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—One more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Don't think—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— The night is in my veins.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>To Rene.</i>) It's a dry night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Holding up the cup.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i4">But the red dawn is breaking— <span class="directline">(<i>He drinks.</i>)<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Basil.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The abbey here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And lightening— <span class="directline">(<i>He drinks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>To Rene.</i>) The great deep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Come, sing the matins, Simon, for the dawn—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Don't think it is the wine I care for.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Ha!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cup, eh?—Take it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He hands the cup to Pierre and leads the ass back to one</i> +<i>of the benches, upon which he climbs and stands fixing</i> +<i>the saddle.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— A while ago you said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's dreadful summoner appeared.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +<span class="i13">(<i>Pierre goes out.</i>) Whoa!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Following Pierre.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Pierre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Just a tiff.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— No, I say.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Supplicating.</i>) Brother! (<i>Spitefully.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Dinky! Bed-bug! Pizzle-wizzle! <span class="directline">(<i>With a grimace.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i31">U-g-h! <span class="directline">(<i>He spits at him and turns back.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who has mounted.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Now if you get my switch, I think I'll go.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>One of the monks stoops and picks up the switch, which</i> +<i>he hands to the Priest, who looks from the Abbot to</i> +<i>Louis and then from Louis to the Abbot.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You see, I could ride off without one word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Without one word of what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Contemptuously.</i>) One word of what!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You think I came from town and so does he.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What of it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Simply this: that I did not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—We are glad to have learned that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Delighted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Humph!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you don't wish to know where I have been?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—'Tis immaterial.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— That is another proof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You envy me. First, you conceal from me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That which you feared would blow my name abroad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now you fear to hear where I have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because from what you know of me you know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever comes I meet events as friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never sally out but I return<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With spoil, and that stirs up the green in you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now I will tell it though the heavens fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Hartzel's dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I find no joy in that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Of course, you don't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—(<i>Calling across the court.</i>) Old Hartzel's dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Under his breath.</i>) Thank God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The monks upon the chapel steps and others sitting about</i> +<i>upon the benches start up and gather forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You don't think I told that to give you joy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—It matters nothing to me in either case.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—But this will matter something. Listen now.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Leaning over and speaking in the Abbot's ear</i>.)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I get his forty neat and all the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the river and the raddle-hedge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">South of the village, with the acreage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tilth and vines that fronts the rising sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near the White Torrent. Does <i>that</i> give you joy?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He strikes the ass with the switch and starts left.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Aloud.</i>) Thank <i>God!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>) This is the work of Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Stopping.</i>) You mean that as reproach?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I simply mean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We had no hand in this; the glory is yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Come with me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He rides on toward the gate. The Abbot walks beside him.</i> +<i>Louis, behind, where he cannot be seen, follows them.</i> +<i>The bell rings and the monks move toward the chapel</i> +<i>and enter, leaving the court bare.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You remember, I suppose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we clashed spears a while ago I said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The abbey here was a goblet, and you a saint.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might say that I spoke in irony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that would not be nice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And you said, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something about an angel with a cask.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—That is a cut at me. I recollect.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said that I would fill your cup.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Proceed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Leaning over.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Of this estate you get one cow. You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's a fine liquor, eh, Father? (<i>To the ass.</i>) Come up.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre comes from the dormitory and crosses the court toward</i> +<i>the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You are an old man and your work is done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may retire now and live on milk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill nourish that great intellect of yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Under his breath.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">As well as anything that you could give.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I welcome anything that can do that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—If it be heathen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict, before you came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Louis and I were talking of the things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That late have happened.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— The dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Oswald's fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his unnatural rescue from the gulch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—'Twas <i>super</i>natural, not <i>un</i>natural.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—A nice discrimination, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do not see as you do. You were trained<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By masters who, no doubt, had they heard this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distinction, would have said: "<i>Benissime!</i>"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Superciliously.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Well done is <i>optime.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>With mock humility.</i>) Just so—just so—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My master would have said—yes, <i>optime.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">A boon it is that words cannot change things.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre, who has climbed the steps slowly, listening the while,</i> +<i>enters the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You feared that I would shrink to play my part?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—We feared if you should learn what your part is—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—That I would shrink?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— If you should learn your part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Getting angry.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You feared that I would shrink?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Hesitatingly.</i>) W-e-l-l—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>Say</i> it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shaking his finger.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in your heart you wish I would, old man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twould fill your soul with joy. But mark you this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give you joy is not my destiny.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He rides out through the gate.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Your destiny, Benedict, is in God's hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Thank God it's not in yours. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You must go down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oswald, by noon, will have finished up his work.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stay with him till he does, then bring him back.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—If I go now, though, Benedict will suspect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something is up.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Abbot goes toward the steps, Louis half following him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">As it is, he does not know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Oswald has returned to work. (<i>A pause.</i>) Besides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After his long, hard ride he will want rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will not go near the church. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i32">What do you say? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I will go after service.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— (<i>After a pause</i>.) Very well.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He enters the chapel, followed by Louis.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—A street in the village showing a low</i> +<i>thatched cottage with a door made accessible by steps.</i> +<i>To the left of the door is a small square open window, on</i> +<i>the sill of which are garden plants and pots of winter</i> +<i>flowers put there to get the morning sun. In the corner</i> +<i>of the yard, right, is a well with an old wooden wheel high</i> +<i>up on posts. At the end of the chain hanging from it is</i> +<i>a bucket from which water is leaking back into the well.</i></p> + +<p><i>Madam Valmy, the country-woman who has just come to</i> +<i>town and who has a basket upon her arm, has stopped</i> +<i>before the house and is looking intently left.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—Aunt Rachel!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—(<i>Back in the house.</i>) Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—(<i>After a pause.</i>) O auntie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Voice</span>— Yes, child, yes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I get this dough off. Rosa!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From the right, Madam Bacqueur enters. She is bareheaded</i> +<i>and carries a child in her arms.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Every day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some dark deed sends a shudder through all hearts.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Who is it this time?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— No one seems to know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It happened on the mountain, Rosa said.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—I wonder if Father Benedict has returned?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—Returned from where?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— He rode away last night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the mountains. I do hope and pray—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They stand looking left. From the right, Hugh Capet</i> +<i>enters hurriedly. Reaching over the fence to the well</i> +<i>he swings the bucket to his mouth.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You know so many strange and evil things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have happened lately. Just a week ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old mother Sar was palsied. Then young Foy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dead of night, saw witch-fire on the heath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next day two cows, their udders drizzling blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran snorting down the road into the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the village curs that ventured out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came yelping to their kennels cramped with fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though the devils chased them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Did you ever!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(To Hugh Capet who hurries out, left.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You will come back and tell us what it is?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—That all depends, Madam, that all depends.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—Indeed they did. And that's not all. Thursday<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A black stone fell from heaven. Father said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a challenge. And that very night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Occurred a wonder during complines. Yes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden chalices in the church took fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And circled round the altar. Blood appeared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Father's hands, and while all sat amazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looking to see him caught away to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snow-white dove flew through the trancept wall,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The Holy Spirit, Father says. You know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The canvass that they keep covering the cross<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Oswald carves, round that it whisked and moaned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Rachel says she heard the voice of Christ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the canvass: "It will not be done."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meaning the cross, I thought; but Father says:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Maybe it means God's will will not be done,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so it proved. Disaster came at dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierre, the sacristan of good St. Giles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought the news down to Father Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you have heard of the great miracle? No?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the world has heard of it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— You know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have not been to town since Sunday week.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—Oh, angels have fluttered down on us since then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will again, so Father says. La me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tell you, Madam Valmy, if any grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the churchyard there had jumped a horrid ghost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stalk the moonlight in a rotten shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There'd be less stir among the village folk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not how it was. It seems they found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dear monk, Oswald, bruised and bathed with blood,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"><p>(<i>She clasps her child to her heart passionately.</i>)</p> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lying before the monastery gate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—Why, Clotilde!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Yes, indeed. And <i>that's</i> not all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think we slept through all of it! To think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We did not wake and cry out, "God is here!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then run up and down and ring the bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, expectation kindles every bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For our Lord's coming.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Oh, everything!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How wonderful are mountains angels' feet<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Have trodden on! How beautiful the air!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, everything seems different to me now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I half expect to see the stone put forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A human face and speak to me of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear Madam Valmy, trees are not really trees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Father says, all things have passed away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the miracle the other night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Lord begins his reign upon the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hours I sit and look in my child's face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonder if he sees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Holding up her child.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i34">Fire! fire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O child, child, see the fields, the glory—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—(<i>To the right.</i>) Fire?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Entering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the fire?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—The crowd, you see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— Whose house?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—Rosa ran in and said some one was hurt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—Don't you go with them, husband.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The smith goes out, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i40">Jardin's been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trying to get the men to storm the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kill the heathen and the witch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Voice</span>—(<i>Back in the house.</i>) Rosa!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—She is not here. And he is still alive?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—There's not a night since the dear brother fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what I've heard her on the roof.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Clotilde!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—But oh, the Holy Ghost was with him. Yes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His staff they found next morning and his hood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thank God for that—they found his hood and staff<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the gorge, full forty feet below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain road.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Not over the steep gray bluff!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—Think of a fall like that! At break of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They found him at the monastery gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unconscious, carried there by unseen hands—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—What!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Yes, indeed. And those who found him saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Archangels sitting on the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With golden shields, and there were sounds of war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off as they were fighting in the clouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driving the witches off to hell, no doubt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—On <i>these</i> mountains?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— And even <i>that's</i> not all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Putting her arms about her.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Dear Madam Bacqueur.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— I get so dizzy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must have Rachel tell you. I won't fall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She takes hold of the fence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such wonders and such cures and things to come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dare not think of much less speak of that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such brilliance, la! You should see Father's face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How it lightens when he speaks of it. His eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look far away across the glory fields.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Bretheren, this miracle is but the blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fruit shall fall in fire upon the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray, all of you, that you may be perpared."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—For what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Catching her breath.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i13">I am afraid I—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Don't try, then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—There is a glory far off in the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father has seen it and his eyes are bright.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +<span class="i0"><i>So</i> bright. Rachel will tell you. Or it may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sees the pilgrims that shall gather here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This morning Marie heard two brothers say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's sure to be a shrine where Oswald fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of it, Madam Valmy, these streets thronged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With holy men that live beyond the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never even thought to pray for that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God does all things so easily, though. And—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all for his dear sake. But I don't know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Scriptures say Satan shall be let loose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—The shrine? Indeed I do.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the last days; in these days, then. Do you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— How good of you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You always did have so much faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— You know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day your child was christened—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Oh, how true!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How like a star his <i>name</i> will shine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— I now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Predict again. He'll be a saint.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In utter amazement.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i20">A—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Saint.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—You think he will? Oh, do you, Madam Valmy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you, indeed? Oh, think of what that means<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To little Oswald here! To wear a name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blessed saint hath worn and given him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his own lips at the baptismal font;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see a white hand beckon from the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear forever in each vesper chime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A saint's clear voice calling his soul to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flower out beneath the holy bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, think, Fidele, some day when he is old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his cloister yonder on the mountain,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When the dear brothers gathered after prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall talk of holy things, and one shall say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My father fought with Montfort in the wars";<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another: "I have seen St. Bavon's tree";<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some old palmer who hath seen all shrines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall tell of Subiaco and the thorns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of good St. Benedict, my boy can say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I grew to manhood in the little town<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the valley. I have never been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the mountains, but each day have heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morning and night, St. Giles' dewy bells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring from these towers the twilight hour of prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet was I favored. When they christened me"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I can see them wonder at him then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And press about him.—"When they christened me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">St. Oswald stood god-father at the font<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blessed me with his hands upon my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessed me and said: 'The Virgin keep this child.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A neighbor said his face shone like a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was so full of glory. And the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night the angels brought him from the gorge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laid him here before the abbey gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wore the holy hood my mother made.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They keep it yet inside the sacred chest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There in the chapel." <span class="directline">(<i>Faint shouts far to the left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i22">I am so afraid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jules will go with them. Would you mind if I—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The cottage door opens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have Rachel tell you of that awful dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She goes out, left. With a staff in one hand and screening</i> +<i>her eyes with the other, old Rachel comes sidling down</i> +<i>the steps. Madam Valmy sets her basket over the</i> +<i>fence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>—Clotilde? Marie? Oh, it's Fidele! Why, child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When did you come to town?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Taking Rachel by the hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i13">There's some one hurt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>—<i>Fidele!</i> You frighten me. That horrid word!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—The crowd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>— Where?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Down by the church.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>—Those heathen dogs. Are they in town? I fear—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go out, left.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE FOUR—Before the church which stands about</i> +<i>twenty feet back from the street. Low stone fences on</i> +<i>either side project in to its corners and form with its front</i> +<i>three sides of a hexagon. To the right, in a higher fence,</i> +<i>also of stone, which runs parallel with the street, is an iron</i> +<i>gate, overgrown with vines, leading into the churchyard.</i> +<i>Between the palings can be seen white crosses marking</i> +<i>the graves. In the corners, just where the fences start in</i> +<i>toward the church, stand Lombardy poplars in full foliage,</i> +<i>one on either side. The church is built of rough stone,</i> +<i>with irregular seams of white mortar. In the center is</i> +<i>an arched doorway and beside it two false windows almost</i> +<i>covered with ivy. High up over the door is seen the</i> +<i>lower part of a narrow louvre window with several long</i> +<i>straws, which the birds have carried there, hanging down</i> +<i>from between the slats.</i></p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> + +<p><i>In the open space before the church, a crowd is gathered.</i> +<i>Upon the steps with his back to the door stands Jardin,</i> +<i>the Bailiff. He wears a sleeveless hauberk wrought of</i> +<i>chain, and upon his head a heavy open helmet. Some</i> +<i>distance to the right, upon a step lower down, Jacques Sar,</i> +<i>wearing a leather corselet and a cap of wolf skin, is leaning</i> +<i>with his right hand against the church. His right</i> +<i>arm is off near the shoulder. The crowd is made up of</i> +<i>men, for the most part in their working clothes. Some</i> +<i>have no hats on. Among the latter is Hugh Capet, whose</i> +<i>red head is seen far in near the steps. Jules Bacqueur,</i> +<i>with his sleeves rolled up, stands on the edge of the</i> +<i>crowd. Out in the street to the left, is a group of women.</i> +<i>A boy is up in the poplar tree, right.</i></p> + +<p><i>As the Scene progresses, other villagers enter, among them</i> +<i>the women of the last Scene.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Was Jardin right last week when comrade's wife<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a motion toward old Jacques.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fell palsied and he said: "Let's kill the witch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next thing she'll strike some brother." Was he right?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was he? In here is a cross can tell you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the cross done? Can any man say why?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The holy monk that carves it, where is he?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up yonder on the mountain in his cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nigh unto death. Only the Virgin's hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That plucked him from the pit can save his life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who's to blame? Who is to blame, men? Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You men that shout to sail out to the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swell about the neck as vipers do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blowing against the Moslems, what do you say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the heathen on the mountain up there, eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twenty moons and more have risen and set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since they took up their station 'neath the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in collusion with the hag of hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook pestilence and death upon the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Planets have knocked and fire has fallen and blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has drizzled over all this region. Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What do you think our Lord thinks of these things?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rescue the mountains; they are His Sepulcher.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You want to see Golgotha? <i>There</i> it is.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mountain with a heretic on its peak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is like a spear thrusting a bitter sop<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Up to our Lord's lips even in heaven. You men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who see the sop and leave it there are Jews.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—They're Maccabees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— As for Jacques Sar and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll wear these arms—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Until the Judgment Day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Till our old bodies rot, or see those peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waved over with the banner of our Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you think you will live to see that chase.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know what I would do if I were God?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He draws his sword.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gabriel should pass over with his sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pierce some heart would bow all heads in tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then you would go shouting up the mountains. And<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If this keeps up, you mark me what I say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crosses will thicken out there on that grass.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points toward the churchyard. A man reaches out of</i> +<i>the crowd and touches him on the leg.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But eat and sleep, though. Feed your coward hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then die. And then what? Then the Judgment Day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after that, what? Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stoops down and the man talks with him in an undertone.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>— Who is it's dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Dead? All of us, he says, an the hag lives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—He's right, too.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—(<i>Entering, right, and hurrying to the</i> +<i>women.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">Is it Father Benedict?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Straightening up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It was for that that he rode back there. Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell them? What for? What good would that do? What<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do they care if the heathen keeps his land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see some of you here that yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was down at Bacqueur's. Do I? Do I see you?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Somehow it seems to me I recollect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearing as how old Hulga'd never strike<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man no more since God had saved the monk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And maybe threw her off the cliff herself.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did any of you hear that? Did you men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eh? No one, eh? So Jardin must have dreamed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well, in the dream then Jardin seemed to say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The hag will strike till we have dragged her down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her and her dwarf, Canzler, the big heathen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all his kith, and burnt them in the street."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—You got him in the church, Jardin?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— La, now!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Down with him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Was Jardin right again? Has Hulga struck?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd see the ass he rode you'd think she'd struck.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile ago here some one shouted out:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Who's in the church?" I've got the arrow strung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now I'll tell you, now I'll let it fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wine train's lost; three of the mules are dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two men were crushed to death; our Lord's dear blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witches have poured out on the mountain rocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, has she struck? You think she has, eh? Hugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What did we tell them? Jacques Sar? Bacqueur? Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Didn't we?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>—How did it happen, Bailiff?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Some one here asked if Canzler was in here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No. Yes. What if he were or what if he is?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You think I'd tell you and see you fall dead? (<i>Madam</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Valmy enters, right, leading old Rachel by the hand.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of the muleteers rode in for help.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He only spoke Italian. A friar, though,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told me his tale. Last night when the train reached<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Devil's Pass—'twas dark; the moon had sunk—Three<br /></span> +<span class="i0">withered hell-hags, with the skirring clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flying toward Pampeluna to their sabbath,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Lit on a gray crag. Lightning splintered blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About them, smells of sulphur rose, and thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clapped the dark rock. The mountain shook. Straightway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cries of the men rang out. The leaders crashed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumb-smitted with horror, mules and packs and all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down through the chaparral to the gowle below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The witches vanished. All the Pass was still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save through the night the golden chalices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clinking far down the scaur. Then on a sudden<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rosa, excited, runs in, right, and hurries to the women.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grisly hags, crooning a wild song, rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tossing the golden cups up in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a strip of mist went down the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward Pampeluna. What is the matter, women?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>—They say the hag's in town.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rosa</span>—(<i>In an underbreath.</i>) Sigurd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— The dwarf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Man</span>—They say the dwarf's in town.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—(<i>Deeply moved.</i>) Men,—!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Boy</span>—(<i>Up in the tree craning his neck.</i>) I see him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder he is by the bridge. He's got something<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shining in his hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—-(<i>His face paling.</i>) What was it the hunter saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his dream, men? What was it that roused the dogs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heathen dogs to chase the brother?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Feeling the tip of his sword.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">To-day God stains the trail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Shout</span>— Down with him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Wait.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Boy</span>—See it! See it flash! It's a dagger!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Shout</span>—Come on, men!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Stop them, Bacqueur! Knock them down!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring those fools back.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hugh Capet, out in the street, waves with his arm. The</i> +<i>men who rushed out, right, return sulky.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of Them</span>—Who is the coward now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Hush, Noel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Let's have no trouble, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Silence!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Man</span>—'Cause we ain't seen the wars—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Several</span>— Be quiet, Noel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Is that the way you fowlers take your birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush out and throw the net before their eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it? And when the wolves prowl for your lambs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You raise a shout before you stretch the string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you? Here's Jacques. You think he'd have this cap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he had yelled to the brute, "Watch for your skin,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rushed on him waving a club? Do you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eh? If you do, I tell you Jardin don't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'N I reckon Jardin's seen a wolf or two.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This dwarf of Hulga's, you don't think he's sly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you? Eh? Well, he is, sly as a newt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You touch the stones once and you'll see him gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's to be done, then? Listen to Jardin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deploy. You don't know what that means, do you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some of you here are burning for the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fight the Moslems. Just cry: "Allah-ho!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then rush on them, will you? Turks, ain't they?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Listen, men; I'll tell you what it means.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You've seen the falcon 'fore she strikes the hern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open her talons, ain't you? That's deploy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well, then we'll open ours. Three of you fellows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skirt the ford yonder and shut off retreat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the cave. There's one claw open. Halt, men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then two detachments—Here, attention, men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wait for your orders.—Then two squads of three<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +<span class="i0">March up that way— <span class="directline">(<i>He points left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i18">and when you strike the hedge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right! left! one along the wold; the other<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down through the waddy; each to the river.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we've got him flanked. There's three claws open<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bird is ours. Now listen. Listen men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You men that mean to cut off his retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take spears. He'll squawk we pinch him, and the old hen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearing her chick, will swoop down from the rocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then's your chance; stick her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Let Jacques have her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—I'll fetch her head back home to mother Sar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He and the Bailiff come down into the crowd.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—What if the heathen charge down on us?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Bah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—You think he'd leave that peak for all the world?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—After what's happened?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— After this shower of blood?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>—From that black planet came the thunder stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tore the field back there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— You think he would?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Now hear what Jardin says. If he could ask,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what he suffered in the Holy Wars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two gifts of Heaven, and two strong saints should soar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past the green steeples of these poplars here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fold their white wings in that street and say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Soldier, what are they?" What would Jardin say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First this: <span class="directline">(<i>He steps back upon the steps.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i12">Up yonder is a holy monk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom God has blessed above all living men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abaddon hurled him down to take his life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's bruised almost to death. Saints, bring him down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We're going to kindle such a fire here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As friends of darkness, glowering from the caves,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Shall see and then scoot shuddering to Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The crowd shouts.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bring him down, then, and let him see the flames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lick up the limbs that tripped him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>— You're right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—Let's bring him down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shouts</span>— Right! Bring him! Bring him down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Here, men, put on those caps. You think you're saints?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you can fly through air, why bring him down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can't, then hush and hear what Jardin says.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First then I'd say: "Bring down the monk." Then this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a big fellow on the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What calls Thor Father, spitting at our Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the dawn when Christians gather here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To holy mass he stands upon the peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scowls upon the bells. He and the witch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are brain and bowels to some heathen god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose dark hand works at night beneath the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sapping the towers of Christ. Saints, send him down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him to strap his big old martel on him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He comes down here he'll feel a damaskin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's sliced the Turks and choked the gates of hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ghosts of Allah, and another'll go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloody and hot to Thor. <span class="directline">(<i>Shouts.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i25">Send him down, saints.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some one here says, "If Canzler comes, what then?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll die. Who'll do it? Listen: Jardin will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes down into the crowd that surges and clamors</i> +<i>about him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Line up! <span class="directline">(<i>He chooses nine men, whom he arranges in squads of three.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— (<i>In the first squad.</i>)<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +<span class="i0">About those spears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Stop at the armory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He produces a great key.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You know your orders, do you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Chorus</span>—We do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Jacques.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lead.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>He hands the key to the old man, who puts himself</i> +<i>at the head of the first squad.</i>) +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i15">Bacqueur.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—No, no.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Capet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The two men put themselves at the head of the second and</i> +<i>third squads.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—March!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—(<i>Holding out her child.</i>) Husband!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They pass out, left. Madam Bacqueur looks after them</i> +<i>for a while, then lifts her skirt to her eyes and sobs</i> +<i>aloud.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>—Where are they going, child?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Line up now, men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll strike the front. Women, pray that the saints<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May bring the monk to see this devil burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And send the old warlock down. He will breathe hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I slit his entrails once and put this foot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his big chest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>As he goes along lining up the men</i> +<i>with his sword, the church door opens and, pale and</i> +<i>emaciated, the monk Oswald appears.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fidele</span>—Clotilde! Auntie! Rosa!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Women</span>—Look! Look! <span class="directline">(<i>They fall upon their knees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—What is it, women!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>—Look! Look!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The men cross themselves and fall prostrate. Old Rachel</i> +<i>and the Bailiff alone remain standing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Screening her eyes.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What is it, Rosa?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fidele</span>— Auntie! auntie!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She pulls old Rachel to her knees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Breath</span>—(<i>Through the crowd.</i>) His ghost!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—What is the matter?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>Upon hearing his voice,</i> +<i>old Rachel, who has continued to stare toward the</i> +<i>church, falls with her face to the ground.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>—(<i>In a low voice.</i>) Jardin, speak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—What is it? (<i>A pause.</i>) What is the matter?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Is that you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—What was that shouting?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>A silence ensues. The</i> +<i>monk puts his palm to his breast and coughs.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—(<i>Completing his thought.</i>)—these men aghast here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls up to Jardin's mind a night in the wars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we were storming Acre. The Infidel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sallying out, had laid the Lion Heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low in the dust. The waves of battle clapped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over his head. Barred in with dripping spears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Turk and Christian, raged the bleeding whelp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His paws red-clotted in his own hot blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleaving the gloom, a burst of crimson light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Streamed down the slanting spears and like a prow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolled back the waves of war. Between the crests<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of foam-white faces holy St. Augustine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came walking down the bodies of the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifting the Lion, fired him. At once<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose on the night the planet of his shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning a lane before his falchion fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the slope into the Turks he swept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through dropping shields and sabers thrown in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lurid streak of flame. So Jardin now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing this blessed monk the saints have brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Takes fire, and blown with hate of our Lord's foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will lick the crags and leap from peak to peak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall the flame go out until the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rain heathen ashes on the pit of hell.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Roused by the Bailiff's words, four or five of the men</i> +<i>spring to their feet. The rest rise slowly and remain</i> +<i>mute. Oswald comes down the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Knocking the men with his sword.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Line, line up! <span class="directline">(<i>A man points down the street.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— We'll fix him, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—He'll never strike no holy monk again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—We'll burn the imp!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Father shall see to it, too!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Bailiff strikes with his sword. The line marches right,</i> +<i>double-quick.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Excitedly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Stay, men! Lay no rough hands upon the boy. <br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>The line</i> +<i>halts. The monk puts his palm to his breast and coughs.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—No rough hands on—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— The boy has done no harm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night I fell—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— Here's Father Benedict.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They wait in silence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Ah, brother Oswald! (<i>He comes riding</i> +<i>in, left. The women bow reverently; the men bare</i> +<i>their heads.</i>) <i>Benedicite.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see my children gathered here about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How glad they are to see you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— And I, Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be at work once more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Praise the Virgin. <span class="directline">(<i>Dismounting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You show a Christian spirit coming thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bruised as you are, to do the Master's work.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I promised it should be done to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— And—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I have two golden letters to put on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—God hath his eye upon our altar cross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on you, too, my brother.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— God has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The angels do His will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—And even human hands—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He looks down the street.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— 'Twas marvelous.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I came down I passed the jagged cliff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You tumbled over, and there a while I paused<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entranced, as it were, by unseen Presences.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The boy, who climbed down from the tree upon the arrival</i> +<i>of the Priest, leads the ass out, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mountains wore a new and hallowed look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the morning light. I would give half my life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have stood upon the peaks that night and seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's ministers drop shining down the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blaze the gorge. But God works in the dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At night His golden ladders are let down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deeds are done and no man knoweth how.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At dawn we see the severed hills, the seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Huddled aghast at some vast mountain head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That yesterday lay fathoms in the deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So quietly He worketh in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mountain ranges rise and no babe wakes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can say: "Yonder God is"?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— None, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— None.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hand that executes His purposes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is hidden like the purposes themselves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dwelleth in the storm and in the calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet both look round and say: "Where dwelleth He?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun that shines on all, shines not on Him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He goeth forth at night and doth His will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the moon sees Him not. I rode along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking upon your providential<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Escape from death that night and of the work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath reserved for me in the great chase,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For half the glory is mine. I prayed our Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That if it be His will I might catch some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glimpse of the dogs far off. I could not see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hand before my eyes in spirit, but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyelids down, rode on, probing the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounding deep in my soul the ocean of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finding there bottomless waters.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night of ebony and the golden dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deed the past holds and the future's deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose half way up the sky and called across<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fathomless spaces: "Who are you?" And I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought answer: "Thou art Fall; and thou, with hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright with the morning and with frightened eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleeing the noise of dogs behind thee, thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art Resurrection and the Peace of God."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Connection I could find none. Stark and lone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stood upon the twilight fields of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strangers, each looking in the face of each,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When through the gloaming came a glittering link<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star-like with the image of our Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bleeding in silver on a silver cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A marriage ring that married them, and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in my soul knew the Eternal and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw Prophesy grappling the North and heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heathendom hiss and coil and loose her folds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then a voice filling the heavens: "Well done."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaking to me, for the glory is mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your crucifix has not been found yet?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And will not be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It must be in the brook.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had it in my hand just as I fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—'Tis in the hand of God where it shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the morning breaks of that great day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Heathendom shall tumble down to hell.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then it shall dangle bloody from the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the mountains shake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— What do you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The mountains trembled in the tempest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— When?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">During the great chase. (<i>A pause.</i>) Is it possible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You start upon the chase with darkened eyes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I do not understand you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Aside.</i>) Can it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have not told him of the dream? Mum, then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Brother Andrew told me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— And you understand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whom this dark calamity shall fall?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—It has already fallen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Already fallen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You think the stag is down, then, do you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Stag?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You think the chase is run?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Oswald looks at him blankly.</i>) You seem to think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dream has been fulfilled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I do. How not?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This last calamity fulfilled the dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Fulfilled? Nay, nay. The chase has not begun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bruised stag is resting in the grove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hounds of Hell have yet to strike the trail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when they do, my feet are on the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the loud talbot's baying shall be still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—You speak as one whose joy is in the chase.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Glaring at him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You mean by that that I—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I mean, Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You speak as those that chase the deer with hounds—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You mean to intimate that I lead the dogs?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—As hunters do. (<i>The Priest searches the monk's</i> +<i>face.</i>) You spoke of a stag and a trail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—To show you that the dream is not fulfilled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Have you not heard it, then? The train is lost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Thrown from the cliffs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— The witches did it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Blue devil-fire sputtered on the crags and sulphur—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Two men were struck by the hags.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— The wine, too, Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They've poured it all out on the mountain rocks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Old Hulga did it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Several</span>— And the dwarf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Crowd</span>— The dwarf, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a nod toward the church.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">One of the men who rode in town for help<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is with the clerk. <span class="directline">(<i>The Priest starts toward the church.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—(<i>Stepping forward.</i>) Can Jardin say a word?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One night at Acre when the camps were sick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smells of corpses tainted every breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jardin was pacing watch. Through the darkness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierced by the burial torches of the Turks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A smoke-thin shadow passed across the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the armies, blotting one by one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drifting death-fires of old Saladin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearer it came, and Jardin heard a moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And walking toward it found a Turkish lad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half eaten by hunger, in a fever trance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low-moaning piteously: "Dates, mother, dates."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Jardin say, Because the Turk's a boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll spare him? Did Jardin give him dates? No.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'd made a vow never to spare no foe<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of Mary's Son, so, like a starving hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Christian blade, drinking his little blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Licked up the crumbs that Famine's jaws had left.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Jardin right?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Our Paternoster says:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy kingdom come." How could the kingdom come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If heathens were allowed to—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— If the young Turk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instead of wobbling in a fever trance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As weak as smoke a breath could blow away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jardin had found astride a Christian corpse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holding his red dirk up against the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Allah's eyes and laughing at the blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had Jardin spared him then—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Then the red dirk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had hovered over your gray hairs like a hawk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until your day of death, and when your soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh from the holy lustral dews, had sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing toward Mary's bosom in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That red-plumed vulture swooping through the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had chased it down to Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Line up, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know not what you do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What does this mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—It means that Jardin is a soldier still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still fighting as a servant of the Cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never, while this arm can lift a sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will this sword ever spare a scoffing imp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To invocate the devils of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pointing to the gouts of holy blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the mountain rocks, say: "Aha, see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Master's slave bleeds as the Master bled."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pointing with his sword down the street.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The son of Satan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— It's the dwarf, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Solemnly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">God lifts the curtain and the Play is on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose last act shall unfold above the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Tempest and with Earthquake that shall shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hell to the very bottom. Seize him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Excitedly.</i>) No!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, no! The boy has done no— <span class="directline">(<i>Coughing.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Come on, men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bloody daggers drip on our gray hairs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chase us through the deep? Shall they? Come on!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The line swings off.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never will Jardin patch a truce with Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until her towers, stormed by angels' wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bow like Acre to the Son of God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Stop them, Father! Until I tell you!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Overcome with rage.</i>) This,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the worst I ever did hear. (<i>Looking about him while</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Oswald coughs with great distress.</i>) Men,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Seeing that all the men have gone, he shouts after them.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pile your wood here, men! We shall have sacrifice!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes toward the church.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Frantically.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father! Father! <span class="directline">(<i>He falls upon his knees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—A burnt offering. (<i>Oswald rises</i> +<i>quickly, his face full of horror, and flees in the direction</i> +<i>of the Abbey, coughing violently.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From the steps, calling after him bitterly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If Benedict, whose "joy is in the chase,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall "chase the deer with hounds as hunters do,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps this devil that goes up in smoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will drop somewhere upon the mountain paths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pluck your haunches from the talbot's teeth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray God he may, when Benedict turns hound.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He enters the church and closes the door.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE FIVE—The same street, projected to the outskirts</i> +<i>of the village. On the right, is a wagon bridge built</i> +<i>of logs. Some slabs, left over from the building of the</i> +<i>bridge years ago, lie in a pile at the roadside. Farther</i> +<i>back, across the river the course of which is marked by</i> +<i>a line of sycamores, the mountain rises abrupt and green,</i> +<i>with here and there patches of bare rocks and trees thickening</i> +<i>as it extends back and up. Away to the center and</i> +<i>left, a stretch of bottom land with cultivated fields.</i> +<i>One gets a nearer view of the snow-capped peaks seen</i> +<i>from the mountain side in the first Scene and from the</i> +<i>courtyard of the abbey in the second. In the foreground</i> +<i>at the roadside, is a large olive tree with its dark shadow</i> +<i>lying directly beneath it, for over the landscape is a clear</i> +<i>light as of a noonday sun shining from a cloudless sky.</i></p> + +<p><i>Under the tree, with several willow baskets strung together</i> +<i>lying upon the ground beside him, sits the dwarf, Sigurd,</i> +<i>polishing Oswald's silver crucifix upon his knee. He</i> +<i>holds it out in a bit of sunshine that falls through the</i> +<i>leaves and, after flashing the light about, resumes rubbing</i> +<i>it upon his trousers.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Left, shouting as to men far off.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Close in, men! Close in!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The dwarf rises to his knees and looks in the direction of</i> +<i>the town. Then, hiding the crucifix in his bosom, he</i> +<i>comes out in the road and looks in the opposite direction</i> +<i>as though trying to discover who it is they are after.</i> +<i>Stones strike in the road and go clattering across the</i> +<i>bridge. A moment later Jardin and his men come</i> +<i>rushing in.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of the Men</span>—(<i>With his hands to his mouth, shouting</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>across the river.</i>) We've got him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Fellows!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He makes for the pile of slabs. Several of the men follow him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—We can get shavings up at Bacqueur's shop.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They load themselves with slabs. Jardin, who with the</i> +<i>dwarf is in the center of the crowd, suddenly holds aloft</i> +<i>the silver crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—You know who threw him down now, don't you, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Cry of Rage</span>—Devil!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Don't knock him, men. This is God's work.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Down with him! Burn him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Fetch your slabs, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>— Come on! <span class="directline">(<i>They start toward the village.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shouts</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From over the river.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Look out! Look out!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The men carrying slabs glance back, then throw their loads</i> +<i>down and go fleeing toward the village.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>— Men! Men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The crowd flees, leaving Jardin holding the dwarf by the</i> +<i>collar standing in the road.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—(<i>From across the bridge.</i>) Let go that boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—This is a day of miracles. <span class="directline">(<i>Canzler enters.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i64">Heathen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between us is a grave. <span class="directline">(<i>He lays his hand upon his sword.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Let go that boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Advancing to meet him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">With Christ in one hand, and in the other this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler draws his sword, and a duel ensues. The Bailiff,</i> +<i>protected by his armor which Canzler has twice struck</i> +<i>and failed to pierce, lays his blows on as though he</i> +<i>would end it all at once. Canzler deliberately draws</i> +<i>back into the shade of the tree. Lunging madly, Jardin</i> +<i>follows him. The villagers reappear with stones in</i> +<i>their hands, and try to get where they will not hit Jardin</i> +<i>when they throw.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Run him through, Bailiff! Run him through!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—(<i>With a lunge.</i>) There!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Cry</span>— Ha!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler has parried the thrust, and his sword has passed</i> +<i>through the chain hauberk deep into the Bailiff's breast.</i> +<i>The latter staggers back, his astonishment that steel</i> +<i>armor should be pierced by mortal sword giving way</i> +<i>to a look of chagrin, and after endeavoring to steady</i> +<i>himself with the blade of his sword, falls flat, his armor</i> +<i>clanking on the road. The villagers drop their stones</i> +<i>and flee terror-stricken. Canzler stands for a moment,</i> +<i>wipes the perspiration from his brow, then reaches down</i> +<i>and takes up the Bailiff's sword by the point.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Swinging it around his head and hurling it toward the village.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">You men in steel!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes back under the tree and gets the baskets and comes</i> +<i>out into the road. The dwarf stoops to pick up the</i> +<i>crucifix that lies in the dirt about a yard from the</i> +<i>Bailiff's hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Canzler— Nay, let it lie, my boy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He takes the boy by the hand and they return across the</i> +<i>bridge. The Bailiff stirs, lifts himself to his elbow,</i> +<i>and stretches his hand toward the crucifix. He cannot</i> +<i>reach it and falls back and lies still.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_FOUR" id="ACT_FOUR">ACT FOUR.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—In the cavern, as in Scene two of the second</i> +<i>act. The spinning wheel stands against the wall and</i> +<i>above it from a peg hangs a heavy skein of black wool.</i> +<i>The baskets lie upon the floor. To the right of the low</i> +<i>fire, a heap of chips, pine cones, and broken limbs. The</i> +<i>cave is quite dark.</i></p> + +<p><i>From the left the gnomes enter stealthily, one after another.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—The same night.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—(<i>Huskily.</i>) Gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—(<i>Calling back.</i>) Gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—(<i>To the left.</i>) She's gone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Gimel enters and, after him, Suk. Kilo crosses the cave</i> +<i>and stands listening.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—(<i>Stopping.</i>) What is it?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Gimel puts out his hand, palm back, warningly. Suk stops.</i> +<i>Suddenly, to the left, a sound of whistling is heard.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Huskily, to silence him.</i>) Zory! (<i>The whistling stops.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning back.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It's a frog booming on the river bank.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—The villagers should hear it they would squeal:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ave! Ave!" and hurry to the church<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take their pennies to the Priest. Curse them!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>While the rest snoop about the cave in search of food, Kilo</i> +<i>puts some kindling upon the fire, and getting down upon</i> +<i>his knees, blows it into a flame. He then stretches</i> +<i>himself out upon the floor, and proping his head upon</i> +<i>his elbow, begins to poke in the ashes with a stick.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Gimel, you're mad because your monk's alive.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Zip goes out right on tiptoe.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—I wonder if Granny knows we killed the bat?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—I haven't had a bite since.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— Yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found a cricket down among the stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still numb with winter's cold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—(<i>Fearfully.</i>) What is it, Zip?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Nonchalantly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Gimel, if the monk was sleeping there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Granny's couch and you had Loki's sledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think you could kill him?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— Sh!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Kilo sits up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>— Zip, what is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Re-entering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It's going to storm. The clouds are scudding fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thick and dark, brushing the mountain tops.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—She gets the owl, she'll be here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Kilo lies down. The other gnomes, as if fearing the entrance</i> +<i>of the witch, walk, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— Better get up.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—She'll flog you, Kilo, if she finds you there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—I'll play I'm Sigurd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— Then she'll drub you sure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see these baskets here? To-night at dusk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boy crept tiptoe to the entrance there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And threw them in. I holloed at him: "Hey!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd better run! Granny's been looking for you."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Kilo rakes a coal from the fire and blows the ashes from</i> +<i>it.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—You say the wind's up, Zip?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— It's going to storm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Looking among the dry herbs.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a leaf of Odin's helmet here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Gimel! <span class="directline">(<i>He blows the coal.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Suk.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">She's taken it with her. She knew<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +<span class="i0">If we should get out in the air—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— Come here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—She'd never see us in this cave again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the left, in a monotone.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">A rat and a cat and a cat and a mouse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—I wonder when she's going to make us broth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—She said we'd be as thin as chestnut leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before she put the cauldron on again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—How can we toil when fire won't burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Loki's hammers are soft as lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her charms all fail wherever we turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When blight won't gather and murrain won't spread?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can we toil when there's not a Nix<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But turns to stone at a crucifix?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From the left, Zory enters.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—What are you chewing, Zory?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— Slippery elm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—She's scared herself at the pesky thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often as here by the coals she's sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crunching her pignuts and stroking her cat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a time I've heard her say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Thor's arm shriveled that April day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When out of a cloud in a thunder shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He threw his bolt at the tall gray tower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shivered a poplar tree near by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The church stood sound with its cursed crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the god went bellowing down the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clutching his shoulder in terrible pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now he rides to the east and he rides to the west—So<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Granny says—and he's never seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lashing his goats through the driving rain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark and fireless the clouds drift round;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their waters fall without any sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's Hoder that drives them now, I ween.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Leaving the herbs.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">She'd left a slip of the Devil's herb,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Skipping to the right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You'd see me sweeping along the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd straddle the moon and ride her down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Be quiet, Zory.—You'd better not. You hear?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Zory goes out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—The fairies too are bolder now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every hour you can hear them call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From forest and bracken and water-fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even at midday, when I've been clearing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ore from the mountains and stood a peering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through cracks in the cliff, I have seen them at play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Catching the drops of silvery spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Running with emeralds and amethysts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the stones where the purple iris rests.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hands to their mouths, from the mossy ledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They boom to the bittern far down in the sedge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the river bank. They are in the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woodland and water—everywhere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—And there's not a place even down in the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter how dark, but that elves are found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering and prying, their little eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darting and glancing like fireflies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—They say that's the cause of Loki's fright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—And well it might be, if this tale is true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeping he lay on the ground one night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had guzzled his fill of Granny's brew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, thinking he heard his bellows blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He opened his eyes and spied the glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flames on his forge, the sparks a leaping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a score of elves—-they thought him sleeping—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On trough and anvil and on the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clapping their hands as they fell around.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he stirred, when lo! there was not a spark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bellows was still, the stithy was dark.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Rising quickly to a sitting posture.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The tale is as true as the master's steel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here on the stones I lay that night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curled like a cat in the fire-light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While there by the wall with a whirring sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Granny's old spinning wheel went round.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It whirred and it whirred so I could not sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I lay and yawned and began to peep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nudge the fire, for the night was cool.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the big wheel the wether's wool<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran black, the dame's foot under her skirt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paddling the pedal for Sigurd's shirt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wheel stopped a moment, and during the hush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had dropped to a doze, when there came a rush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the coldest air that ever warped skin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Loki, frightened, dashed up and in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the rift in the rocks. <span class="directline">(<i>He rises to one knee.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">His face was white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the smut upon it showed black as night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his limbs were so weak that he almost fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he got his breath he began to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, roused from his sleep by a noise in his shop—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Granny spied me and nudged him to stop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the two went out. I leaped to the ledge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And peered through the crack. Far up on the edge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the cliff where the hazel bushes grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pines were glossing; the gnomes, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were choking the caves to get in the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hide in the dark lest they should be found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Balder should roll his bright wheel on high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already his lances waved in the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bedabbled with blood. The heavens were pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the peaks were bright with his burning mail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lost not a trice. As quick as a wink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rushed to the roots and out through the chink<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With the Devil's herb I followed the pair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darting invisible through the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I squatted toad-like on the turf and heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Them babble their plans, heard every word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard Granny wheeze and the master say—As<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they rose from the rock and turned away—"We<br /></span> +<span class="i0">must nag on the gnomes or the cross will rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They must take the monk's life or put out his—"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>—(<i>Rushing in.</i>) Look out!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He dashes out, left, followed by the other gnomes. From</i> +<i>the right, the witch enters. In her right hand she holds</i> +<i>a big black owl by the wing; in her left, a large club.</i> +<i>She is tall, raw-boned, and weasened. Her hair is of a</i> +<i>stringy gray, and a skein of it hangs upon her cheek.</i> +<i>Her breath comes short, and there is a wheeze in her</i> +<i>voice.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Witch</span>—What's this? Burning my wood? <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i15">Sigurd! Ay, ay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd better hide, you lazy, crooked dwarf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll pay for this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She throws the owl down, and taking the sticks from the</i> +<i>fire, beats the flames out upon the floor.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">You'll pay for this, I say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll gladly sleep upon the coldest stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you'll not close an eye. You'll moan all night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dragging your red-puffed soles across the floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beg the gnomes for snow. I'll teach you how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To burn my kindling up. Here I must trudge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the blasted cliffs day after day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strip bark, drag brush, break limbs, and gather cones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the pines, the bait of all the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And barely get enough to heat my brew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here you'll lie roasting your wretched bones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll warm your cursed shanks. I'll put your feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blister on the red-hot coals again<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And flog you limping up the rocks for wood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hanging up the baskets.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the monks take the geese. They're out there now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flapping their wings and gaggling at the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To call the Christians down. You'll keep their necks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll swear by father Thor you fetched them up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And penned them in the lot. I'll beat you, though;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll whale you with these rods until you're sore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She piles her wood against the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the monks steal the geese. You'll gather wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll find it scarce, I vow. There's not a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You're by the stream. You're up among the crags,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beating the eagles from the new-dropped kids.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You feed the woodman's ewes. You hunt the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sorrel-grass to see the lambkins eat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never drain an udder for my sop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bring me honey from the gum. Sneezeweed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never dig or nightshade from the marsh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You play among the logs. My nuts and corn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You steal to feed the striped chipmunks with.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day you're in the wood or on the slope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listening to hear the noisy Christian bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You love the damned sound. You love the monks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You fetch them pine knots from the big green ridge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To singe the gnomes and light their altar fires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You've learned to fumble buckeyes on your breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll teach you how to pray. Ay, ay! You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll weave my dwarf a cowl. Ha, ha! You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigurd! I'll get you in the morning.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A rumble of thunder.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Eh?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thunder again.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, ay, Thor! I'll have them there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gnomes! Gnomes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zip! Gimel! Kilo! Lazy broth-suckers!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's work for you, you knaves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work and broth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(<i>Louder.</i>) Broth, I said! You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zory, you scamp!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Feeling about her dress.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i19">Hear what I say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kilo! Suk! Gimel! Here's broth for you!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In an underbreath.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If you'll work.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You don't, I'll lamn you, you toads.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, peak about! peak about!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thor wants you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The gnomes enter timidly, half-afraid.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Whimpering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'm hungry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Witch</span>—Hungry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out in the air with you, then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suck the lightning's dugs! Guzzle in the rain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Low muttering thunder.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hear that? Can you? Can you bark?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, ay, Thor!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As the thunder dies away, the gnomes rush wildly toward</i> +<i>the witch.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, here's your herb!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out with you now, every last one of you!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Giving him a leaf.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Up with you! <span class="directline">(<i>Zip disappears.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i13">Kilo! There you go!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Kilo disappears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Suk! Now Gimel! Now you can get him!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The gnomes, taking the slips, disappear.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, ay! Chase the monk! Crack the big bells!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck up the pines and knock the steeples down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Rushing in.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Me too, Granny!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Witch</span>—Ay, you scamp! <span class="directline">(<i>Giving him a leaf.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Bark now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skedaddle in the air!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>—I'll straddle the moon and—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He disappears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Witch</span>— There you go!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, straddle her! Ride her through the clouds!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There they are, Thor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now for my dwarf. <span class="directline">(<i>Picking up her club.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'll bruise him a little. <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Sigurd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll get you. <span class="directline">(<i>She goes out, left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—The scriptorium in the dormitory of the abbey.</i> +<i>The walls are of stone. In the left wall, near the</i> +<i>corner, a door opens into a hall that leads thence to the</i> +<i>courtyard. Near it, forward, an enormous chest with</i> +<i>metal trimmings and handles of embossed stags' heads,</i> +<i>the antlers gradually disappearing into the panel. Upon</i> +<i>the chest, as though thrown there carelessly, lies a heavy</i> +<i>cloak. About ten feet from the door, against the rear</i> +<i>wall, stands a small priedieu covered with a rich altar-cloth</i> +<i>interwoven with the figure—seen in old arras—of St. Giles</i> +<i>sitting upon a rock with the deer resting its head in his</i> +<i>lap. Behind the deer is a clump of brambles. The</i> +<i>kneeling piece, which projects from under the folds of</i> +<i>the altar-cloth, is of dark wood highly polished. Upon</i> +<i>it is a scarlet cushion. A little above the priedieu, in a</i> +<i>semicircular niche in the wall, is set a bronze crucifix some</i> +<i>ten inches in height. Before it burns a small taper. Farther</i> +<i>to the right, a second door leading into a corridor</i> +<i>which connects with the sleeping apartments. Between</i> +<i>this door and the priedieu are shelves filled with books and</i> +<i>old manuscripts. Beyond the door, which swings in and</i> +<i>is partly open, an old buckler hangs upon the wall, and beneath</i> +<i>it, upon two iron spikes, a long spear. Between the</i> +<i>spear and buckler is fixed a parchment cut mitriform and</i> +<i>bearing in large illumined letters the inscriptions</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh de</span> +<span class="smcap">Buillon cum deo et cum godefrido nicaeis antiochiis</span> +<span class="smcap">hierosolymis mil nonag sept oct nov.</span> <i>Farther to the</i> +<i>right, in the corner, a Saracen coat-of-mail filled with</i> +<i>spears which, converging center and spread out above and</i> +<i>below, look like a sheaf of steel. Across the breast of the</i> +<i>coat-of-mail is a strip of parchment with the inscription</i> +<i>illumined as before</i>: A <span class="smcap">MOHAMED FILIO SATAN CHRISTO</span> +<span class="smcap">FILIO DEI</span>. <i>In the right wall are apertures of two deep-set</i> +<i>windows, near which are three carrels, each with an old</i> +<i>manuscript spread out upon it and ink-pots and other copying</i> +<i>and illuminating materials. Hanging beside them are</i> +<i>finger rags smeared with various colored stains. On one</i> +<i>of the carrels lies a sprig of flowering mountain laurel.</i> +<i>Near the center of the room, a few feet to the right, stands</i> +<i>a long table running parallel with the side walls. It is</i> +<i>overstrewn with old manuscripts, some of them discolored</i> +<i>and half unrolled; others, near the forward end, piled in</i> +<i>the form of a miniature pyramid. Farther back, a small</i> +<i>brass lamp, pitcher-shaped and with a wick protruding</i> +<i>from its spout, burns with a yellow flame. The room is</i> +<i>but dimly lighted, as a large room would be, with a single</i> +<i>lamp burning upon the table and a little taper winking</i> +<i>in the niche in the wall.</i></p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> + +<p><i>To the right of the table, in a square, high-backed chair with</i> +<i>animal-feet, sits the Abbot in a black gown, bareheaded.</i> +<i>His feet, which are under the table, are cased in slippers</i> +<i>of sheep-skin with the white fleece still upon it. From his</i> +<i>right hand, which hangs beside his chair, a scroll of parchment</i> +<i>trails upon the floor. Farther back, upon the opposite</i> +<i>side of the table, stands the Priest, his left hand resting</i> +<i>upon the back of a chair the front legs of which are</i> +<i>raised a few inches from the floor. At the further end</i> +<i>of the table Oswald is standing with his finger wiping</i> +<i>away the tears that trinkle down his cheeks.</i></p> + +<p><i>Thunder is heard intermittently, and from time to time the</i> +<i>windows are shaken by the violence of the wind.</i></p></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>White with wrath, turning to the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Endorse this, Father?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Father, I did not say it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—<i>Ira</i>, Benedict, <i>altis urbibus</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Causa cur perirent</i>. Let him explain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I say, do you endorse this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I did not say it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I endorse nothing till I hear both sides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I gave you both sides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Sit down, Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You think I'd sit down with these things<br /></span> +<span class="i4">spread here, <span class="directline">(<i>With a wave toward the manuscripts.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And Christ thrust yonder in the little niche?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not while I have in mind the first Psalm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You seem to have forgotten what αγαπαω means,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As found in that third chapter of St. John.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He lays his parchment upon the table and reaches over and</i> +<i>takes a book from the pile at his right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Not while I have in mind the first Psalm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning over the leaves of the book.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i11">If<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You thought more of the Gospels—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—-(<i>Sarcastically.</i>) As heathens do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What is it to be a heathen? Is it not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To act unchristlike?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What is it to be a dog?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I did not say that Father was a—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just now you did confess—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I said you spoke—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Spoke</i> as hunters—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<i>That's a lie!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be circumspect, lest in your anger you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bay at him and turn that which you do scorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I scorn the imputation which his pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Popped at me. As though all the saints in heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed down to him because the other night—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Turning away.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, but God hates the proud man!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And, therefore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wisdom doth bid you keep an open ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the scroll of judgment still unsealed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For how shall Mercy find the iron leaf?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will Heaven's book be open if we close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours? When men cry to us, if we shut our ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shut out Heaven's whispers. Oh, nothing—Of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">all the deeds men do that vex the sky—Nothing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">so rankles in the heart of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to see lips, fresh come from prayer for grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refusing justice.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Priest has walked forward at an angle from the table</i> +<i>and stands with his back to the Abbot. Reaching under</i> +<i>his gown, he draws a dark string across his breast and</i> +<i>begins, seemingly, to untie a knot. The Abbot regards</i> +<i>him in silence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">Will you hear him?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Gruffly.</i>) Go on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—No, Benedict; do it dispassionately.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You say God hates the proud. So he does. Yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrath is more perilous to a man than pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For while pride turns a man's face to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis wrath that shoves him where the thunders fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Under his breath.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drop some thunder on you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Now, my son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak as though angels heard you. 'Tis almost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midnight, and the Sabbath draweth nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the Priest.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Do you hear?—He shuts his ears. Proceed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering that truth is God's own bread.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hungers for it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Oh, I have not lied!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not say that Father was a dog.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I know you have not, Oswald. The three years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you have been here never have been stained<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pride and falsehood. Those that now malign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God knows where they shall go when the end comes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I will explain just how it came about.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, if you think I have done Father wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me and let me do penance for it. I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not be here long.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— My son!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkness gathering round me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Don't say that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will be well again. You will be strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some day, my son, and many years shall pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the Lord calls you. Hath he not given proof?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shepherd to you, surely God hath been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three nights ago at this time, where were you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lying down in the gorge, and the night wind<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Passed and you knew it not. But God watched there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sent his servant—for all things serve Him—And<br /></span> +<span class="i0">here you are safe in the fold again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That deed unclasped a volume of bright days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God doth not put his hand forth and lift up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he hath lifted you, and then cast down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the knees be straightened. Your tears should fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For joy, my son, not sorrow. Think how near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your foot was to the gates of darkness when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God turned your face around and there flashed out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A jeweled finger pointing toward a dawn—Far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">off it may be or it may be near—When<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the last shred of darkness shall vanish.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let those that hound you, fear, for God shall cleave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chasm in the earth for them; but you—No,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">no, my son, not darkness, light. God's light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glory from the new Jerusalem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will shine upon you on the mountain tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If dreams are tapers lighting what is to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As some believe they are.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Priest reaches under his gown and takes something in</i> +<i>his right hand, and with the other draws the string from</i> +<i>around his neck and drops it into his right hand, after</i> +<i>which he pulls the sleeve down over it till only the</i> +<i>knuckles are visible.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i26">Therefore, my son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lift up your face and let white words go forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And usher in the Sabbath. Truth in the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fire under water, but on the lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It lighteth every man the Way of Life.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Priest goes toward the chest near the door.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Benedict, will you do as Pilate did?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Is he the Lord?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— He is—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Then who are you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—He is a child of our Lord's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— So am I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—So you are, Benedict, a full grown child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Even if I don't pray here<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a disdainful motion toward the priedieu.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— A full grown child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Large enough, one would think, to have slain the wolf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hate in you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Priest takes up the cloak from the chest and begins to</i> +<i>put it on.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">Is it the truth you fear? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You dare to go out under the open sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hatred in your heart, a night like this? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If you go now I know the reason why.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You fear to lay your heart down here and let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light shine on it with Oswald's, side by side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Over his shoulder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i14">Call a dog Father?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exasperating beyond word in this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conduct of yours. You come up here as one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose honor has been wounded, and you throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your charge down and when Oswald takes it up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To answer it, you will not hear him, but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You slink away. A travesty on man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is he who has but one ear, and that filled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his own voice. <span class="directline">(<i>Rising.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i22">But I will settle this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My son, I now absolve you from all—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning quickly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i42">Hold!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He pulls his cloak around so as to hide his right hand, then</i> +<i>comes forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your haste to wash his heart is evidence—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You tacitly admit your charge is false<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the eagerness—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—What are you talking of?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Your eagerness to get out in the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Who said that I was going?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To Oswald.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i41">Now then, you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay your heart down under the lamplight here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will show a hunch-backed devil in it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Tell us, my son, just how it came about.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let truth spring out upon the table armed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He resumes his seat.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—When Father spoke this morning of a chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stag pursued by hounds and things like that,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I simply said that—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—"<i>Simply</i> said!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I said—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I was one of the hounds, the talbot hound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That led the pack.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Why, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Advancing toward him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i38">You say that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A second time, and by the—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprinkled with eyes, a wheel of God's own car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attends our brother. You would best beware.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know God hath him circled round about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that that shall uproot the steadfast hills.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Through the door, rear. Louis enters, carrying a flagon and</i> +<i>a silver cup, his face showing terror. Seeing the</i> +<i>Priest, he stops suddenly as though amazed, then enters</i> +<i>slowly.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I care not were he nine times circled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Hell is, I would—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i25">Let me finish. Then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If with eyes open you will venture on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do it. The night is wild. Heaven hath shaken down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a pine upon the mountain tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And steeples too, no doubt, and towns, who knows?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man can tell what dawn shall look on. Even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This house of God—Hark how the thunders break!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds are playing havoc with the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Order frightened hath plunged into the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—The southern gable has been blown down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>After a look of surprise.</i>) And<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice in the mossed chapel tower the bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath rung, and no hand touched it; as it were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tocsin to alarm the world that Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath landed. Though the seas be blown away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the everlasting hills be tumbled down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In summer calmness still the soul of man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands like a fortress, sure against assault<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And terrible as a gorgon's head to Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adamant to all her engines. But<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let wrath break out inside, and crash! the gates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Tapping himself upon his breast.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i9">And Hell comes in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And Hell goes in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ravins there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—In me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— The lightning hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No power to strike a tree while the blue sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bends over it. But let the wrath of Hell<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Build up a cloud and fire it, and the tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falls shattered. But God calls the cloud away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And His winds blow it into nothingness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The tree is—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Oswald there. He stands secure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And the cloud—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You. You blacken over him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, charged with passion, make an atmosphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sulphur and in it, as in native air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hell slips her flame and the trunk tumbles down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To darkness. But God calls the cloud away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To judgment, and its shadow is seen no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you will venture further in your wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do it, for I have done. (<i>A pause.</i>) Very well, then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may resume, my—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I will undergo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever ordeal Father may suggest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will walk hot irons or put my hand in fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or anything.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You hear that, Benedict?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—He knows the Pope has banned the ordeal.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To Oswald with scorn.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">Brave!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I call the saints—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Louis.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">Do I look like a hound?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I said you <i>spoke</i> as those that hunt—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— By that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meaning that I should tarre them on him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>With a puzzled look.</i>) On<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—How did you come to say it, Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I grew up, Father, in a forest where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men used to hunt, and I have often sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In winter round their fires and heard them tell<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Tales of the chase. And so when Father spoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a chase my mind went back—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Did you say this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After he told you of the hunter's dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<i>I</i> told? I did not tell him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Instantly the Abbot frowns silence at the Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i55">Speak out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—<i>Non somnium venatoris.</i>—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— What dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Priest</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Contemptuously.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">As if he did not know it!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Agitated.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i27"><i>Ne—ne dic!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Non scit somnium.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Priest</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Opening wide his eyes.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i19">That's the trick, then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm to believe that, am I?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Father, what—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I'll tell you what. The hunter—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—If he don't know the dream, I'll tell him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Macias saw a pack of—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Striking the table.</i>) Will you stop?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Eum ad insaniam adiges.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Let it drive him mad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As though provoked beyond expression, the Abbot passes</i> +<i>his hand across his brow and casts a scornful glance toward</i> +<i>the Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Oswald, you go back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into your cloister.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Drive who mad, Father?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You. The hunter saw the furious<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hounds of Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chasing you up a mountain, while a storm—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Benedict, God's curse—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— On his enemies?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— On—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Stretching out his right arm.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">On those that aid them?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes, and on—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Him, then.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From his right hand he drops the silver crucifix and, with</i> +<i>the forefinger of his left, points at Oswald. The latter</i> +<i>starts, shrinking in terror from the curse. The Abbot</i> +<i>and Louis, dumbfounded, stare wide-eyed at the crucifix</i> +<i>which dangles from its cord about the Priest's finger.</i> +<i>The latter, after regarding with an expression of</i> +<i>triumph the astonishment of the Abbot, lets the crucifix</i> +<i>fall to the table and, reaching across to the other side,</i> +<i>pulls the flagon over to himself and proceeds to pour</i> +<i>out a cup of wine.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You're a smart set. You've wormed your way around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To let him out of calling me a dog;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now let him out of that. You've made it seem—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He sips the wine.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Where did you find it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— To yourselves, no doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he was ignorant of the dream when he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insinuated that I led the pack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That chased him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After a sip of wine.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">Or would lead it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Where did you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Where do you suppose?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— In the brook?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—A cauldron of hell-broth would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nearer it. And you? <span class="directline">(<i>The Abbot shakes his head.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">On his best-beloved.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— On Pierre?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— On the dwarf. <span class="directline">(<i>He drinks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Wages for his services, I suppose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>While the Priest drains the cup, the Abbot nods to Louis,</i> +<i>who steps quickly toward Oswald as if to hurry him out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Hold up! You let him stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Excitedly.</i>) You had no right—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It's my turn to explain. <span class="directline">(<i>He begins to fill the cup.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Oswald, retire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I want to clear myself.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>Clear!</i> Let him stay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Cup in hand, to the Abbot.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">After your pretty speech this morning I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reaching the village, found your monk, here, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jardin at swords' points. Some one had espied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dwarf, it seems, in town. And the people,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering what he did the other night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouted, and the Bailiff's voice rang loud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For vengeance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— But 'twas the boy—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You be still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Jardin proposed that they should burn him. He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opposed it, fought it, he did. Just then I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rode in. Jardin appealed to me, and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Urged them to seize the devil. Then it was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This upstart here let loose his venomous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vile, hell-suggested intimation that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had turned hound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I did not—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Not a word.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The upshot of it all was—Ah, but God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will pour his wrath out on your head for this!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In view of what then happened, I now call<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">This night, this midnight hour, and wake up God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To witness that these mountains shall be cleared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heathen; that the dews of heaven shall fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baptizing bodies of the unbaptized<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stiff among the wild-flowers. For this young week,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in this storm hath stepped upon the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall see a storm more terrible than this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On mountain tops uprooting human trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And choking Death and Hell and Darkness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or let the infant Sabbath, born this hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put not a foot on earth, but like a bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wander upon the winds, and in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grope for the morning star and find it not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the gates of the morning be shut and let no bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake up the world, unless it wake to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death ravining on the mountains and white Faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Painting her banners there in heathen blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Mercy shall be shut up in the caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this accursed deed shall be tracked down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Vengeance ranging like a wild beast—Thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above these maddening winds that wreck this world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear me, <i>hear me</i>, HEAR ME. Thou in heaven!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Out of breath.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And you—and you who caused all this, may God—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Benedict!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—But let God have his—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">(<i>He swallows the wine.</i>) His will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he will have it, mark you that, young man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To the Abbot.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strange are the ways God hath of rousing up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slothful to a work he long since laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the world and the world shirked it. But<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall be done now, <i>it shall be done now</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If for three years the heathen on the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have served their idols, in less than three days<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Their idols and themselves shall be in Hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lead the chase yonder, Father, lead it there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath <i>them</i> shake the mountains. Let this hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike for Thee there, and serve Thee, striking them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That this accursed deed may smell no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A putrid carcass rotting under heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is how God hath roused us up at last.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He drains the cup and sets it down.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My people armed with vengeance had swung down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reached the bridge, and Jardin, valiant man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soldier of God, Knight Templar of the Cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in the heathen land fought for ten years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stamp out Satan, even in his old age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A furnace burning with the breath of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And firing those about him to the work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ridding these mountains of the heathen, he—May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God reward him for it in the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without end, Amen—he had grabbed the dwarf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drag him off and burn him—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It was wrong—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—His blood is on your hands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Frantically.</i>) You murdered him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You had no cause to kill him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>I!</i>. Hear that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—The boy had done no harm. The night I fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas he who—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>Seizing him.</i>) Will you hush?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>White with fear.</i>) Oswald, retire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your fever—you're excited. (<i>Rising.</i>) Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't press this matter further—now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Bewildered.</i>) The <i>boy</i>!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Louis, take him—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— No cause to kill the <i>boy</i>!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—He—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Father has forbidden it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Um-hm!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think I see—I think—I think I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—So he told you it was the dwarf, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>All the while shoving Oswald toward the rear</i> +<i>door.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just his imagination Father. I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was the one who found him at the gate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knew no more about it than a stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas night; the stars were shooting in the—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— When?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—When he was brought up. Why he—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Quickly.</i>) Louis!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Searching the Priest's face.</i>) You asked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he told us—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—It was the dwarf was killed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—He told us that you had burned him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Fiercely to Oswald.</i>) God shall burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, griffon, son of Tophet, damned thing!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Terrified at the dark in the corridor and with a wild expression</i> +<i>upon his face, Oswald clutches hysterically at</i> +<i>the door jambs.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—No, no, no, no! (<i>Piteously, as he is shoved along</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>through the hall.</i>) Father, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Call Hell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pray to God—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Breathe no curse, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will inquire into this affair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he hath done aught culpable—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>If! If!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—If he hath spoken unbecomingly—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Is Jardin's life then nothing? I suppose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not, to you. <span class="directline">(<i>He turns and goes toward the door, left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I suppose not, to you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You mean to say—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Go your way; I go mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—To say the dwarf killed—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You have espoused the cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the guilty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Of the guilty? <i>I</i> espoused?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>Following with the light</i>.) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Don't tell me Oswald had a hand in this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benedict, this is pure malignity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And no mouth in it, either, I suppose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You mean he instigated this attack?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>At the door, buckling his cloak about</i> +<i>him</i>.) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go your way; I go mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I don't believe it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I don't believe it. It smacks too like the charge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he called you a dog. If you can prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That any word of his caused Jardin's death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will attend to him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—By cursing me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You know why I—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You needn't apologize.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You, Benedict, not I, are needing grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have assailed a child of God, and you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know what our Lord said: "'Twere better a mill-stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were hanged about his neck and he were flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the sea, than offend one of these."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You even seemed to take delight, to relish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harrowing his soul up with the hunter's dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breaching it for horror to peep through.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You wait.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>He reaches down behind</i> +<i>the chest</i>.) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— God will hold you responsible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If anything should happen to him.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take care he does not visit you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Just now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You said yourself that it was you who urged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jardin to seize the dwarf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— And so I did.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Whose fault is it if the dwarf killed him, then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—We will let God decide whose fault—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Move this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Setting the lamp down upon the floor.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You even said Oswald opposed it, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that just now you blamed him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You think you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Understand everything. You <i>think</i> you do.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They pull the chest from the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Then tell me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Reaching down and getting his staff.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i21">The dwarf did not kill him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— How?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is he not dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—By this time, he may be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I still don't see where Oswald's fault comes in.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He takes up the lamp.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—We will let God decide whose fault it is.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—How did it happen?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—God was there; ask him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis reappears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Stay, Benedict, tell me explicitly—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the last time you will see me here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Eh? <span class="directline">(<i>Holding the light above his head.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i11">What do you propose to do?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You wait.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I fear for you, unless you quench your wrath.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A moment later, he turns back.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Again safe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Barely.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— What was that he said?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last time he would come here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I hope so. <span class="directline">(<i>Thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And don't let Oswald—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Close tight the shutters.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And don't let Oswald go down there again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We would be risking all that we have gained.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brothers, begging in the town to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought in four hundred franks, a silver cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three rings, a pair of bracelets, and a pearl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Big as a pea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— A very good day's work.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—If this keeps up, the chest won't hold it all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Suddenly, glancing about upon the table.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Benedict—did he take—the crucifix?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>At the window.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Oswald took it.—Do you think Benedict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found it where he said he—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Aghast.</i>) Oswald!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Why?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—The hunter saw it blood-stained in his dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A gust of wind blows out the light in his hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Perhaps it got blood on it when he fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benedict may have washed it off. I thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It might help quiet him. Shall I get it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— No;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may be right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Still, if you think—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You fetch—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll take the lamp and cup; you fetch the wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will have Pierre watch with him to-night.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis turns back to the window. The Abbot relights his</i> +<i>lamp at the little taper in the wall and then goes left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—By the way, Father, old Andrew has gone mad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm has blown his mind's last spark out. Yes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tried to take the bracelets from Luigi<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would have dragged the chest out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And did he?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— No;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it was all that four of us could do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hold him. He is on the seas again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And peers abroad and swears he sees great ships—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Out in the storm is heard the booming of a bell. They</i> +<i>listen. Louis crosses himself and mutters.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Sed libera nos a malo.</i> Father— <span class="directline">(<i>The Abbot lifts his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i32">What<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you think it means? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Come to my room.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">(<i>To himself, as he goes left.</i>) If<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The etherial gods, as the wise poet says,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell afar off and in the affairs of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Interfere not, our domes shall rise yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i22">(<i>Turning.</i>) Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring the scroll.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Which?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Lucretius. On the floor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In the doorway he stops and listens as for the bell. As he</i> +<i>goes out.</i>) If.</p></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis takes up the parchment which lies upon the</i> +<i>floor near the Abbot's chair and, going to the rear door,</i> +<i>shuts it and slides the bolt. He then blows out the</i> +<i>taper in the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Listening.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i4">The witches have their way in heaven to-night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes to the table and, taking up the flagon, goes out,</i> +<i>left.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—The court yard of the abbey, as in Scene</i> +<i>Three of the Second Act. A storm is heard roaring</i> +<i>through the mountains, with an occasional rumble of</i> +<i>thunder and in the darkness sudden luster as of lightning</i> +<i>far off. In these flashes, the scene gleams wet as after a</i> +<i>hard rain.</i></p> + +<p><i>From the right, comes a faint sound as of a stick tapping on</i> +<i>stone, and soon along the side of the dormitory old Andrew</i> +<i>appears, carrying a staff with which he is feeling</i> +<i>his way through the darkness.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Here a black squall, sou'-wester, south-south-west.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star—star gone! Where's the pole?<br /></span> +<span class="i18">(<i>Shouting.</i>) Furl the main, lads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On she spins, whirling past world on world. Hip!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel her—feel her heave! (<i>Shouting.</i>) Take in the mizzen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand thousand fathoms down, the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines like a fish. <span class="directline">(<i>He peers around the corner.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i20">Black as—Hear the masts crack.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch Alvinach! Watch for the ninth wave, lads!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Put out that broom! You'll have the witches here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother, they've burnt the baby!—Hya! Lie down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks out in the court.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's a night, God bless us! Here's a gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make the sea-girls sing. Scylla! Carribee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake your dead bones! Shake 'em and sing! Blow, then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Growl, Scylla! Growl, ocean-bitch, bark and growl!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, Carribee, whirl! Shake the big gulf and slush!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gulp down the worlds with stars and moons and moons!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yip, there they go! Suck 'em down! suck 'em down!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arcturus down! Down Cancer! down the Scales!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whirled into the pit! Weigh the devils, Scales!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weigh the big Serpent! Weigh Beelzebub!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hands ahelm! Ahull, boys! Lash her to the lea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lash her to the lea! Splinters! Watch out, lads!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Saint Telme! Saint Telme! Hold the gunnel there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The bell sounds in the chapel tower.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who's dead? Who's dead, i' the Devil's name?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetch me those rings. Now throw him overboard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scrub these stains, Luigi. Keep the dog back there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This gold will glitter on the Judgment Day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear you whispering, scoundrels!—Hya! Lie down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks back, singing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>There's wind up in her pitch-black flag;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>There's foam around her keel.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now we're scudding. Right through the Dipper—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>) Ahoy!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Elmo! Elmo! Light up! light up, man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Argo's to the larboard! Signal her! Ahoy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ship ahoy, Cap! Ship ahoy! Ship full of gold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's whirling south! Man the boats! Lay to! lay to!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a squall winks at the pirates, lads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mount her, hardies! Break her hatches! Gold under 'em.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Singing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8"><i>There's foam up in her pitch-black flag;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>There's wind around her keel....</i> <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Watch Alvinach, though! Keep the lantern dry!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stops and listens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear you whispering, scoundrels!—-Hya! Lie down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who said so? Louis lied. Stand back, I say!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four on an old man! Dogs! Let go my hair!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A loud clap of thunder.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shrouds break now, God bless us! here's a wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will blow us far off to the Pleiades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swamp us. <span class="directline">(<i>Lightning.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i14">That was the Bear went by. And<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgo has sunk here jewels in the south.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sink 'em deep, girl! Pirates abroad.—What's this?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Calling down.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Got it, boys? Got the gold? See it, see it shine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw your cloak over it. Don't let God see this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ho, Prester John! sailing among the stars?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's your chest, John! Here's your sparklers! Where is he?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is he, boys? Throw the king overboard?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pitched him to Plato on his big fork, eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Odi Persicos.</i> Like their gold, though. Up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up with it, lads. Heave, now. Chest broken open.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leak, gold, leak, leak! Here's your spring, Crashus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, Jew! here you can cool your tongue!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Traders, drink! Drink, worms! Pigs! Pastors! Devils!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drink, drink! Everything drink!<br /></span> +<span class="i12">(<i>Stooping down.</i>) Here's a dead man's ring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finger's in the coral. Bracelets and gems.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Topaz from Tartary. Emeralds from the East.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Garnets. Eh? Garter-buckles! <span class="directline">(<i>Reproachfully.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">Lads! lads!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A glare of lightning reveals him with his hand close to his</i> +<i>eyes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i43">"From Carlos."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chloe's gone bathing, Carlos. Turned cold nymph.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let go! Let go, I say! Androphanes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike him, Juba! Slash him with the broad-sword!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You hand that back here, then. Hell-dog.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a widow's mite; bought a monk's prayer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flip it into the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i22">Judas! here you are! <span class="directline">(<i>Thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Rumble on! Growl and growl! Who cares for Heaven now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rain or not rain. We can fight, too, old boy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wipe your lips, Scariot. Take the chamois bag.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's thirty-two. Off with you.—Wallets! Old coin!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich man, miser, knave! Sick, eh? Quick, your gold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take it to the priest, then you can jump<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right through the needle's eye.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He gets down upon his knees.</i>) Well, God bless us!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sacked the sea-king's coffers. See the pearls!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crescents and ear-bobs. Here's a brooch fine as<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparkles on Memnon's sister. What's this clammy thing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold, bloody hand! Hand with a locket in it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Un</i>lock it. Ho! picture, eh? Say mamma, baby!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mamma's in the sea-weed. That's a foul deed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw your cloak over it. Don't let God see this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Calling up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who's there? (<i>Rising.</i>) Who calls Andrew? Stand down on the ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lid <i>is</i> off. (<i>Stooping.</i>) Parchment deeds, eh? I. X.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Andrew's Andrew, then I. X. is eleven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shines? Silver. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i21">Monk's cross. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">Wet. <span class="directline">(<i>Flash of lightning.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i35">Red! <span class="directline">(<i>With horror.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i40">Lads! lads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll sink for this, God bless us! Pretty muss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who daubed it? (<i>Thunder.</i>) Hear that. Horror in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doffs his big plume at this. And up there—Here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash it! wash it in the sea! In with the chest, lads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murder like a foam-bird dashed upon the prow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shakes her red wings. And there—Look! <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i39">Wash it clean!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's golden scales are rising from the deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Off! lay her—lay her off, lads! They'll weigh us!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A sharp flash of lightning. Andrew is seen with his left</i> +<i>hand up beside his head, which is drawn down, backing</i> +<i>fearfully through the door into the dormitory. The</i> +<i>thunder rumbling in the darkness sounds like the growl</i> +<i>of an enormous wild beast.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_FIVE" id="ACT_FIVE">ACT FIVE.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—A street in the village. Low thatched cottages,</i> +<i>with deep, wide eaves overhanging the street, stand</i> +<i>in a dark mass. To the left, a little way from the others</i> +<i>and back a few paces from the street, is a small house, the</i> +<i>home of Jardin. Through a window in the room on the</i> +<i>right side comes a faint light as from a low-burning lamp.</i> +<i>To the left of the window, one feels that there is a door,</i> +<i>though, either on account of intervening bushes or perhaps</i> +<i>because of a porch that makes it darker there, one</i> +<i>does not see it. Out in the yard where the light from the</i> +<i>window falls upon the bushes near the casement, the</i> +<i>glistening of the leaves shows that it has been raining.</i> +<i>The windows of the other houses, like vacant eyes under</i> +<i>deep brows, are dark, and there are no signs of life anywhere.</i> +<i>Over the roofs and through the great trees that</i> +<i>rise up behind them flows a greyness that emphasizes the</i> +<i>quiet of the hour. About the street lie several limbs that</i> +<i>were broken off by the storm during the night.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—Sunday morning. Day is just beginning to break.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Cry</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Far to the left, full or terror and anguish.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Haro! Haro! <span class="directline">(<i>Drawing nearer.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i12">Wake, people! Help, oh, help!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After a pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Will no one hear? Will no one hear? <span class="directline">(<i>Near by.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">O men of God! Dear men of God! (<i>A pause.</i>) Oh, run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run to the mountains, men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre enters half on a run, breathless. There is a wild</i> +<i>light in his eyes and his thin frame is shaken with sobs.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i27">Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He glances toward the lighted window as though in doubt</i> +<i>whether or not to rouse the inmates of the house. Then,</i> +<i>as though to make up even for the moment he has lost,</i> +<i>he hurries along the goes out, right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">People! Christian people!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The light in the window grows dimmer and suddenly disappears,</i> +<i>leaving the house in total darkness.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">Will no one hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will no one hear? Wake! Oh, wake! <span class="directline">(<i>In the distance.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i34">Haro!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Jules!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Voice</span>—(<i>Nearer.</i>) Ho?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Voice</span>— Who is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Voice</span>— Some brother.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">(<i>Jules Bacqueur enters.</i>) Pierre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Voice</span>— The abbey's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blown down, perhaps.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—(<i>Entering.</i>) Where are all the people?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—At special mass for Jardin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He glances back toward the house where, at that moment,</i> +<i>the door opens and the light appears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—(<i>Hurrying on after Pierre.</i>) Come on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— Wait.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's hear how the Bailiff is.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hugh Capet returns to the corner of the cottages that are</i> +<i>flush with the street and the men look back to where</i> +<i>two figures, one after the other, appear in the lighted</i> +<i>doorway of Jardin's house, a man who comes out and</i> +<i>an old woman with a white cap on who carries a small</i> +<i>lamp. A little later the door is closed.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Who is it, Jacques?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—He spent the night there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— What a night it was!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just see these limbs.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— And there's some fellow's hat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—The roof's off Pirot's barn, and Lisette—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— Here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes forward to the edge of the street.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Following him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And Lisette found a big bird in her yard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a broken wing, blown in here miles and miles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the Holy Land or Joppa or some sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Pointing right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Look at those yew trees in the church yard there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless God, they've pulled up dead mens' skulls. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—And those men there—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>— Are filling up the graves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where's the cross? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Not on the steeple? Say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That monk—There's something up. When dead men's bones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are thundered over in the night, and graves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ungorge like that with wind, strange birds, and things—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Who is that shouting?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Don't know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>— How's Jardin?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques</span>—(<i>Entering.</i>) Eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—He didn't hear you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques</span>— What's he shouting for?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>—The storm tore up the dead last night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— The abbey's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blown down, perhaps, or— Come on. Hurry, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>—How is the Bailiff? <span class="directline">(<i>Distant thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—- <span class="directline">(<i>Hurrying out right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">Going to have another'n.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques</span>—The soldier had a bad night. In his fever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He picks the sheets, mumbling: "Saints, send him down,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And: "Listen, men!" and things like that. And once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jumps him clean out of bed and cries out: "There!"<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As he had run the woodman through and through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wipes his sword like on his pants, and then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though he felt his wound, falls back and pop!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind or something blows the light out and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear the banshee singing in the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild—wild. I fear the bell with toll 'fore night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go out.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—The open space in front of the church. In</i> +<i>the corner of the fence, left, the top of the poplar tree,</i> +<i>broken off by the wind during the night, hangs out in the</i> +<i>street almost brushing the ground. To the right of the</i> +<i>steps is a large wooden cross which was blown from the</i> +<i>steeple. It lies sidewise, hazing been split off at the bottom.</i> +<i>The gate into the church yard is slightly ajar, as</i> +<i>though some one had lately passed through, and against</i> +<i>the dark grass the taller of the white grave markers lean</i> +<i>as though the wind had been among them. Over the low</i> +<i>fences where one looks back into the church yard on the</i> +<i>one side and into an open space on the other, is seen yellow</i> +<i>light from the side windows of the church, pouring</i> +<i>out into the gloom. From within, comes the sound of the</i> +<i>service.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—His spear was lifted over Acre, Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his right arm hath made the heathen quail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And he hath spread thy glory through the East.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—And he hath spread thy glory through the East.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Let not the flags be draped that fluttered high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the strongholds of the Infidel.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—Let not the flags be draped that fluttered high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the strongholds of the Infidel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Let not the scorners from the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down and see the dark procession go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lift him up and lift up trembling, Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—Let not the scorners from the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down and see the dark procession go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lift him up and lift up trembling, Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Keep death off, Lord, until the gates of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receive the accursed hand that laid him low.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—Keep death off, Lord, until the gates of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receive the accursed hand that laid him low.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Let not thine enemies triumph over thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thunder it, brethren, so that God may hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—Let not thine enemies triumph over thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The mountains are afraid of thee, O Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake their wild tops and shake the heathen down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—The mountains are afraid of thee, O Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake their wild tops and shake the heathen down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—So shall thy Church with loud hosannas ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—So shall thy Church with loud hosannas ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—World without end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>— World without end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Amen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—(<i>Far to the left.</i>) Haro! haro!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Accept, O eternal Father, the offering +that is here made to Thee by Thy minister, in the name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +of us all here present. It is as yet only bread and wine, +but by a miracle of Thy power and grace will shortly +become the body and blood—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—(<i>Drawing nearer.</i>) Help, help! Oh, help!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>After a pause, as though he had heard the cry.</i>)</p> + +<p>—the body and blood of Thy beloved Son. He is our high +priest and He is our victim. By Him and—</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—O men of God! Dear men of God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>There is a hush in the church.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Will</i> you not help? <i>Will</i> you not—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He enters with his hands to his head, fearful lest he has</i> +<i>disturbed the service.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Resuming.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">He is our high priest and He is our victim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre throws himself down upon the steps, sobbing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i45">By Him and through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him, we desire to approach—Sit down, men! <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Women! Men! Sit down!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The noise in the church increases.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>— Sit down, brethren!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't desecrate the Lord's house!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Shouting.</i>) You hear me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Woman's Voice</span>—Husband!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Enraged.</i>) Malediction!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The church door is jerked open, and the people come pouring</i> +<i>out with anxious faces lest something terrible has</i> +<i>happened. Back in the church, above the heads of the</i> +<i>people, is seen the altar ablaze with lights, and high</i> +<i>behind it a colossal cross with a beautiful carven Christ</i> +<i>upon it. The wound in the side shows red and over the</i> +<i>thorn-crowned brow is an arch bearing in golden letters</i> +<i>the inscription: FORGIVE THEM FOR THEY</i> +<i>KNOW NOT WHAT THEY—The DO has never</i> +<i>been put on.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Staggering up from the steps.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Run, run to the mountains, men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick! quick!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They're dragging him off! They're dragging him off!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O run, run, run, run, run!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—What—where—who is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Yonder! yonder!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, get torches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Get torches and run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kindle fires on the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So he may see his way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, that won't help! Oh, that won't help!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he can hear, though!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call, call to him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Search all the places where the blind may be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run shouting "Oswald! Oswald!" through the woods!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find him, oh, find him before Satan comes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the storm breaks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll track him by the blood drops!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll tear his body on the mountains!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O men, dear men— <span class="directline">(<i>A clap of thunder. Pierre dodges.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What—what was that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, God said something! God said something!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pointing up at the sky.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He knows! He knows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord Jesus knows that it was not his fault!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And He will pay—oh, He will bless you, men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do, do, do run!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Make way!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—O Father! Father!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In his snow-white chasuble, the priest appears pushing his</i> +<i>way through the throng about the door. In his hand</i> +<i>he has a silver communion plate with the bread upon it.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Why all this clamor?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the Sabbath and the hour of mass.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—It's done! It's done!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Descending the steps.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">How dare you cry out on this holy morn?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Oh, last night, Father, last night in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White angels, oh, white angels in the storm—It<br /></span> +<span class="i0">tore their wings and blew them from the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then—and then—O father, then the fiends—He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">saw them in the stones and—screamed and—Oh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They did a deed of horror in the dark!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>He presses his</i> +<i>hands into his eyes as if to shut out the sight of it.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—What is this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Bending up and down.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Pierre! <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">Pierre, if Hell hath done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some wild deed in the night, be sure that God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will right it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Will He, oh, will He, Father, make him to see—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the blue sky again?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Who is it Hell hath blinded in the night?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With his hands to his eyes, sobbing.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Brother—brother—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Pierre!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—O, Oswald! Oswald!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a cry, Madam Bacqueur falls fainting upon the steps.</i> +<i>The women about her take her child from her arms and</i> +<i>support her back into the church. The crowd stands</i> +<i>silent.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Bending up and down.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Say something! say something!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Almost overcome.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Can this be true? Can this be true, Pierre?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Swift fly the avenging angels from the Throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guilt like a red cloud passes from the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And day looks in and sees where eyes have been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>As though his heart would break.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Brother! brother! brother!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<i>Praise be to God!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tempest shaketh showers upon the grass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm wind cooleth the low violet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the proud pine I shatter, saith the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall go down and toss his boughs in hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coffin-worm shall slime him. He shall not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mock me upon the mountains, saith the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Praise be to God!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre glances up at the priest and then, as from something</i> +<i>infernal, falls flat and hides his face against the</i> +<i>ground.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lights are out in Babylon the Proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Lord God in blackness sitteth there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the ruins, dealing judgment.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The rising wind blows shut the door of the church and</i> +<i>leaves the scene enveloped in the half-light of early</i> +<i>morning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My scales are hung in heaven, saith the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weigh them in the darkness of the night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They balance with the Dragon on one side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Glory be to God in the highest!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting off demoniacally in the direction of the abbey.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lift up thy head, O Lucifer, in hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see what God hath written on the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In letters that burn through thy broken panes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With his finger as though tracing the letters.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Weighed and found wanting!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am the Lord God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Me the moon goes down; in Me the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rises; I am the night and day.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +<span class="i0">If over any man a light break forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make his brow bright, let him not think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shines for him alone, and be puffed up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because of it, and speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bitterly, saying: 'See what pure prayers can do.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when his lungs are empty, saith the Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I will give him flesh unto the dogs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will put out the light that kindles pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saith the Lord God, and with the light the eyes." <span class="directline">(<i>In a wild chant.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Praise be to God who doeth all things well.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shinar hath seen the glory of the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nimrod, who piled up Babel to the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies sprawling under it, and the thunders laugh.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting in the direction of the abbey.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who lieth under Babel?—Up, Pierre;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have a message. Rise, for you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must bear it to your sainted abbot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre rises and, with his head thrown back and his hands</i> +<i>covering his face, without waiting, goes straight out,</i> +<i>left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Benedict to his brother in Christ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greeting:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lieth under Babel? You were right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In saying that the storm would shake the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It hath indeed played havoc. Certain trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the churchyard tore the graves up, and the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have shaken roofs and spires in the town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We lost our cross.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear you, too, lost somewhat. Gables though<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can be repaired.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We should both thank our Lord he hath not let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lamb he careth for be scathed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lieth under Babel?"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Coming out in the street and shouting after Pierre.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And to the brother, the dear ward of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convey felicitations!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask him to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell you the color of the abbot's hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This morning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The stars are flying in and out the clouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain tops are tinging;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night passes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rouse up, and behold the Dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pouring her beautiful gold upon the world!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run down and see the print the bishop John<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent me from Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind Samson's head, who pulled the pillars down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under a dog's paws in the Gaza streets.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his car, as a salutation for the Sabbath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bark this from Benedict, from Benedict, the dog:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Pride is a wind that from the shores of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloweth far off where neither sun nor moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor stars shine nor shall shine forevermore."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath heard one prayer. Come in, men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He enters the church. After a silence the men about the</i> +<i>steps begin to talk among themselves in undertones.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of Them</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Calling through the door.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i40">Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—If he don't let us go, let's go ourselves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Reappearing.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Who called? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i15">What is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>—Before you come out, Father, the monk spoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like as how the chase was on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—"Run to the mountains, men!"<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— "Quick! quick!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Said we should find him before Satan comes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—That was before you came out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Man</span>—Spoke like as how the dogs were on his trail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Run, some one, and fetch Pierre back.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Two men dart out, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He did not tell me this. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i28">Arm yourselves, men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In a mass the men hurry out, left, a confused hum of voices</i> +<i>rising for a moment, then dying away in the distance.</i> +<i>The scene has grown darker. A gust of wind blows to</i> +<i>the door of the church.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Alone upon the steps.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">This is the day. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Inscrutable are the ways of God. Dark, dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfathomable the sea in which He moves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He changeth as the waters change, and yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountains strike their roots in Him and stand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thunder right. The priest comes down from the steps</i> +<i>and out into the street, where he stands looking up at</i> +<i>the sky.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy ways are not our ways. Thy voice is heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abroad upon the firmament. The stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That should have been put out an hour ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burn bright upon the edges of the storm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Satan hath laid his hand upon the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the day gropes, feeling her way far off<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As doth the blind. But yesterday the morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walked beautiful on the mountains, with her lamp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindled as for the Resurrection.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the Sabbath, yet Golgotha's gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs o'er the Sepulcher, and like a torch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrown down upon the mountains burns the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A scant blue flame far down behind the world.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God shall not call in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">I will forgive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bitter words. The lost shall be reclaimed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks briskly back and climbs the steps and enters the</i> +<i>church. A man with a shovel on his shoulder appears</i> +<i>coming from back in the churchyard. He stops by the</i> +<i>fence and looks about.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Man</span>—Don't see them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From back in the churchyard.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i11">Someone's moaning in the church.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Another man appears with a shovel. They listen. Faint</i> +<i>shouting, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Man</span>—Let's leave our shovels here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They put down their shovels and get over the low fence into</i> +<i>the open space before the church and start, left. Pierre</i> +<i>is heard returning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—But it was not his fault.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Between the two men he enters wringing his hands.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was the fiends that did it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas his hand but— <span class="directline">(<i>Starting back.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">They're hiding—they're hiding back of there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points to the broken top of the poplar tree that hangs</i> +<i>out in the street. The men from the churchyard come</i> +<i>from behind it.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, they've been by the graves!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He covers his face with his hands and bends up and down,</i> +<i>sobbing hysterically.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of the Men</span>— What has he done?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a great shining crucifix upon a staff, the priest appears</i> +<i>in the doorway and comes hurriedly down the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Pierre, in the name of God, all-hail!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I greet you as one having holy lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since God hath chosen you to set on fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one bright word all days to be. Pierre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which way hath he gone? God is waiting.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The seraphim—Nay, fear me not, for I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have been baptized with fire that hath fallen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly from heaven. Which way hath he gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the high places fly the seraphim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And banners flash and fade among the clouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lord of Life into my power hath given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life of him who spoke—I will forgive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bitter words. This is the day of days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within I shine, though round about the storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreadeth her gloom. Even my hands are dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thunder peals the muster of the dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Faint shouts, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Falling upon his knees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">They've bitten him! they've bitten him! Pray! pray! pray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Nay, Pierre, these are shouts of them whose mouths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall sing upon the mountains when my hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall rend the hound and pluck the blind from death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His breath is in the hollow of my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though he taunted me and though I might—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He blows in his palm.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dream shall be fulfilled. Throughout all time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All dreams shall hail this dream a holy thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath chosen from all days this holy day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wake and run. While from the Sepulcher<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God rolls the stone back, the dream opens hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slips the dogs while angels have the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth the Angel of the Resurrection,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand in hand with the hunter's dream, shall run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fiery feet over the ages leaving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Luminous the eyes of holy men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me this is a great day. From the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purposes of God, in fold on fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fall round and mantle me with light. Pierre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In what dread shape came Blindness through the halls<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of the abbey, feeling for the brother's eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the darkness? What did he say when God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one blow blotted out the moon and sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever, and the faces of his friends?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgiveness did he cry for, for the things—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that is past. I have been and shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yesterday and to-morrow, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day, as nameless as the stars of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgetful of all injuries like the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rush about the earth and, like the lightning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will strike where God shall throw me. Like the rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall fall mercifully on hot eyes that lit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a few hours before with pride and scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now are dark forever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I will not say that. God in his power can make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blind earth fill the sockets of the blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With balls as bright as orbs of seraphim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or without eyes can fill the soul with light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your brother, Pierre, fell upon the dark—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>My</i> brother; I will say it and forgive—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our brother fell on darkness not last night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But long since turned his shining face away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From light, and gradually as the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sinks, sank low down where sun and moon and stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, "Vanity!" and the grave is over all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The sobbing of Pierre is heard.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But he shall rise. I thank God for this power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall be to my glory that for hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I returned love. Vengeance is His, and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simply a wind to blow and do His will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God shall have praise, but I shall have praise, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Names shall be written high and lamps shall burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under them, so that all the saints may see.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes out in the street and stands looking in the direction</i> +<i>in which the men went, talking to himself.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then some who with high heads walked this low earth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not my prayer, but if God so decide—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a day will bring forth no man can—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Turning back.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i43">Pierre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did he speak of me when the blow fell? Did he say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I wronged that holy man"? Did he say that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what word bade he farewell to the stars?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did not remorse—Why do you look at me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes of horror?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shuddering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i23">Out into the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if to—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He presses his hands into his eyes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—With no word?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— "The dogs! the dogs!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And called, then, I suppose, upon the dwarf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did he appear and give him back his eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I judge not, from these tears that trickle down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And did no sinner's wail go up to God?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, Pierre, will plant eyes in his blind soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what cry hoisted he sail for the dark land?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Between sobs.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">"Father—Woden!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Ha, and he saw him, then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried to the Father that the heathen god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was putting out his eyes! 'Tis well. In that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last flash God showed him whence the darkness came.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>One of the men who came back with Pierre whispers to the</i> +<i>Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Lord Jesus knows that it was not his fault.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Amazed.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Did he do that, Pierre, did he do that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—'Twas not his fault.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>Put out his eyes himself!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Oh, in his fever—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What will sin not do!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—And someone—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Rather than look upon my face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By this deed he admits the charge I made.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—And someone—someone told him of the dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How that the dogs should tear him—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Stop right there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You come down here to cast his blood on me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the hand inside this hellish glove.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He turns and comes straight out into the street.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Timidly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas that that did it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand and shouting aloud.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i25">Go back, men, go back!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We will stay here! This I will <i>not</i> forgive.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He returns toward the church and climbs the steps. On</i> +<i>top he stops, stands for a moment, then sets his crucifix</i> +<i>in the doorway and comes back down. Pierre, fearing</i> +<i>he is about to be attacked, draws back. The priest follows</i> +<i>him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know who sent you down here and I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why. <span class="directline">(<i>Shaking his finger.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i5">Pierre, had this word not been distilled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under old fangs and put in your young mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sting should cost you something. As it is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In you I overlook it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hoarse with wrath.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i23">The old snake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God shall pass judgment between me and him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seraphim shall burn his mouth with coals.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accursed envy! He beneath the wreck<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of Babel lies and thence looks out and sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me in white garments on the mount of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Going toward glory, and it rankles in him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Women appear in the doorway.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so he seeks to terrify my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With: "Hide from the lightning! God is in it!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though I went toward Ramoth-Gilead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Ahab's hand smoking with prophets' blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is why he told you to tell me this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I will not be terrified by him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre backs out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Accursed envy! And you tell him so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much rather would he see the brother lost—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The women press too close and the crucifix tumbles down</i> +<i>the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is it you do? Go back in there! God's curse—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking after Pierre.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On any man who would much rather see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dear son lost than see me glorified.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell <i>him</i> to hide. The wind that curls these clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the same wind that blew last night. Does he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With black mouth cry to me my hand is red?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it be, if he think so, you tell him to stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his wrecked gable and watch Benedict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walk right straight up to God with this red hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take the crown and leave no finger marks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>On tiptoe, Madam Valmy steals down the steps to recover</i> +<i>the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As for his charge that I have done this deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him it smells of Hell.—Go back in there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Madam Valmy goes back up the steps and the women withdraw</i> +<i>from the door.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Daunted shall I be by lying lips?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall Belial reign? Shall God call twice and thrice?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not leave my cup of glory stand<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Untouched because the old snake cannot drink;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because he, having wormwood on his lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cries: "God boils in the wine upon the heights!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will drink it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Armed and with Jacques Sar at their head, the men enter</i> +<i>silent, their faces showing disappointment. In the</i> +<i>disorder in which they enter, there are traces of three</i> +<i>lines into which they had been drawn up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— We will go, men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The men brighten up and become turbulent, and the three</i> +<i>lines immediately reappear. The priest walks back toward</i> +<i>the church.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i36">Pick up—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A man goes toward the crucifix that lies on the ground.</i> +<i>The Priest steps upon the steps and turns, facing the</i> +<i>men. While he speaks, Jacques Sar marches the lines</i> +<i>right and wheels them around so as to face left, the</i> +<i>direction in which Pierre came and went. For others</i> +<i>who keep coming in, he finds places in the lines and,</i> +<i>examining weapons and moving the men about, goes</i> +<i>up and down with the air of an old commander.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the grandest day that ever mixed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her golden hair with banners. The hunter's dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That flashed and vanished in the night, after<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lying like our Lord three days in darkness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bursts like a shining angel upon the world<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He receives the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And dazzles. We see not clearly, for the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blinds as the darkness doth. All night the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tumbled as a man in fever. Saints on fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walked grandly on the mountain combs and called,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the graves opened, and the silent ones—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can it mean that of the churchyard dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the soldiers rose? And that, too, when<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Hell's hand was heavy on the brother? Men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At midnight riding down the mountain, I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw wonders and heard things I dare not tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the hounds are I know not, but I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One up there hath a snare laid for them. And I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see my name in fire on those clouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These winds shall blow it luminous, and all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world shall see it, and all time. Then some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now accuse me will come round with smiles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I will not be terrified by him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He says something under his breath and comes quickly</i> +<i>down the steps and out into the street where he shouts</i> +<i>after Pierre.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell the old man I go upon this chase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of no love for him or for his monk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I despise them both. You<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him just what I say and why I go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him the storm hath spoken to me. Say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw a hand of fire in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beckon, and heard a trumpet peal in heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thinks I am a coward. So I am;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear to disobey the voice of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore go. Listen to me, Pierre!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You tell him this: Had Heaven not delivered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its orders to me, by the throne of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a spear—Hear me?—not a single spear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should redden in the rescue of this monk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for his charge that I have done this deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him it smells of Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thunder right. The priest turns and for a time contemplates</i> +<i>the sky in silence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i36">One of you men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run and ask Pierre which way hath he gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there are trails and trails.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A man darts out, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Fly fast now, Noel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Rapt, looking off at the sky, right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Why should the storm move that way, if the chase—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Turning left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lies yon way? We will wait.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Aloud.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">God seems to call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up yonder where the lightning cracks the sky.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After a silence, with his eyes upon the heavens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like golden links your names shall hang to mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dangle down the ages. Men shall say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"This man and that man were with Benedict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the glory of the Lord that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When heathendom went tumbling down to hell."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, you shall live forever envied men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks about buried in his thought. Occasionally he</i> +<i>stops for a moment in meditation, then resumes his pace.</i> +<i>Old Jacques, hesitatingly and stopping whenever the</i> +<i>priest stops, follows him about as though he wished to</i> +<i>communicate something, but was uncertain whether to</i> +<i>break his revery. The men watch them in silence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>Approaching the lines, his chin still</i> +<i>upon his breast.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Something I have to tell you, hitherto,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his own good, religiously concealed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For adulation maketh pride to swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And man becomes an idol. <span class="directline">(<i>Looking up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i26">Years ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prophesy went sounding down the south<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sent a thrill through Christendom. From Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echo came to us. The rumor ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in the Saxon forest lived a boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through whom the North should come contrite to God:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shepherd as was Moses and therefore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prepared to lead his people. Friar Paul<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Was sent to flash the light upon his way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And win him unto Christ, to make his staff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put forth green Christian buds. With what result<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I need not tell you. Few, few men can bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honor and the favor of the Most High. He,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moses himself could not. "Watch Moses now;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And struck the rock. And then God: "Now watch Me;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave his staff to Joshua. And here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I find a lesson, this: Glory shall pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the proud man to the humble man. To-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I take that prophesy up in <i>my</i> hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with it seek the mountains of our God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heathendom shall fall like Jerich—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Man</span>—(<i>Returning.</i>) Says<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He don't know which way. Lost him in the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The crowd stands silent, not knowing which way to go. A</i> +<i>woman appears in the doorway.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Woman</span>—Madam Bacqueur in her swoon hath thrice cried out:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O keep from the mountains! Look! See there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fire of God falls on the hills. See! See!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The voice of Hell that fears our coming. Woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baths her entranced brows with holy water.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The woman goes back in the church. Jacques speaks to the</i> +<i>Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause, from the rear line.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Let's go toward the abbey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In the front line, pointing right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">This way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shaking his head, as though fearing the storm.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i41">No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Man</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting, left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i47">Jules!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks on a few paces and, frowning with impatience,</i> +<i>beckons in with his arm.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—This is a sudden beam on the dark web.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—And his blood shed down yonder by the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">bridge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And the storm moving toward that mountain top.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To the men.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jacques tells me that our honored bailiff lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His martial limbs half hanging in the grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—I fear the bell will toll 'fore night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>deeply moved.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i53">The dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soldiers are up to meet their sergeant.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks quietly back and climbs the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i41">Men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wing and wing this terrible morning, fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two avenging angels toward one mountain top.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One in his hand two bloody eyeballs bears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other, an old man's picture with a wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swollen and with Death's finger in it. Fixed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On two eyes are their four eyes. Toward one man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four wings and two bright swords are on their way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They light! They beckon me! I see it all!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From two wounds two red trails converge in one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hounds that have their noses on the track<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the brother, had their tongues in Jardin's blood!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The big white talbot is Canzler!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>There is a moment's silence so intense that the wind is heard</i> +<i>whistling among the white crosses in the churchyard.</i> +<i>Then a terrible shout goes up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shouts</span>—Down with him!<br /></span> +<span class="i22">To Hell with the hounds!<br /></span> +<span class="i38">Lead us! Lead us!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Jacques strikes with his sword and the lines move swiftly</i> +<i>to the left, the direction of the abbey.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">God's purposes begin where man's prayers end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>On fire.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Right about! Face the heathen and face God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The lines wheel and face right, the direction in which the</i> +<i>storm is moving.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Transported.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">This is most wonderful. Men, Hell hath here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Packed all her seeds in one infernal bloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who knew till this beam fell where to turn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth let no man say he knows the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God will move on the morrow, for in a flash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hem of his great garment passeth by.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Bacqueur enters with an armful of swords and spears. On</i> +<i>his left shoulder hangs a great shield.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Here's two men have none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>— Here, Jules!<br /></span> +<span class="i54">Hand me one!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>Half to himself, his face upturned to</i> +<i>the sky.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What have I done that Thou shouldst honor me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With glory such as no man ever—Nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not for me this glory is prepared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I have ever labored for another.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou movest in her and she in me and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am but a cloud upon her gale and storm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let no man move a foot. I know my time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see me but you see not what I see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath arranged to bring us face to face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is no combat between merely men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All Heathendom gives chase in this big hound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our brother stands for all men lost to God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my hand is the hand of Christendom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Bacqueur offers him a sword.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, I have weapons that ye know not of.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking off at the storm.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lightnings whip the foothills and the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sag with the weight of the wrath of the Lord of Hosts.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>His face becomes luminous.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who hears what I hear? Speak out. Then be still.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With an old scarlet flag, amid the folds of which sections</i> +<i>of a white cross are seen, Hugh Capet comes running in.</i> +<i>Seeing the priest entranced upon the steps and the men</i> +<i>hushed with awe, he checks himself.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand, without turning.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If any man moves I will call down fire. <span class="directline">(<i>A silence.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">To-day the last great tower of Hell goes down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes down the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>His voice quivering with emotion.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">This banner once waved over Acre, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—And we will plant it on Jerusalem.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shouts</span>—God's with us! God's with us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Hear my last word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Silence!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Let there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No shouting or any noise. Let us go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quietly as befits the Sabbath day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vales blow white. Yonder the mountains stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like quiet altars waiting sacrifice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, with the holy banner of God, stand here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now if there be among you one who hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guilt, looking upon this storm let him step<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out, lay his spear down and stay here and not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tempt the wrath of God. For soon upon the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens shall blacken and there shall be a loud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst of His power and the shining glory of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pause a moment. Let that man step out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i4">Then you have naught to fear. The innocent<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Are safe. God's shield is over them. Come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—The signal, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— The signal shall be this:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Attention, men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I shall uplift the Christ.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He raises the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And God, burning the clouds to ashes, will throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightning upon Antichrist. Then you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charge. <span class="directline">(<i>A roll of thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i9">The trumpets of the heavenly host.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Now, men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up with your spears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— There shall be wonders done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He starts right, the lines following him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In years to come, men, tell your children this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When God crowned Benedict upon the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not Benedict but the Church He crowned.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go out silent. The scene has become darker and the</i> +<i>wind is heard whistling among the white crosses in the</i> +<i>churchyard. Back in the church through the open door</i> +<i>is seen the beautifully carven Christ with overhead in</i> +<i>golden letters the inscription: FORGIVE THEM</i> +<i>FOR THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY—. The</i> +<i>DO has never been put on.</i>)</p></div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—The mountain side, as in Scene one of</i> +<i>the third Act. There is heard a steady roar as of wind</i> +<i>over vast forests, and all about are signs of an approaching</i> +<i>storm. At intervals an unnatural, ghastly light as</i> +<i>from rifted clouds swiftly driving overhead passes across</i> +<i>the scene. In a moment the gloom has returned and the</i> +<i>trees are racing back into the shadow.</i></p> + +<p><i>Back upon the ledge, his long yellow hair tossing in the</i> +<i>wind, stands Rudolph watching the gathering of the storm.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Flying on starless wings the Powers of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep back the bird of morning till the Norns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have traced the lines of guilt and set the snare.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A moment later Canzler appears coming down the sheep-path.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—What was that shouting down the mountain for?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning quickly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The whirling of the wheel!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— The wheel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Hurrying forward.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i39">Look there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the vast felly flies! Far out it swings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sways the forests. Look at it, Canzler!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For miles around below the mountain heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm goes racing in a wheel whose hub<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turns on the village spire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler follows him back along the ledge.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">Awhile ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divinely guided through the mountain ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A common cloud, afloat upon the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blotted the stars that glimmered in the tarn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whirled into a wheel. Around the rim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flows the white cloud-wool, and a thread is drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the hills. The distaffs of the Norns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow big with fate, and, sitting there in silence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their withered fingers from this flying skein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loop off the lives of men. Val-father takes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his almighty hand the reins of things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drives them either way through earth and air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting far down the mountain.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—I heard that far up on the mountain tops.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—In some procession honoring their god.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—But louder now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And nearer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Where is Fritz?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Rounding the sheep up. <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting again.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">They have crossed the bridge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning and looking at Rudolph.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Honoring their god upon the mountain side?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—'Tis the great dragon crawling through the hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—No wonder darkness fills the valley.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i39"> <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause</i>.)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in a storm like this!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Hunger.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— No doubt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there is hunger in the heavens, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—And the two face. <span class="directline">(<i>They listen.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">The Asas all night long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were loud above the mountains as though some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vast purpose long pent up were finding way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—And Selma heard it like a river flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Washing the peaks and down the wooded slopes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the valley where the dragon lies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouts still afar but growing nearer.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That belly levels all things in the plain. <span class="directline">(<i>Thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Val-father's voice from out the clouds mid-air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meets with the dragon's voice and devours it. Hark!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—It may lay hands on Fritz.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes back along the ledge and starts down the mountain.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Be careful, chief!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wheel moves this way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— It is following them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Here he comes running up the mountain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Where?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Wait till the lightning shows the slopes again.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They listen. The shouts draw nearer.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—The Bailiff's blood has roused them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— With that blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father has enticed it from its lair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tempt the mountains and to seek for more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up here! Coming up here!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—(<i>Shouting.</i>) Fritz!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— The dark bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose scattered roots the years have fed, at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfolds its petals to the sun. The North<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all her graves is waiting for the dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day Val-father lays his shadow by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Go up the rocks and blow the battle horn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph goes leaping up the rocks.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And let the battle cry be "Dachtelfeld"!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The peaks are tipped with day!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He disappears up the rocks.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Selma</span>—(<i>Above.</i>) Where are you, Father?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Stay from the timber! Don't get near the trees!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thunder.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stay in the open, Selma!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The form of Canzler, who stands back upon the ledge, disappears</i> +<i>in the gathering gloom.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Selma</span>— Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Fritz</span>—(<i>Down the mountain.</i>) Chief!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>There is heard, at first scarcely audible but rising more and</i> +<i>more, low music as of spirit voices. Above, just where</i> +<i>the sheep-path enters the bushes, Selma appears coming</i> +<i>hurriedly down. Hearing the music, she stops and,</i> +<i>listening, becomes as one entranced.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Almost in a whisper.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler comes forward into view. The girl, still transported</i> +<i>and more like a being of the air, has come further</i> +<i>down the path.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">Oh, hear them!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Go back, go back, child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shall not harm you. <span class="directline">(<i>She rushes to him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i25">They will not come up here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The girl lays her hand on his arm. They listen.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only Val-father's voice along the storm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Fritz</span>—Chief!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— It is Fritz.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—- The trees—the trees are singing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild vines and the mountain flowers—Oh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Father, see!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— What ails you, child?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—The elves—the storm elves gather in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And up the mountain there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear them, Father! Hear the fairies calling!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the white flakes! The dog-wood blooms are falling!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She runs wildly up the path.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's coming, Father! Oswald's coming!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She disappears among the bushes. In the rear Fritz is seen</i> +<i>climbing up the mountain.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who goes leaping on up the rocks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Chief!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Here I am.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz leaps back down to the ledge and comes hurrying forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Out of breath.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i21">They've killed—they've killed the sheep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like hungry dogs. It's us they're after, though.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dashed in and slashed them with their swords. Hear that!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Wild shouting below.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That's for our blood. <span class="directline">(<i>They listen.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i22">If we don't arm, chief,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Hark!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If we don't arm—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Up the mountain sounds the battle horn.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">To have lived to see this day!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He hurries up the path and disappears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Val-father's winds have blown them here to die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes up the path. The music is now distinctly heard</i> +<i>above the noise of the storm. A flash of lightning reveals,</i> +<i>in the rear, the dwarf climbing up the mountain,</i> +<i>leading Oswald by the hand. Instantly loud and prolonged</i> +<i>shouting bursts up from about a hundred feet</i> +<i>below. The two come hurrying forward along the</i> +<i>ledge. Oswald's face is streaked with blood and from</i> +<i>the end of its black cord, his silver crucifix, likewise</i> +<i>stained, dangles almost to his knees. Gradually it slips</i> +<i>lower and lower till it finally falls and lies upon the</i> +<i>grass. Having reached the path, they make their way</i> +<i>up and are soon lost to view. That peculiar light which</i> +<i>one sometimes sees when clouds are rifted during a</i> +<i>storm illumines the scene and makes the green grass and</i> +<i>trees show almost like flame. Below, voices are heard,</i> +<i>and soon, climbing up the mountain, Father Benedict</i> +<i>appears, his face pale, his eyes set before him. Upon</i> +<i>the skirt of his snow-white chasuble there is seen, slanting</i> +<i>down, a red streak as though he had pressed against</i> +<i>a bloody sword-blade. Behind him, scattered, come,</i> +<i>first, Hugh Capet with the great flag blown straight</i> +<i>out in the wind, then Jules Bacqueur and Jacques Sar,</i> +<i>their swords dripping, and, after them, the other villagers.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—Straight ahead. Father! Straight ahead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From below.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">See them, Hugh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—You come on; we'll find them.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Instead of coming forward to the path, which the bushes</i> +<i>and bowlders hide from their view, they go pushing</i> +<i>straight on up the rocks.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—Come on, men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Stay together, men! <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Hold her low, Phil!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Up the mountain sounds the battle-horn.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Hear that! Hear that!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Don't get scared, men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Don't get scared! Don't get scared!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A voice</span>—God's with us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">All</span>—God's with us! God's with us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—Come on, men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Wait for the signal! Wait for the signal, men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>All look to the priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—Now, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A voice</span>—Now. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—Signal! signal!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Above, sounds the battle-horn, this time nearer.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Now!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—Now then!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Now! Now! NOW!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Slowly the priest lifts the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">All</span>—God's with us! God's with us!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go springing up the mountain. A flash of lightning</i> +<i>strikes the uplifted crucifix and clings for a moment like</i> +<i>a wreath of blue fire round the brow of the priest whose</i> +<i>face shows white as chalk. The crucifix slips from his</i> +<i>fingers and he reels and falls backwards.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Men! Men! Men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As the men turn and see the priest, whom Jules has caught</i> +<i>in his arms, borne backward down the slope, some of</i> +<i>them throw down their arms and flee terror-stricken</i> +<i>down the mountain. There is a loud crash of thunder</i> +<i>followed, above, by the shouts of the Saxons who come</i> +<i>charging down upon them. Attempting to rescue the</i> +<i>priest's body, before which Bacqueur has thrown his</i> +<i>great shield, the villagers receive the shock and are</i> +<i>driven back fighting down the mountain, Fritz hacking</i> +<i>at Hugh Capet's head-with his battle ax, Rudolph charging</i> +<i>old Jacques, while Canzler with one slash of his</i> +<i>magic sword slices in two Bacqueur's great shield which</i> +<i>falls like paper from his hands. Even after they have</i> +<i>disappeared, from down the mountain can still be heard</i> +<i>the voice of old Jacques calling to his men in God's</i> +<i>name to stand. Up the slope, caught in the bushes</i> +<i>where it fell, hangs the crucifix, the figure of which is</i> +<i>tarnished and melted by the lightning. On the ledge</i> +<i>just below, outstretched upon the grass, his fingers bent</i> +<i>as though still clutching the crucifix, lies the body of</i> +<i>the priest. The scene gradually becomes darker and the</i> +<i>thunder is still heard reverberating through the mountains.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE FOUR—A forest on the mountain tops. Untouched</i> +<i>by the storm, which has swept the lower slopes,</i> +<i>the trees here stand calm and motionless. Flowers are</i> +<i>everywhere. Far off, between the innumerable trunks, is</i> +<i>seen a space of dark sky rifted near the horizon and bright</i> +<i>with the red and gold of the new dawn. From the left,</i> +<i>into this forest stillness, silent as the scene itself, comes</i> +<i>the dwarf leading Oswald by the hand. There is now no</i> +<i>blood upon the latter's face which, slightly upturned, is</i> +<i>lighted as with a soul conscious of a great crisis and hearing</i> +<i>its approach in the least noise. Suddenly, from far</i> +<i>to the right, the voice of Selma is heard. Instantly the</i> +<i>dwarf vanishes. Oswald starts and stands as one in a</i> +<i>dream.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>At first afar, then drawing nearer and nearer until at last</i> +<i>she rushes in gleefully. She is dressed, as in the first</i> +<i>Act, in green, and upon her head she wears a coronet of</i> +<i>wild-flowers.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She starts, and throws herself at his feet, covering her face</i> +<i>with her hands. The disc of the sun, emerging above</i> +<i>the line of clouds, shoots its myriad golden needles</i> +<i>through the wood. Revealed in the light, like things</i> +<i>seen in a mirage, a number of fairies are discerned</i> +<i>watching the two. From far down the mountain comes</i> +<i>the sound of a bell tolling.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="transnote"> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="Transcribers_Notes" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber's Notes:</a></h2> + + +<p>Table of Contents added by Transcriber.</p> + +<p>Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were silently corrected.</p> + +<p>Punctuation normalized.</p> + +<p>Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.</p> + +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 47241 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/47241-h/images/cover.jpg b/47241-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..71e4436 --- /dev/null +++ b/47241-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/47241-h/images/saxonsdramaofchr00scho_0010.png b/47241-h/images/saxonsdramaofchr00scho_0010.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..034578c --- /dev/null +++ b/47241-h/images/saxonsdramaofchr00scho_0010.png diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..187eba9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #47241 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47241) diff --git a/old/47241-8.txt b/old/47241-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a13f86 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/47241-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10356 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Saxons, by Edwin Davies Schoonmaker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + +Title: The Saxons + A Drama of Christianity in the North + +Author: Edwin Davies Schoonmaker + +Release Date: October 30, 2014 [EBook #47241] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAXONS *** + + + + +Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + + + + + THE SAXONS + + A DRAMA OF CHRISTIANITY IN THE NORTH + + + BY EDWIN DAVIES SCHOONMAKER + + THE HAMMERSMARK PUBLISHING + COMPANY, CHICAGO. ILL., 1905 + + COPYRIGHT, FEBRUARY, 1905, + BY + THE HAMMERSMARK PUBLISHING CO. + CHICAGO + + [Illustration: JOHN F. HIGGINS PRINT 279-251 EAST MONROE ST] + + TO MY MOTHER + + + + +PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. + + +THE SAXON UNIT. + + CANZLER, chief of the Saxons. + FRITZ, a shepherd. + RUDOLPH, } + MAX, } foresters. + CONRAD, } + HARTZEL, an old man. + WIGLAF, a gleeman. + OSWALD, a shepherd, afterward a monk. + SELMA, daughter of Canzler. + + +THE ROMAN UNIT. + + FATHER BENEDICT, the village priest. + FATHER PAUL, a friar. + JARDIN, the bailiff. + JACQUES SAR, an old crusader. + JULES BACQUEUR, the smith. + HUGH CAPET, the barber. + MADAM BACQUEUR, wife of Jules Bacqueur. + MADAM VALMY, a country woman. + RACHEL, aunt of Madam Valmy. + ROSA, granddaughter of Rachel. + A BOY. + + +THE GREEK UNIT. + + THE ABBOT OF ST. GILES. + LOUIS, the prior of the abbey. + PIERRE, the sacristan. + ANDREW, an old acolyte. + ELY, the porter. + SIMON, } + RENE, } + BASIL, } monks. + SOLOMAN, } + LEO, } + GUIDO, } + MACIAS, a hunter attached to the abbey. + + +THE SUPERNATURAL. + + SIGURD, apparently a dwarf, really something else. + HULGA, a witch. + ZIP, } + GIMEL, } + KILO, } gnomes. + SUK, } + ZORY, } + FAIRIES. + + Other foresters, monks and villagers, men and women. + + As for me, + Let a man be a man. Outside of that + There is no power on earth that dares ask more; + No power in heaven that will. + +THE SAXONS + + + + +ACT ONE. + + + _SCENE ONE--A road through a forest. On either side trees + stand thick and dark. Immediately in front the light sifts + down upon a rude bridge spanning a narrow stream. At + the roadside, to the right, a large crucifix, apparently_ + _new, stands upon a post some ten feet in height. It is_ + _elaborately carved and is set in a deep frame to protect it_ + _from the weather. At the foot of the post, cut into the_ + _mossy bank which slopes toward the road, is a kneeling_ + _place with a white sheep's pelt lying upon it._ + + _A sound of voices is heard. Fritz and Rudolph enter from the + left and pause where a path leads off through the wood. The + latter has an ax upon his shoulder. Far in the forest a + faint sound of chopping is heard._ + + _TIME--Mid-day in summer, in the early part of the thirteenth_ + _century._ + + RUDOLPH--He's worth six. + + FRITZ-- I'll give you five, you pick them. + + RUDOLPH--I'll pick six. + + FRITZ-- I'll keep my ewes, then. + + RUDOLPH-- And walk + To the mountains? + + FRITZ-- We have not gone yet. + + RUDOLPH-- But-- + + FRITZ--And if I had my way we would not go. + + RUDOLPH--Nor would we go had I mine, Fritz. But we + Have not our way. The dragon has his way. + As far as Niflheim the North is red. + + FRITZ--Are we their sheep that we must follow them + Or be hung up on trees? + + RUDOLPH-- He follows us. + + FRITZ--Who do these woods belong to, anyhow? + + RUDOLPH--Where a man puts his foot the dragon puts + His belly, and the man's track disappears. + Where is the tree that has not felt the storm? + Have they not disappeared? Like leaves the tribes + Are scattered. + + FRITZ-- It has blown down trunk and all. + + RUDOLPH--Forests and rivers and ten thousand graves + Lie under that red paw. + + FRITZ-- It stains the world. + + RUDOLPH--The Weser rolls down bodies to the sea; + Their yellow hair is matted in the Rhine; + The deer that drinks the Aller in the night + Starts back from bloody faces in the stream. + They are our fathers, Fritz, who cannot sleep + While this coiled Hunger tracks us toward the north. + + FRITZ--And we must feed it, eh? We must grub roots, + Fatten ourselves on acorns in the wood, + As swine do, and then waddle to the swamp + And stuff its belly so that it will sleep + And trouble us no more, we must do that? + + RUDOLPH--No; we must leave, and starve it. + + FRITZ-- It don't starve. + More hunger means more flesh. Let's feed it steel. + + RUDOLPH--Steel draws the blood and brings the hunger on. + + FRITZ--Then draw the life. We don't feed it enough. + + RUDOLPH--It eats the blade-- + + FRITZ-- Then feed it hilt and all. + + RUDOLPH--It eats our swords and they come out in claws. + As Canzler says, a thousand spears have but + Peeled off its poisonous scales, and where they fall + A deadly fire burns and the elves die. + + FRITZ--We will call Wittikind. + + RUDOLPH-- From out the grave? + + FRITZ--His spirit will hear. + + RUDOLPH-- Wittikind was baptized. + + FRITZ--His head was baptized, but his heart was not. + A few drops here could not put out a fire + That scarred and seamed the dragon till it lashed, + Maddened and bleeding, all the tribes away. + A spark of him is in this forest. + + RUDOLPH-- Oswald. + + FRITZ-- Yes. + + RUDOLPH--Silent and shy. + + FRITZ-- Their fate whom Woden loves. + He homes the lightning in the silent cloud. + + RUDOLPH--Weak. + + FRITZ-- In himself, but strong by prophesy. + + RUDOLPH--Can you or I or chief hasten the day + Wherein Val-father's voice shall wake the North? + What man can say unto the lightning, "Leap"? + Of Woden's race, a million summer leaves, + We are, as it were, the winter mistletoe, + A lone green sprig with barren woods all round. + Can we shake off the snow and say, "Appear," + To the young race asleep within the trees? + Cry out above the dragon winter, "Die"? + You cannot hurry in its growth one leaf. + Yet you would thrust a sword in Oswald's hands, + Thinking to hurry Prophesy along. + If naked strength can save us, why not chief's? + Why Oswald, if the battle is to be now? + Without the aid of Woden, he is naught. + + FRITZ--Without it, naught, and with it, everything. + + RUDOLPH--Val-father calls to-day then? + + FRITZ-- Wiglaf's ears + Are where the whispers of the dead go by. + + RUDOLPH--Heard he the word, "to-day"? + + FRITZ-- And Wiglaf's eyes + Blazed glee-fire and his lips spake Woden's word: + "In him shall be the strength of all your dead." + + RUDOLPH--In Oswald? + + FRITZ-- In the seed of Wittikind. + "The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout + Shall make the whole North green." + + RUDOLPH-- The "seed" of. + + FRITZ-- Yes. + + RUDOLPH--There, Fritz, is where the whole great purpose turns. + + FRITZ--Eh? + + RUDOLPH--Prophesy, you see, walks in the air. + No man can say on whom it will lay its hand. + + FRITZ--Why? + + RUDOLPH--Would not Oswald's seed be Wittikind's? + Do you not see that some child still unborn, + The issue of Oswald's loins, may be the one + To take the sword that Woden will hand down? + Meanwhile, suppose the Christians hear of this. + Their spies are all about us. + + (_Dropping his voice and pointing to the bridge._) + + Who knows? + + FRITZ--(_After looking under it._) No. + + RUDOLPH--Suppose they once get rumor of it. Then + Suppose they torture Wiglaf for the rest. + Will not a thousand trumpets sound the chase? + Will they not beat the forest through and through, + Set fire to it, and when the stag appears + Shall breed the fawn shall grow the golden horns-- + + (_As though drawing back a bow-string and letting + spring the arrow._) + + Then what? What then? + + FRITZ-- We-- + + RUDOLPH-- We--? + + FRITZ-- We have our swords. + + RUDOLPH--We have them now. + + FRITZ-- And we can keep them. + + RUDOLPH-- We + Can neither keep our swords nor keep ourselves. + Who is it plants the white cross in our land? + The Frank? The Wend? The Saxon; we ourselves. + No; in that fire that burns up from the south + Thousands of our swords have melted and become + Scales on the dragon's back and teeth and claws + That now tear out our hearts. To-day swords strike + For Woden, and to-morrow the strange god + With those same swords storms Valhal, and lays low + Its golden roof. Our ash Iggdrasil dies. + Its beautiful leaves fall far off on the sea. + + FRITZ--Let's kill the worm that bites it, then. + + RUDOLPH-- That worm + Hath bit the Northman and the Northman bites + Val-father. + + (_A crash is heard in the forest._) + + FRITZ-- It was the tree fell. + + RUDOLPH-- So falls + Iggdrasil and the golden roof comes down. + When the North bites, Val-father dies. No, Fritz; + The South has thrown a snake upon the North, + And in its trail no fairy can be found. + They, too, have gone to the mountains. + + FRITZ-- Leave our homes? + + RUDOLPH--For all of us it will be better there. + The slopes are thickly clothed with oak and pine. + There, too, your flock will find good grazing, Fritz. + Conrad and I saw ledges thick with grass. + + FRITZ--It's thick here, too. + + RUDOLPH-- And torrents tumbling down + Fill to the brim the basins of the rocks. + There, in the dryest season-- + + FRITZ-- Look down here. (_He points down in the stream._) + And this mid-summer. + + RUDOLPH-- And game is plentiful. + + FRITZ--It's plentiful here, too; deer and-- + + RUDOLPH-- Chamois + And wild-goats browsing on the crags. + + FRITZ-- And here + Are wild-boars' lairs and-- + + RUDOLPH-- The dragon's den. + + FRITZ--His den is here, but he feeds everywhere. + + RUDOLPH--Not on the mountains. + + FRITZ-- They are barren; but + He would feed there if we should go there. + + RUDOLPH-- No. + + FRITZ--He ravages the whole wide-- + + RUDOLPH-- (_Moving his hand horizontally._) + This way, yes; + But that way? + + (_Pointing up._) + + No. He dare not face the light + That father Woden pours upon the peaks. + Under Valhalla's eaves the dark elf died + When the dawn smote him; so the dragon there. + His paws would break off on the mountain sides. + + FRITZ--We will stay here and cut them off. + + RUDOLPH-- Those paws? + Those huge, red, century-scarred paws? With what? + + FRITZ--They want our woods and crofts, that's what they want. + + RUDOLPH--The Saxon sword is broken. The great shield + That covered all the North lies in the loam + Rusting, and the wild-flowers eat its stains. + Where are our fathers, Fritz? Heimdall, who sees + All races, sees not anywhere that race + That stood at bay when Swabian went down, + Frank and Bavarian and the great North fell. + A paw was put upon its breast and lo, + It is scattered, blood and bones and heart and brain! + Its hand is here; its heart is in the north; + Its head far off an island in the sea; + Its blood is everywhere, in grass, in leaves; + Its flesh still fronts the dragon in these trees. + + FRITZ--And we, we men-- + + RUDOLPH-- Our time has not yet come. + + FRITZ--Must be the feet and run, eh? + + RUDOLPH-- We must wait + Until the heart calls from the silent north. + + FRITZ--Wait? + + RUDOLPH-- You would have us--? + + FRITZ-- If we are the hand, + For the hand strikes. + + RUDOLPH-- Without the head? No, Fritz; + We must delay our battle with the beast. + A new shield we will shape us on the heights; + Temper it in the flashes of the sky + And boss it with the terror of the grave. + Of mountain metal on the mountain tops, + New armor we will forge. Let the old shield + Lie here upon the plain, covering the dead. + Let the leaves cover it. And for the sword + That broken lies between the dragon's paws, + Val-father will reach down and put the hilt + Of some great Fafnir's-bane in Canzler's hand, + Canzler, in turn, in Oswald's when he weds, + And Oswald and the girl will pass it on + Down to the hand of that child-- + + FRITZ-- Canzler go? + + RUDOLPH--Whom Woden shall bid seek the dragon's den, + And Siegfried of the North shall slay the snake. + + FRITZ--Canzler will not go. Canzler! + + RUDOLPH-- He will go. + + FRITZ--Canzler will lay him in the grave first. + + RUDOLPH-- Fritz, + Who calls the fairies? + + FRITZ-- What of that? + + RUDOLPH-- Witchcraft. + + FRITZ--You mean that they will burn her? + + RUDOLPH-- Do they not + Burn witches in the city...? We can die; + We on our swords can perish; but the girl...? + + (_He goes off through the wood, leaving Fritz + silent upon the bridge._) + + FRITZ-- (_To himself._) + Canzler will lay his sword upon her throat. + + (_With bowed head he walks on across the bridge. + As he passes into the deeper shadows the + white sheep's pelt lying in the bank at the + roadside catches his eye. He goes curiously + toward it, when, seeing the post, he glances + up and stops suddenly. For a time he stands as_ + _one appalled._) + + Rudolph! + + RUDOLPH--Ho! + + FRITZ-- Here! + (_To himself._) This will break Canzler's heart. + + (_Rudolph reappears and joins Fritz, and the two + stand in silence, Rudolph with his eyes fixed + upon the crucifix, and Fritz with his eyes on + Rudolph._) + + FRITZ--What do you think? + + RUDOLPH-- It was put up last night. + + FRITZ--You still think we should leave here? + + RUDOLPH-- Still think? + + FRITZ-- Yes. + + RUDOLPH--Can there be any doubt of what this means? + Almost its eyeballs gleam between the trees. + + FRITZ--And if we leave here, what? + + RUDOLPH-- We bear away + To some far mountain nest our eagle's egg. + We save our hope. + + (_Fritz points to the crucifix._) + + Only proves what I say. + 'Tis some poor burgher who refused to bow + And would not leave. + + (_Fritz goes toward the crucifix._) + + And they have put it up + To mock us with the pains they will make us feel + If we don't bow. + + FRITZ-- (_Bending over the pelt._) + Knee prints. He has knelt here; + Knelt here and prayed-- + + (_Coming back to the road._) + + to Woden, do you think? + You know the hand that carved that? + + (_Rudolph goes closer and scrutinizes the + crucifix._) + + Your great sword, + Where is it now, Rudolph? the Fafnir's-bane + Val-father should reach down to Canzler's hand; + To whose hand will the chief's hand pass it now? + Out of the dragon's belly will he come, + Our Siegfried, with the great heart of the beast? + Our hope, our eagle's egg, where is it now? + + RUDOLPH--It can't be. + + _Fritz_-- Can't be? + + _Rudolph_-- Can't be. + + _Fritz_-- But it is. + At dusk last night I saw him in the wood + And he was wending this way carrying that. + And there are knee-prints on it. + + (_A pause._) + + And that thing; + What other hand could have carved out that brow + And laid that sorrow there? Look at those knees. + + RUDOLPH--This is why he has shunned us. + + FRITZ-- Say no word + To Canzler about this or to the girl. + Never will she be happy any more. + He will leave now. + + RUDOLPH-- (_Contemplating the knee-prints._) + Under Val-father's trees! + + FRITZ--Canzler has been a father to the boy. + + (_Rudolph comes toward the road, then turns and + looks back at the Christ._) + + So Balder looked lying on Valhal floor. + If the men hear this, they will vote to die. + + RUDOLPH--He must go quietly and no word be said. + + (_They walk together along the road._) + + FRITZ--The way he goes, the Saxon race has gone. + + RUDOLPH--We must go to the mountains, not the grave. + + FRITZ--Canzler has been a father to the boy. + + RUDOLPH--He may return and bring the Saxon race. + + FRITZ--Who will deliver him? + + RUDOLPH-- Val-father lives. + + FRITZ--(_Bitterly._) Lives with the dead. + + (_He goes out._) + + RUDOLPH-- He may yet be reclaimed. + The paths of Prophesy lead far away + But still the Powers of the air are bent + To guide it and their eyes are on its feet. + Let us not doubt Val-father's hand in this. + That eye in Mimer's fountain sees through all + The dark, gnome-haunted caverns of the earth; + The other under his calm brow watches heaven. + + (_He goes off through the forest._) + + + _SCENE TWO--Under an old beech in the edge of the forest. + A knoll, like the toe of a large boot shoved in from the + rear, butts squarely against the trunk. Up under the + boughs, left, lies a decaying log with here and there a + tuft of rank grass growing from the cores of old knots._ + _Beside it is a small basket filled with berries. At the_ + _foot of the beech, bubbles a spring partly walled in with_ + _dark mossy rocks, on top of which lies a brown gourd_ + _dipper. Two worn foot-paths, one winding up the slope into + the forest, the other entering from the left, meet at the + spring. The ground is checkered with flakes of sunlight_ + _that fall through the leaves, and over all is the silence_ + _of the summer noon._ + + _A crackle is heard as of a dry twig breaking under foot. The + branches on the left swing apart and Selma pushes through + backwards. She is a fairy-like creature dressed in green. + Her hair falls loose about her shoulders and upon her head + she wears a coronet of wild-flowers. Holding the boughs + slightly apart, she stands peering intently to the left, + then, turning quickly, she snatches up the basket and hides + it behind the log, and after picking a few green burrs from + the branches above her, darts to the right and conceals + herself behind the trunk. For a time she stands motionless. + Then, as if upon second thought, she stoops and removes the + dipper from the rocks._ + + _Along the foot-path, leading in from the left, Oswald enters._ + _He stops and looks back and for a time stands thus, as one_ + _undecided, a forlorn expression upon his face. He then_ + _turns and proceeds to the spring. Not finding the dipper,_ + _he lays aside his staff and hat, and stretches himself out + upon the flat stone at the entrance of the spring. While + he is drinking, Selma leans cautiously from behind the + trunk and raises her arm as if to drop something. Having + evidently seen her shadow in the water, Oswald glances + up, but seeing no one, lies down again and drinks. From + behind the hole Selma tosses a burr into the spring. Oswald + continues to drink. Finally he rises, and, taking up his + hat and staff, goes up the slope and sits down upon the + log. The girl moves stealthily around the trunk._ + + OSWALD--Selma. (_After a pause._) + Selma. I saw you in the spring. + + SELMA--I'm there yet, then; you didn't take me out. + + (_She comes round the side of the trunk opposite + the log and, stooping over, looks down into + the spring._) + + O you should see the fishes! two, three, four, + A troop of them! O Oswald, come and see! + They're round a splash of sunlight in the spring. + See how they twinkle and in the current stir + Their little crimson fins. Ah, I've scared them. + I really did; I scared them with my hair. + See how it fell. + + (_She points to a mass of hair that has fallen past + her cheek._) + + It would not hurt them, though. + We must be still; we must not say a word. + They never will play if they see us looking. + + (_Oswald points down into the spring._) + + That little green thing? That's a beech-nut burr. + I threw it in to scare the water-sprite + That looked up at you when you stooped to drink. + You did not see her? Oh, I did. I peeped + Like this, softly, over, over the edge, + And saw her peeping from the mossy stones + Down in the spring. Her hair was loose like mine + And brown as buckeyes, and her lips were stained + With juice of berries. Then I raised my hand. + Thinks I: "I'll drop a beech-nut on his head." + Then she raised hers as if to say: "Be still! + I'll make the bubbles break against his nose." + Was that what made you jump? You scared her so. + I saw her hair fly up about her face + As I leaped back. She lives down in the spring. + This morning as I passed I stooped and said: + "I'm going after berries; won't you come?" + She beckoned to me, too, and seemed to say: + "I can't leave home; my little fish will stray. + You come down here; I have some pretty shells." + Oh, look! Be still! She's let them come again. + See them flash. + + OSWALD-- It's the green shell they're after. + + SELMA--Why, there's no kernel in it. If there were + They could not eat it; it would break their gills, + They are so very thin. + + OSWALD-- We all do that; + We follow shells sometimes. + + SELMA-- O Oswald, look! + See how the little silver bubbles rise. + + OSWALD--And we are like the fishes-- + + SELMA-- Oh, do look! + You are not thinking of the fishes. See! + They follow it through the dimples round and round, + Paddling the current with their little fins, + And poising. They're afraid. They're drawing back. + There, by the green stone. + + OSWALD-- They are safer there + Than in the current. + + SELMA-- See, there's one that still + Nips at it in the eddies. See its scales. + You cannot carve like that. Look out! Oh, oh! + + (_She runs down to the outlet of the spring by + which the minnow has passed out, and walks up + and down, stooping occasionally to feel among + the stones of the rill. Oswald goes back and + sits down upon the log. After a while Selma + rises and looks toward the spring. The trunk + is between her and Oswald._) + + 'Twill grieve her so. + + (_In a low chant, abstractedly._) + + She's sleeping in the spring + Under the dark rock where the white sand pours. + The moss is softer in the forest there, + And there the wood-doves coo. + He's going away; they told me yesterday. + The forest heard them moan: He will not come. + The chestnut burr shall break; + The wild bird, feeding, shake + Unpicked the purple hartcrops to the ground, + And the hushed forest only hear the sound + Of antlers knocking where the wild deer rubs. + He's going away--away--away. + + (_Staring vacantly into the forest, her back to + Oswald, she unconsciously picks the green + burrs from the branches above her._) + + OSWALD--Selma. (_After a pause._) + Come here; will you? + + SELMA-- I'm gathering mast. + My fawns, they like it so. It makes them sleek. + + OSWALD--I want to tell you something. + + SELMA-- Tell me here. + If I had listened to the forest birds, + I'd have no berries. And my fawns must eat. + + OSWALD--'Tis something serious. + + SELMA-- Ah, you've been to town. + + (_As she saunters toward the log she reaches up in + the air._) + + Gossamers, where do they come from, Oswald? + You never are gay when you've heard the bells. + We are going to the mountains, _may_ be. Then + You will not hear them. Are there berries there? + Rudolph said he saw flowers in the ice. + Think of that. Blue-bells.--You are like my crow. + + (_She takes a berry from her basket and holds it up + between her fingers._) + + If you will talk, you may.--I must go home. + + (_She pulls down a bough and begins to pick the + leaves off, one by one._) + + OSWALD--I want you to go with me to the bridge. + + SELMA--I can't. I must go home. Father will think + I have been captured by the villagers. + + (_She removes her basket from the sun and lays the + leaves upon her berries._) + + He said: "You will not find them." But I did. + + OSWALD--Sit down. + + SELMA-- I can't.--It makes my berries red. + Father will say: "You see? They are not ripe." + + (_She goes about under the boughs selecting the + largest of the leaves._) + + It makes them black, then makes them red again. + + (_After a pause._) + + _I_ heard bells ring last night. I dreamed I did. + I called and they called and you would not come. + I thought you could not hear me where you were. + + OSWALD--In a great forest once two children lived. + They used to wander about the wood. One day, + Playing among the trees, suddenly they heard + Small voices calling: "Ho, children!" At that-- + + SELMA--Fairies. (_She comes to the log._) + + OSWALD-- The children rose wide-eyed and let + Fall the wild-flowers they had gathered and stood + Listening. Again the cry: "Ho, children!" + + (_Selma sits down._) + + Then + They, hand in hand, slowly, and half afraid, + Moved forward, and the voices, as they moved, + Moved onward, sometimes above them in the air + Singing, and sometimes in the fernshaws: "Ho, + Here we are!" And then a wisp of sun-bright hair + Flashed in the deeper shadows of the wood. + The children, shouting, "Catch her! There she goes!" + Darted in glee from trunk to trunk. At last + The voices died away. The children saw + The great trees glooming round them-- + + SELMA-- Oh, I know! + They cried themselves to sleep, for they were lost, + And then the birds brought leaves and--Didn't they? + No. + + OSWALD--As night came on, the elder of them, a boy, + Remembering to have heard a holy man + Speak of a house--a holy house--where men + Live as the angels live-- + + SELMA-- Went there? + + OSWALD-- To pray. + To pray for help. + + SELMA-- For the other child? + + OSWALD-- For her. + + SELMA--What did the fairies do? + + OSWALD-- But ere he went, + Carved with his knife upon a tree a sign + A good man in the wood had taught him, a charm + Against the spirit of the forest. Then he + Told her strange words to say and leaving her + Kneeling upon the moss, her little hands + Folded, he went away. (_A pause._) + Not for himself. + + SELMA--And did he not come back? Tell me the rest. + + OSWALD--Come with me to the bridge. + + SELMA-- Did he come back? + + OSWALD--I have carved a charm. + + SELMA-- A charm? + + OSWALD-- For you. + + SELMA-- For me? + + (_A pause._) + + Where are you going, Oswald?--(_A pause._) See my hair. + Why should it scare the fishes? You are wise; + Why should it, Oswald? It is soft as hers + Down in the spring, and if you'll come and look + You'll see the smallest minnows twinkle there; + They do not fear. + + OSWALD-- It is a snare. + + SELMA-- (_Naively._) + Is it? + I would not harm them, Oswald. + + OSWALD-- Father Paul says + It is the snare of Satan. + + SELMA-- I know him. + 'Tis not my hair he uses. + + OSWALD-- (_With horror._) Know Satan! (_He turns away._) + + SELMA--I did not know his name was--Ah, you run! + You are just like the fishes. Come and play. + I will not let it fall. (_Throwing back her hair._) + I will just peep + Over the edge. + + (_Going up the slope to where the boughs hang low, + she begins to gather the green burrs. While + she gathers them, she sings:_) + + _Hark, shepherd, hark; the forest calls_ + _Away to the greenwood still._ + _We'll leave the dewy wether-bell_ + _To tinkle on the hill._ + + _Our ewes shall nibble gowan;_ + _We'll gipsy in the wood;_ + _Our bed shall be the wild plush moss;_ + _Our cruse shall be the flood._ + + _The lush blue whortle-berries_ + _We'll gather eve and morn_ + _And we'll wander where the brocket_ + _Rubs the velvet from his horn._ + _Come, shepherd, come_-- + + I will not sing; the shepherd will not come. + I'll go and call the forest children. (_She takes up her basket._) + + OSWALD-- Selma. + + SELMA--Night-bird hooting at noon! + + OSWALD-- Listen to me. + + SELMA--I'll listen to the jay; he's merrier. + + OSWALD--You are not of the witches that at night + Fly through the air to that far windy crag + That beetles o'er the foam of the wild sea + And there, with orgies lewd to the black goat, + Whirl in the revel with dark Barrabam? + + SELMA--There is no fairy with a name like that. + + OSWALD--He is the prince of fairies and of fiends. + Father Paul says that oft on stormy nights, + When stars scarce venture to the brink of heaven, + Witches go down the sky scattering fogs, + Diseases, blights, and death, and with them go + Those whom their cursed arts have wrought upon + To taste the air of Hell. Far in the West, + From every quarter of the earth and sky + And from those awful rivers, they assemble + And hold their sabbaths on a windy cliff, + A headland hanging over the edge of the world, + About whose base an ocean bellows so + That nothing dares approach save frenzied things. + There, while the moon protrudes an awful horn + Far off at sea and rocks among the waves, + They curse God's watchful planets from the sky + And lead their converts, dizzy with the brew, + To trample on the blood of Christ and swear + To serve the arch-demon who is known to them + As Barrabam. A while ago you said + You did not know his name as Satan. Selma,-- + + SELMA--You said he used my hair, but 'tis not mine. + The other day I saw him in the stream + Snaring the silver chubs. Said he: "My lass, + I'll give two shiners for a lock of hair." + "To snare the fishes with! You horrid man. + I will not give it." And I ran away. + 'Tis not my hair he uses. + + OSWALD--(_Aside._) What a child! + Walking in darkness to the Tempter's snare. + Oh, I would die for you! + + SELMA-- You run away. (_He looks at her._) + You cannot guess what I found in the wood. + + OSWALD--You do not know what danger you are in. + + SELMA--I know the ground-bird lays five speckled eggs; + That filberts wear green hoods. + + OSWALD-- Oh, what of that? + What will that profit in the Judgment Day? + You have not been baptized. You do not hear + The terrible, terrible, groanings of the lost. + O God, you do not know, you do not know! + + SELMA--I know the wood-pink is the first to wake + Of all the flowers. I know where king-cups grow + And wink-a-peeps that sleep when days are dark. + I know when shadows lie beneath the boughs + As they do now, I know you'll never find + A squirrel or chipmunk out in all the wood, + For then the forest sleeps. And I know where-- + + OSWALD--O Selma, listen to me just this once, + And then forever listen to the years + Give back the echo of this golden hour. + Do you remember that day in the wood + When we were gathering may-apples? You ran + Shouting: "Here is a large one," and you stooped + To pick it, when a snake coiled round the stalk, + Hissed at you and you started back in fear. + Had it not hissed you never would have known + That it was there, so green it was, so like + The stalk it coiled about. You saw that one + Because it hissed. But one that hisses not + Is coiled about the world, as like the world + As was the green one to the may-flower stalk. + + SELMA--I have heard father speak of it. He says + That it is full of bones. + + OSWALD-- And souls of men. + Only in holy houses are we safe. + + SELMA--He said that I should not go near the village + In gathering berries. + + OSWALD-- 'Tis the serpent Sin. + Oh, how its sting has marred the perfect world! + Ready to spring, the fiends couch for us. We + Are hunted, Father Paul says, through the world + As was the deer the good saint saved, Saint Giles. + And men are fleeing from the wrath to come. + + SELMA--It cannot come up on the mountain tops. + + OSWALD--(_Fervently._) Call on the Virgin. Yield to Lord Jesus. + Do not reject him. Be baptized. Be saved. + Do you not see that I would die for you? + O Selma, playmate, loved one, promise me-- + + SELMA--I will not eat May-apples any more. + + OSWALD--Oh, not to understand and yet be lost! + + (_He walks away._) + + SELMA--I will not eat them, Oswald. I will not + Go near them if you do not wish me to. + + OSWALD--Some day you will know why. + (_He takes up his staff._) Then you will know + It was not for myself. You will know why. + + (_He stops near the spring._) + + You will remember this--this day--these leaves-- + The golden sunlight on the waters there-- + + (_Thoughtfully, looking down into the spring._) + + And never will come back forevermore. + + SELMA--Oh, yes it will. They will not let her grieve. + The fairies, when they trip the wood to-night, + Will miss her, for she dances with them there. + Oh, you should see them, Oswald. When they dance + She is no bigger than the fairies are. + To see them swing-- + Oh, 'tis a sight to make the wood-dove gay. + + (_Circling round in a dance._) + + _Lightly whirling round and round_ + _Through the forest, scarcely shaking_ + _Flower stalk upon the ground._ + _In the leaves the violets waking_ + _Scatter perfume. Fairies, bow;_ + _Lift their purple hoods and kiss them._ + _Join the dance and leave them now._ (_Ecstatically._) + + One night up in the wood, when silver flakes + Were dancing with the fairies on the moss, + An owl whooped. The fairies scampered off + Into the ferns. The little water elf + I found up close against a gnarled oak trunk, + Hid in a moss-pink in a drop of dew. + Oh, she was tiny as a fairykin! + Her hair was scattered, she was frightened so. + You should have seen her how she looked at me, + As if to say: "You here!" I nod, and then + We laugh together, thinking of the trick + The surly owl played. (_Again she circles round in a dance._) + + OSWALD--(_With horror._) This is enchantment! + This is the cursed spells of forest devils, + Witchcraft and Barrabam, the broth of Hell + And the wild mountain and the swirling sea! + + (_Advancing toward her, he reaches into his bosom + and fetches forth a large silver crucifix + fastened to a black string that encircles his + neck._) + + Selma, touch this, touch this and say with me: + "_Pater noster_--" come--"_qui es in coelis_--" + + SELMA-- (_Still dancing._) + I don't know what it means. + + OSWALD-- "_Pater_--". Repeat. + + SELMA--I say I do not know-- + + OSWALD-- It does not matter. + + SELMA--Then tell me what it means. + + OSWALD-- You must not ask. + You show more faith not knowing. "_Pater_--" Come. + "_Pater noster_--" (_Reaching toward her._) + Will you? + + SELMA--(_Snatching up her basket._) What does it mean? + + OSWALD-- (_Bowing his head._) + I do not know. + + SELMA-- You are just teasing me. + + OSWALD--Selma, listen to me. If our dear Lord, + Who died upon the tree that we might live, + Had meant that we should know what this thing means, + He would have told us. Let us show our faith. + Oh, let us say it as He taught us. Come, + Repeat it with me. "_Pater_--" (_Advancing toward her._) + Will you say it? + + SELMA--(_Skipping up the slope and disappearing through_ + _the boughs._) + I will not till you tell me what it means. + + (_Oswald stands as one who knows not what to do. + Along the path leading in from the left, + Father Paul, the friar, enters. For a time he + stands contemplating the scene before him._) + + FATHER PAUL--My son. Come now. Come now. The Lord Christ calls. + Delay is death. Give up this heathen world. + You cannot save her here. But there, who knows? + Prayer can do much. Go now and get the cross. + I shall wait for you in the grotto here. (_They go out, right._) + + _SCENE THREE--In the depths of the forest. Back through the + trees, to the right, is seen the home of Canzler, a small + cottage built of logs, with antlers over the doorway. It + sits in a space partially cleared, and the light falls + golden about it. Among the trees in the foreground, where + the shadows are thicker, is the stump of a large oak and a + newly fallen trunk extending out left. Over to the right, + at the foot of one of the trees, lies a small bundle + fastened to the end of a stick. At intervals a bird is + heard singing in the forest._ + + _Near the stump several men are gathered. Canzler, facing + right, stands beside the log with his hand resting upon + his ax. He is bareheaded. His sleeves are rolled up above + his elbows and his shirt, open in front, discloses his + broad, hairy breast. Near the stump stands Hartzel, a man + apparently seventy years of age. He wears a long, white + beard and his hands are folded on top of a tall rustic + staff. The others are Fritz and Rudolph and Wiglaf, the + gleeman, in a fantastic garb faded and tattered. On the + other side of the log, to the right of Canzler, is Max,_ + _another woodman, also in his shirt sleeves._ + + WIGLAF--Why did they burn my harp, then? I'm a man. + + FRITZ-- + + (_Leaning forward and speaking in a loud voice in + Hartzel's ear._) + + You hear what Wiglaf says? Says he's a man; + Why did they burn his harp, then? + + CANZLER-- No, Hartzel; + 'Tis not enough with them that we are men; + We must be Christians. + + WIGLAF-- That's it. + + CANZLER-- We must pray + The prayers the priests pray. We must go to church, + Chant when they chant and what they chant and be + Clay, as it were, upon their potter's-wheel. + 'Tis not enough the great All-father wrought + Us in his image; not enough to live + The honest life of man. We must submit + To be remolded to whatever shape + The potter-priest may give us. So we bear + His stamp and pray his prayers and wear the name + Christian-- + + FRITZ-- Then you can steal or-- + + CANZLER-- No, Hartzel; + Mass counts with them much more than manhood does. + + WIGLAF--Canzler's just right. Who ever heard of them + Injuring a man because his life was bad, + If his Faith was good? + + (_Hartzel puts his hand to his ear and looks at + Fritz._) + + FRITZ-- Who ever heard of them + Injuring a man because his life was bad, + If his Faith was good? (_Wiglaf listens to the bird._) + + HARTZEL-- I don't doubt that some would. (_Canzler touches him._) + + WIGLAF--The birds are free to sing Val-father's songs. + Wiglaf must sing the songs men bid him sing + Or have his tongue pulled out. + + CANZLER-- Speaking of Faith, + How can a good man have a bad Faith? Isn't + His life his Faith? + + HARTZEL-- Life his faith? Just so; but-- + But circumstances, Canzler. If we knew-- + + WIGLAF--He thinks I've been a scoundrel. + + HARTZEL-- I don't say. + I don't say that, for I don't know. + + WIGLAF-- Don't know! + + (_Back through the trees to the left, Selma is seen + going toward the cottage._) + + FRITZ-- (_Shouting in Hartzel's ear._) + He says you think he's been a scoundrel? Think + That's why they tried to kill him? + + HARTZEL--(_In amazement._) Why--why--no: + I did not hear, Wiglaf; your back was turned. + + SELMA-- (_Holding up her basket._) + I found them, Father. See? I said I would. + + WIGLAF--That island, Canzler, where they say our race + Rebuilt its kingdom, who knows aught of it? + + CANZLER--No word has reached us from that far off land. + + WIGLAF--It used to live in gleemen's songs, but now-- + + CANZLER--Old men recall it as a forgotten thing. + + (_Selma enters the cottage._) + + WIGLAF--In what sea lies it? + + CANZLER-- Where the Frankish land + Looks toward the setting Balder, I have heard. + + WIGLAF--And does this river off here empty near it? + + CANZLER--First flowing through wide forests and high rocks. + + (_Wiglaf walks to and fro thoughtfully._) + + HARTZEL--I don't doubt you've been wronged, Wiglaf. I don't + Doubt that they're arming. What I do say is + Who knows it is against us? + + WIGLAF-- Wait and see. + + HARTZEL--It may be they are mustering a host + To take the East again. Nigh forty years + Ago now, Frederic Red-beard--Canzler here + Remembers; he was young then--mustered + Nigh on to four score thousand, Canzler? + + CANZLER-- About. + + HARTZEL--And they were not against us. + + WIGLAF-- (_Taking up the bundle and starting right._) + Farewell, all. + + CANZLER--Where are you going, Wiglaf? + + WIGLAF-- There's no place + In all this land for Wiglaf. + + CANZLER-- Don't say that + While that roof stands. + + WIGLAF-- It won't stand long, Canzler. + + FRITZ-- (_Clenching his hands._) + 'Twill stand till he won't need it any more. + + WIGLAF--Wild deer shall listen and no foot be heard. + + CANZLER--Have you forgotten your inspired word? + + (_Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances._) + + WIGLAF--But centuries may pass ere that child comes. + + (_Selma comes from the cottage and begins to gather + dry leaves and chips about the doorway. She + is singing to herself and her voice comes + faintly through the trees._) + + CANZLER--Or in these hard days have you, too, lost faith + In Woden? + + WIGLAF--Wiglaf lose faith in Woden! + O chief! + + (_Looking down._) + + What shall Wiglaf say? Shall the skald, + Whose eye sees through the darkness, see no light? + Beyond the winter see no spring, beyond + The storm, no calm? (_He starts away._) + + CANZLER-- Stay here with us, Wiglaf. (_Selma enters the cottage._) + + WIGLAF--Lose faith in Woden when the north wind blows? + Think the trunk dead because the boughs are bare? + Shall the bloom live forever, and the seed + Not swell and break its pod and find the earth? + Val-father sows and reaps and sows again. + Our race has come to harvest, and the hands + Of southern reapers have laid low the tribes, + Bound them in sheaves and stacked them far away + And threshed them out on many a bloody field. + + CANZLER--And the war-maidens have gleaned heroes there. + + WIGLAF--Gleaned them and sown them in the earth again. + The years fall white upon the silent tribes. + Val-father's winter locks them in the ground. + + (_Looking up at the trees._) + + But O, O chief, these, too, were once down there. + + CANZLER--The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout. + + (_Fritz bows his head and walks back among the + trees._) + + RUDOLPH-- (_From a pent-up heart._) + Shall it, Wiglaf? + + CANZLER-- The bare North shall be green. + + WIGLAF--Be red. + + CANZLER-- Wiglaf! + + WIGLAF-- The young leaves come out red. + As one who puts his ear against a door + + (_He gets down and puts his ear to the earth._) + + And hears within a noise of armed men, + I hear the washing of Val-father's waves + Rushing from Naastrand where their bodies lie + Piled on the dark shore where the ships come not. + + CANZLER--Bringing them back. + + WIGLAF--(_Rising._) With shock of arms, O chief, + The breaking of the bark. + + CANZLER-- Then comes the leaf. + + WIGLAF--Red from the breaking of-- + + CANZLER-- It shall be green. + + WIGLAF--Bragi is singing the white years away. (_He goes out right._) + + CANZLER--We may be few, Wiglaf, but-- + + MAX-- Stay with us. + + WIGLAF--He beckons from that island in the sea. + Wiglaf must go where Bragi calls. + + CANZLER-- Oh, say + "Hail," to that kindred land! + + (_He drops his ax against the log._) + + From us say "Hail!" + + (_Stepping past the stump._) + + Oh, if you find them holding up the North, + Oh, tell them, Wiglaf, to keep iron hearts! + Say that the ancient trunk of Wittikind + Shows a green sprout! Say all the North is green! + + RUDOLPH--Go with us to the mountains! + + FRITZ-- Stay and die! + + CANZLER--Or say--say, Wiglaf, say--it shall be green! + + (_Smoke is seen curling above the roof of the + cottage._) + + HARTZEL--I did not say he was a scoundrel. Eh? (_To Rudolph._) + Did I? Did I, Max? (_Calling to Canzler._) + Where is he going? + I don't doubt he's been wronged; I don't doubt that. + Where's he-- + + (_Fritz comes forward._) + + RUDOLPH (_To Max._)--We must leave here. + + FRITZ-- We must stay here. + + (_In Hartzel's ear._) + + He says we, too, must leave here. + + HARTZEL-- Leave? What for? + What have we done? + + FRITZ-- But I say stay and die. + Let them thresh us out, too. (_To Max._) What do you say? + + RUDOLPH--What do you say, Max? + + MAX-- I say stay and live. + They cannot kill us. + + RUDOLPH-- How so? + + MAX-- If they do, + They must kill Oswald, too. Then where's the child? + + (_Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances._) + + Where then's Val-father's promised child? + + FRITZ-- Max-- + + RUDOLPH-- No. + + CANZLER-- (_Returning to the stump._) + The question, Hartzel, is not what they've done; + It's what they think they have a right to do. + They own, they think, our bodies and our brains. + There is no thing or thought or word or deed + Can take its way, but must report to them + And square itself and do a bondman's work. + They have a right, they think, to chop the North, + Lop off her great green boughs and graft instead + The South's pale branches. + + FRITZ-- To bear bastard fruit. + + CANZLER--The oak's red blood must nourish olive leaves. + They would remake the world Val-father made + And take the seasons from his great right hand. + We must be like them or be not at all. + Like them in manhood, Hartzel? + + FRITZ-- No; in Faith. + And even their gods know not the Saxon tongue. + + RUDOLPH--If a man speak Val-father's name, he dies. + + MAX--And we must die if we be not baptized. + + FRITZ--Must even ask of them what we may eat! + + CANZLER--Why is it not enough to be a man? + To do a man's work and to live a life + Free like the wild deer, and to grow like these? + + (_He looks about upon the trees._) + + You, Hartzel, have lived longer than we have + And you have seen more seasons, and you know + In father Woden's forests how the trees + Grow as they will, acknowledging no lord + But him who made them to be lordless, and + Obeying no law save that law that bids + Each be itself and bring forth its own fruit. + In all the populous forests of this world + There is no tyrant tree that lifts its head + Above the rest and says, "Obey my law." + For each tree hath its own law in itself, + And no tree hears another, but each hears + The voice of father Woden in the loam + Laying the law of selfhood on each seed. + The seed bursts and the law starts toward the sky. + The acorn lays it softly on the oak, + The chestnut on the chestnut, and the pine + Upon the loftiest mountain hears its cone + Whispering with father Woden in the air, + Learning the law it taketh to the ground. + Thus by that law that each tree be itself, + This forest hath become a stalwart state, + A nation governed by one law, a vast + Green kingdom of ten thousand happy trees + With father Woden monarch in the boughs. + The law of selfhood is the law of trees; + Who says the law of sameness governs man? + Because the South has not the girth of trunk + To bear Val-father's weight upon its boughs, + Must he climb down from ours and let the South + Climb up and with its law bind leaf and limb? + Did he, who made these oaks to grow and spread + Their branches, make our branching minds to be + Pinched to a point and put inside a ring? + + HARTZEL--But they say that they got that ring from some + God that once came down-- + + CANZLER-- From their southern skies? + Who gave the southern cypress mouth to speak + Val-father's law unto the northern pine? + God, do you say, come down to bind men? _God?_ + A _God_ that _binds?_ (_Looking up at the trees._) + I see no ring on these. + + FRITZ--Loki is a smith. He made their ring. + + CANZLER--Where in our northern sagas will you find + A track of any shackle-bearing god? + In all the past has any such a god + Come down the northern sky? All round the walls + Of Midgard stand the Asas guarding man + Against whatever brings bonds. + + (_Selma comes from the cottage with a bucket._) + + FRITZ-- Sons of Lok. + + CANZLER--The southern gods may bring down shackles, but + The northern hammer breaks the shackles off. + + SELMA-- (_From back among the trees._) + I'm going after water, Father. + + CANZLER--And one shall come to take that hammer up. + + MAX--The Asas walk the walls of Midgard still. + + (_Selma goes out left._) + + RUDOLPH --Val-father made the mountain rocks to be + The bastions of the oppressed. + + FRITZ-- He made the grave. + + (_He sits down on the log and takes his head + between his hands._) + + CANZLER--"In him shall be the strength of all your dead." + No, Hartzel; as Fritz says, their ring was wrought + Far in the south at that old fire that burns + Eternal mid the hills. Of old they forged + Law for our fathers, and, with iron hands, + Welded it on them. For five hundred years + The noise of that old furnace filled the world, + And from her red mouth link on link her hands + Drew one continuous shackle, and the North + Walked heavily, until Val-father's spear + Flashed southward. Then the noise stopped. The great beast, + That wore for head and neck those seven hills, + Roused her and saw her whelps come bleeding back + And heard wild Tyr holloing the tribes for dogs + Round her on every side, and rose at bay + And clawed through bloody foam and ceased and saw + Her hills go round and round and with a crash + Stretched her vast skeleton over all the south. + + HARTZEL--Then she is dead. + + CANZLER-- Rome dead? + + HARTZEL-- If she is bones. + + CANZLER---Bones, Hartzel, are not dead. The life returns. + The ghastly thing moves in the silent night + When swords are sleeping and the ear hears not. + Old hands scratch round old battle-fields and there + The skulls that wore the helmet don the hood, + And when the morning breaks no man will say. + "The thing that stands there is the thing that fell." + Our father found it so. For after that + Great hunt down in the south, the tribes lay down + And slept and woke and saw--they knew not what. + It wore a sword, but had no hauberk on. + 'Twas robed in black and on each shoulder sat + What seemed an eagle in a vulture's plumes. + They, too, thought bones were dead, and seeing no + Mark of their swords upon it nor anywhere + The indenture of those old hills in the south, + They showed it all the paths among the tribes. + + FRITZ--Welcomed it to their homes. + + MAX-- And took its ring. + + RUDOLPH--And then lay down and slept and never woke. + + CANZLER--If Rome is dead, whence all these harried lands, + Wigmodia and the Phalias, East and West? + + RUDOLPH--There, even to this day, the clay is red. + + CANZLER--If Rome is dead, what is this thing that now + On hands and knees creeps on us toward the north + Gathering flesh for its bones as it comes? + + HARTZEL--Most of them have gone over to their Faith. + + CANZLER--Most of them? Most of them lie, as Wiglaf says, + Piled on the dark shore where the ships come not. + + FRITZ--Between the ring and sword they chose the sword. + + CANZLER--What is this thing that says, "Accept this Faith," + But the same thing that to our fathers said, + "Accept this Law"? It is the same old Rome. + The snake hath cast her skin but not her fangs. + Witness the rivers red. Witness the charred + Track of the dragon and these silent lands. + Has she not gathered flesh? Has she not clothed + Her limbs and filled her bowels with the North? + Climb to the clouds and call the Saxon race + And who will answer? Silence. + + RUDOLPH-- And the streams + Moaning and hurrying red waves to the sea. + + CANZLER--There is a day that would but cannot die. + That day-- + + MAX AND RUDOLPH--At Verden. + + CANZLER-- When our fathers died + Unarmed, defenceless, butchered, Hartzel. + Ah, that day hides her face among the years + But cannot hide her hand. Val-father has-- (_Closing his fingers._) + Her wrist in his grasp and holds that hand aloft + To drip and rouse the North, and it shall drip + Till Ragnarok shall swallow it up at last + And vomit it out to bleed forevermore. + Four thousand and five hundred in one day! + Till set of sun, all day the axes swang, + And when night fell the Aller's waters slipped + Thick through the headless bodies in her bed. + Oh, for once more a day like Dachtelfeld! (_He turns away._) + + RUDOLPH--Val-father's spear shall flash again, Canzler. + There shall a horn wind that shall rouse the tribes + And strew those bones again. + + FRITZ-- Let's wind it now. + + HARTZEL (_To Canzler._)--Do you think we should leave here? + + RUDOLPH-- Yes. + + FRITZ-- No. + + MAX-- No. + Our Wittikind shall come and-- + + CANZLER-- They shall hear + The North's great hammer ringing round the world. + Max, you tell Conrad that we meet to-night. + Have Herman come. (_Max goes out left._) + And, Rudolph, you go down-- + + HARTZEL-- (_Touching, him with his staff_.) + Canzler, you said just now the point was not + What they have done. + + CANZLER-- Nor is it. + + HARTZEL-- Then why this + Summoning of the men? Are we to have war? + + (_Fritz and Rudolph, talking together, walk back + among the trees._) + + CANZLER--Hartzel, the past and present are two limbs + On one tree. Though the one bears withered leaves + And these on this around us here are green, + The trunk is the same; the sap is the same; + The new fruit is the old fruit. What to-day + Is Wiglaf fleeing to the ocean isles + But the whole Saxon race? What is his harp + In ashes but our homes and all this land? + Are those graves yonder old? Were these, our scars, + + (_Opening his bosom._) + + Handed down from our fathers? When we start + Alarmed in the night, is it the past we fear? + There is no past to things that have been dead. + It is a scabbard empty of its sword. + What shall we do? Accept their Faith? + + HARTZEL-- No, no. + + CANZLER--Without it, we must steal the air we breath + And thank Val-father if we get it then. + Their blades are out; shall we not lift our shields? + Wolves are we? Wolves are not hunted so. + Bears have the caves; must our cave be the grave? + There is no room there. How then can we die? + After his great meal, Death hath lain him down. + Famine, the gleaner, has the field. There is + No plot unreaped, no sheaf unflailed. The barns + Are stuffed to breaking with the dead. And we, + In this great carnage, in this harvest-home, + The last few straws whisked from the threshing-floor, + Hunted by that old Hunger of the south + From field to wood, from wood to darker wood, + Far up strange rivers and--down under them-- + Hartzel, remember; when we fall, there goes + Down the whole North. We alone stand. Of all + Val-father's oaks, there's but one acorn left + That can re-forest and make green the North. + Rudolph and you and I and the rest, save one, + Are, as it were, its protecting shell. Off there, + A sword is coming toward us, and shall we + With hands down take the point and hear the unborn + Wail of that child that should have filled the north + With shouts and wound his horn upon its hills? + Behind him, in array, the dead tribes come + On fire for the south; their umbered shields + Upon the gunwales lour; and shall the snake + Swallow the haven where that host must land? + See the North die? Never. (_He turns as if to call Rudolph._) + + HARTZEL--Accept their Faith, + We need not. + + CANZLER--Die? + + HARTZEL--We need not. (_A pause._) We might flee. + + CANZLER-- (_Emphatically._) + Canzler will never vote to flee. + + FRITZ-- Hear that? + Canzler will never vote to flee. (_Coming forward._) + Nor Fritz, chief. + + CANZLER--Where could we flee? + + FRITZ-- We have already fled. + + CANZLER--No. + + (_Hartzel turns and, with his face to the ground, + walks slowly left._) + + RUDOLPH--Canzler, listen to me. + + (_Unnoticed, Conrad appears coming through the + trees on the right. Several young squirrels + hang from the belt about his waist and in + his right hand is a cross-bow. Upon his left + shoulder he carries the crucifix which he has_ + _pulled up, post and all._) + + CANZLER-- The red ax + They swung at Verden swings clear round the North + And her great head falls. + + (_With a jolt Conrad sets the crucifix down and + leans it against one of the large trees._) + + Where did that come from? + + CONRAD--Over on the road; by the bridge. + + (_Canzler goes toward it. Fritz quickly says + something to Rudolph. The latter walks lack + in the rear._) + + RUDOLPH-- (_As if to draw him away._) + Canzler, here. + + CONRAD--There was a sheep's pelt lying in the bank-- + + (_With a motion._) + + Down here where we could kneel to it. + + HARTZEL-- (_Coming back._) + What is it? + + CONRAD--It is the Christians' Irminsul. They chop + Ours down to put theirs up. + + RUDOLPH-- Canzler. + + FRITZ-- The men + That followed Wiglaf must have put it up. + + CONRAD--They're closing round us, Canzler, every day. + If you say stay and fight through, for my part-- + + (_Suddenly Canzler turns and looks Conrad full in + the face._) + + I know I did, but if the rest say stay-- + + (_After looking tip at the crucifix again, Canzler + turns slowly and walks away left._) + + What is the matter? + + (_When near the stump, Canzler again glances back; + then drops his head and walks on among the + trees. Conrad turns to Fritz._) + + What is the matter? + + HARTZEL-- (_Apologetically, following him._) + Canzler, I hope I have said nothing. I-- + I did not mean flee--in that sense. (_Canzler goes out._) + I meant + Leave. + + (_He goes out. The men stand looking after them. + Rudolph comes forward._) + + FRITZ--This will break Canzler's heart. + + CONRAD-- What? + + RUDOLPH-- (_Pointing to the crucifix._) + Oswald. + + FRITZ--We tried to keep it from him. + + RUDOLPH-- Selma, too. + + FRITZ--Canzler must never tell her. + + CONRAD-- Where is he? + + RUDOLPH--No one has seen him since last night when Fritz-- + + FRITZ--I saw him with the pelt-- + + RUDOLPH-- (_Quickly._) + Here comes Canzler. + + (_The men assume an expression of unconcern._) + + CONRAD-- (_Aloud._) + Whatever Canzler says. If he says stay-- + + (_Canzler appears among the trees. He stops and + looks off through the forest to the right, + and his brow darkens._) + + FRITZ--And brought it out from town and put it up. + + (_Rudolph lifts up the squirrels at Conrad's belt._) + + CONRAD--There were not many in the woods to-day. + + CANZLER-- (_Coming forward and giving his orders hastily._) + Rudolph, you and Fritz go summon the men. + Go with them, Conrad. + + (_Fritz glances off through the forest, right._) + + RUDOLPH-- That we meet to-night? + + CANZLER--This afternoon. Be quick. (_The men start back left._) + + FRITZ--(_Huskily._) Oswald. (_Conrad glances right._) Oswald. + + (_Rudolph glances right, and the three go out in + silence. Canzler, who has stepped left, + stands in the shadow of one of the trees. A + little later Oswald appears coming through + the trees to the right. He is looking about as_ + _if in search of something._) + + CANZLER-- (_Firmly, but without passion._) + There, there it is. Take it, take it and go. + + OSWALD--(_Downcast, stammering._) I-- + + CANZLER--(_Lifting his hand._) No word. + + (_Oswald moves slowly to the tree, takes the + crucifix upon his shoulder, and, with bowed + head, goes off right._) + + SELMA--(_Calling from the left._) Oswald! + + (_The girl enters with her water. She stops, looks + after Oswald until he has disappeared, + then turns with a questioning look to her + father._) O father! + + CANZLER-- As for me, + Let a man be a man. Outside of that, + There is no power on earth that dares ask more; + No power in heaven that will. + + (_He turns and goes back toward the cottage._) + + SELMA--(_With a sigh, looking right._) Oswald, Oswald. + + + + +ACT TWO. + + + _SCENE ONE--A forest on the mountain tops, the great trees + glooming with the shadows of nightfall. In the distance, + between the dark boles, patches of sky with the fading + light of evening. The scene slopes down into a clump of + tangle-wood on the left. Up the slope, upon a stump that + stands out from among the trees, Selma is sitting with + her head bowed, her face almost hidden by her hair which + has fallen forward across her shoulders. She is dressed + in dappled fawn-skin. In her hand she has a spray of + dog-wood blossoms from which she is thoughtlessly tearing + the leaves. From the thicket below, three fairies steal in + one after another, having in their hands wild-flowers and + ferns._ + + _TIME--Early spring, three years later._ + + FIRST FAIRY-- (_Running a little way up the slope and stopping._) + Sister, see! (_Holding forth her flowers._) Kingcups! + + SECOND FAIRY--(_Running closer._) Sister, see, I bring + The laced fern. + + THIRD FAIRY--(_Running still closer._) See, see! Violets, sister! + I found them waking in an open place + Where the dew falls. (_Together they approach the stump._) + + SECOND FAIRY--(_Softly._) Sister! + + THIRD FAIRY-- Flowers, sister. + + (_The first stoops down and looks up into Selma's + face. The others whisper together. From the + thicket below, two other fairies enter._) + + FOURTH FAIRY--(_Stopping._) Hark, how it tinkles! + + FIFTH FAIRY--It's the dew falling. (_They hurry up the slope._) + + FIRST FAIRY--(_Rising quickly._) Her eyes are wet! + + SECOND AND THIRD--(_To fourth and fifth._) Her eyes are wet! + + FOURTH FAIRY-- Sister, + Anemones are opening in the wind. + + FIFTH FAIRY--And every pink is jeweled in the fells. + + FIRST FAIRY--And here are buttercups. + + THIRD FAIRY-- And violets. + + SECOND FAIRY-- (_Stooping._) + See, sister, here I bring the first frilled fern. + I found it where the dashing water-fall + Sprayed it. It was uncurling near a rock. + + SELMA-- (_Without looking up._) + I do not like you, for you will not tell. + + (_The fairies start and exchange glances._) + + FIRST FAIRY--Oh, see the dew-globes break upon the moss! + + (_She runs back a little way among the trees. + The others follow her and they talk among + themselves._) + + SECOND FAIRY--Where is he now? + + THIRD FAIRY-- He is making his way + To his cold dark cell in the cold dark house + Where the lizards dart and the crickets call. + + FIRST FAIRY--I heard the grind of his wooden shoe + On the mountain road; but she must not know. + + FOURTH FAIRY--We stood in the pines and we saw him pass, + A thin white shadow she would not know. + + FIFTH FAIRY--And, sisters, he turned his face to the stars + And we heard him sigh. + + FOURTH FAIRY-- And we heard him sigh. + + THIRD FAIRY--It must be, it must be, for he cannot see. + + FIRST FAIRY--He cannot see till he sees no more. + + SELMA-- (_As before._) + You said he would come when the dog-wood bloomed. + + SECOND FAIRY--Oh, see them! + + THIRD FAIRY-- See the fairies! + + (_They all look up the slope._) + + FIRST FAIRY-- Round they go, + In their ringlets whirling, whirling. + + FOURTH FAIRY--At every sparkle racing through the wood, + From crottle, kingcup, and green maiden-hair + In dainty gowpens fetch the dewy globes + And slide them down the sagging gossamers + To light them in the dance. + + (_They glance toward the stump. Seeing that they + have not succeeded in attracting Selma's + attention, they take hands and circle toward + her singing._) + + _Hark the bracken rustle, sister._ + _Other elves are awaking, peeping,_ + _While the cowslip buds are weeping_ + _On the downs and in the dells._ + _Trip it softly, softly, sister,_ + _Lest the stock-dove, lightly sleeping,_ + _Wake and hear our fairy bells._ + + (_After circling round the stump and seeking in + every way to induce her to join them, one + of them tries gently to take the spray of + dog-wood blossoms from her hand._) + + SELMA--(_Calling aloud._) Father! + + FIRST FAIRY--Oh, smell the wood pinks! They are waking now. + + SECOND FAIRY--The bees are stirring in the gum. + + THIRD FAIRY-- O sisters, + I know a brake where the brown quails sleep. + Let's tip the leaves and let the star-light on them. + + (_Four of them run up the slope one after another + and each in turn as she disappears among the + trees glances back and calls to Selma._) + + FIRST FAIRY--Sister! + + SECOND FAIRY-- Sister! + + THIRD FAIRY-- Sister! + + FOURTH FAIRY-- Sister! + + (_The fifth fairy stands for a time looking after + the others, then comes to the stump and sits + down at Selma's feet._) + + FIFTH FAIRY-- Sister, + If you will come and play, I'll show you slim + Young heath-bells in the dingle. Won't you, if + We take you where may-apples grow and pinks + Bend with their fairy mirrors on the moss? + + VOICE-- (_From the thicket below._) O sister! + + (_The fairy starts up and skips down the slope._) + + SELMA-- (_Without looking up._) + Three times it has bloomed and he does not come. + + SIXTH FAIRY-- (_Entering hurriedly from the thicket._) + We were floating along on the river mist + And saw them creep up the mountain side-- + + SEVENTH FAIRY-- (_Entering._) + And heard them plotting and heard them say: + "We will throw him down, we will throw him down." + + SIXTH FAIRY--We called in his ear, but he did not hear, + + (_The seventh starts up the slope toward Selma._) + + FIFTH FAIRY--Oh, do not tell her! Oh, do not tell! + + SEVENTH FAIRY--They will throw him down! They will throw him down! + + FIFTH FAIRY--Oh, catch him with delicate hands as he falls + Into the mist and-- + + SIXTH FAIRY-- Save him! + + SEVENTH FAIRY-- Save him! + + FIFTH FAIRY--And I will run to the mountain cave. + + (_The two fairies hasten out through the thicket, + the fifth disappears back among the trees, + left. Singing is heard up the slope. A moment + later, a number of fairies circle in with + green boughs in their hands._) + + _On the downs and in the dells._ + _Trip it softly, softly, sister,_ + _Lest the stock-dove, lightly sleeping,_ + _Wake and hear our fairy bells._ + + FIRST FAIRY--Oh, something black tumbled into the mist! + + SECOND FAIRY--And something bright--what was it, sister? + + FIRST FAIRY--A star, I think; it glanced and fell. + + THIRD FAIRY--Sister, it flashed like a silver cross. + + FOURTH FAIRY--And plopped into the brook. Did you see the ripples + Glitter in the moon? + + SECOND FAIRY-- O sisters, see! + The will-o'-the-wisps rush down the valley fogs, + Their white veils trailing round the tall dark crags. + + (_They hurry down the mountain. Selma, startled, + gets off the stump and runs a little way back + in the wood and, stopping, looks after them._) + + VOICE OF CANZLER-- (_Up the slope._) + Where are you, child? (_He enters._) + Why do you stand out here + In darkness? + + SELMA--They have gone away again. + + CANZLER-- (_Who waits till she comes near him._) + Do not ask anything to stay, my child. + Where the leaf goes the tree goes, and the rocks + Flow away with the waters to the sea. + + (_They go up the slope together._) + + SELMA--He does not come and they will not tell. + + (_She stops and looks back._) + + CANZLER--Let us go home and watch the stars come out + Above the mountains where Val-father lives. + Perhaps the Norns will spin us a white thread. + + (_They go out, Selma looking back._) + + + _SCENE TWO--A mountain cavern with jutting ledges of rock. + From the bones that lie about, one would imagine it to be + a den to which wild beasts drag and devour their prey. To + the right, a vine, growing out of the crevice in the rear + wall, shows by its leaves becoming a darker green as it + spreads to the right that the entrance is in that direction_ + _and near by. Bowlders, evidently used for seats, lie here + and there, and in the rear, center, a smouldering fire + throws their shadows about the floor and walls. Several_ + _willow baskets freshly woven hang on pegs driven into + seams in the rocks. To the left, an old spinning wheel with + a thread trailing from it, and near it, upon the floor, a + quantity of black wool. Farther over in the corner, a couch + of rushes and forest grass. From the ledge that projects + out over it hang bunches of dry herbs. In the left wall, + extending to the ceiling and barely wide enough to admit + of one's passing through, is a cleft whence are heard at + intervals the muffled sound of hammers far down in the + earth._ + + _To the right of the fire, Sigurd, the dwarf, is peeling + osiers. He is barefooted. About his neck he wears a string + of buckeyes. Beside him, upon the floor, lies a pile of + white osiers newly peeled. Occasionally he takes the withes + in his mouth and tears the bark off with his teeth. On the_ + _other side of the fire, reclining upon his elbow, the gnome_ + _Kilo is poking the coals with a stick._ + + _Despite the red glow of the fire, the cave is quite dark._ + + KILO--Love the monks, eh? + + VOICE--(_To the left._) Kilo! + + KILO-- Granny says you do. + + VOICE--Kilo! + + KILO--Hush! I'm tired. + + VOICE--Loki wants you. (_After a pause._) Kilo! + + KILO-- (_To himself._) + Call on; Kilo don't care. It's sweat and drudge + And puff and hammer the livelong day + At the blazing forge, and then all night + The big black sledges swing and fall. + I'm tired. You love the bells? + + VOICE-- Kilo! You hear? + + KILO-- + Dumb, are you, elf-brat? You squealed loud enough + The night that Granny found you on the moss + White as a hail-stone, thunder-whelped, and cold. + "Tweakle! tweakle!" Elf-cub, are you? + + VOICE-- Kilo! + + KILO-- (_Out of temper._) + Tell him I've gone with Granny. + + (_From the left Zip enters. Under his arm he + carries a great sword, the blade of which he is + burnishing with a piece of sand-stone._) + + ZIP-- Where is she? + + KILO--Darkening the moon. + + ZIP-- Is to-night the time? + + KILO-- (_With a look warning him of the presence of the dwarf._) + Got the runes cut on it? + + (_Zip hands the sword to Kilo and goes over and + stands near the vine. Kilo examines the + curiously wrought haft._) + + ZIP-- Listen! + + KILO-- (_Sitting up._) What is it? (_They listen._) + + ZIP--The geese are out. + + KILO--(_To the dwarf._) Hear that, gozzard? Do you? + + ZIP--Hark! Hissing, they go down the mountain side + With flip-flap of their big grey wings. + (_He returns toward the fire._) Last night + The monks' new hunter wrung two ganders' necks. + I found their heads in the grotto. + + KILO--(_Poking the dwarf with the sword._) Hear that, lob? + You herd the goslets for the holy men? + Next thing you'll grind the scauper for the monk, + And help him carve the cross. Granny'll get you. + + ZIP--Where's Suk and Gimel? + + KILO-- Digging water-herbs + Down in the marsh. (_He rises and the two walk left._) + 'Twas said to throw him off. + The young imp shoots his ears out like a snail + To feel about for danger to the monks. + If he should hear the gnomes are out for blood, + You'd see him, he'd be footed like a hare + To put the monk on guard. + + (_From the right, Zory enters. He crooks his back, + screens his eyes with his hand, and walks + feebly._) + + ZORY-- "O dear! my eyes! + Rosa, is the moon up, dear?" Ha, ha! Zory! Zory! + + (_He takes up the sword from the floor, and using + it as a cane, walks unsteadily._) + + ZIP--Steal into the abbey, will they? + + KILO-- No, no. + He's down in the village. At break of day + I saw the blur of his big black gown + In the mountain mists as he made his way. + To-night he will come from the little town. + Then Suk and Gimel--the road runs by + Where some wild vines dangle. + (_As though jerking them._) And far below, + The waters gurgle. + + ZORY-- They will? Ho, ho! + + KILO-- (_Huskily, nodding toward the dwarf._) + The spy of Woden. + + ZORY--(_Dropping his voice._) If that's the plan, + Then the old dame with her gimlet eye + Sees farther than Woden's ravens can. + At dusk I crept over behind the town. + Some boys were up on the mountain side + Running a cow they were driving down, + With puff-balls pelting her brindled hide. + On a slope of heather I knew a sink + Where a brown backed bunny was wont to squat, + To warm his fur in the sun and wink + At the shadows darkening a cabbage plot. + Says I: "Now Zory will have some fun. + He'll start the hare for the village boys + And hear them hollo and see them run." + With barking of dogs and a hue and a cry + They will soon be off, and, flying the noise, + Wat will go bobbing across the down. + I'm off for the heather when lo, I hear, + Behind the sallows that fringe the foss, + A sneeze and a sigh and then, "O dear!" + Some women are trying to get across. + I hide in the dock. The dames pass by + With baskets of bennet. I hear one say: + "With our dear Lord hanging upon the tree, + And oh, such a beautiful, beautiful cross + No one ever saw, so the people say + Who have peered in the window. And think, la me! + In another day and another day + My every prayer will have been fulfilled. + May the Virgin spare us." The other sighs + And, scanning the shadowy mountain side: + "I fear he will never complete it, Clotilde. + He climbs that dreadful mountain at night. + Can you see him now? Oh, I fear, I fear + Those awful rocks where the devils hide! + It seems so dark. Rosa, is the moon up, dear?" + To see the old dame as she-- + (_Mimicing with the sword for a cane._) daddled on + With her skirt in her hand, through the dewy grass, + Her little whisket of herbs on her arm + To keep off the devils, and mumbling a mass + And snuffling and moaning and sighing, "O dear! + It's a wicked world." + + (_He laughs till he falls to the floor_ _where + he continues to laugh. Kilo steals to the fire + and_ _is about to snap a coal toward Zory when + Suk rushes in_ _right._) + + SUK--Granny! O Granny! + + ZIP AND KILO--What? + + SUK--Where's Granny? + + KILO-- On the peaks. + + SUK--(_Rushing left._) Loki! + + KILO--Stop him! + + SUK--(_Dodging past Zip._) Loki! + + KILO--Stop him, Zory! (_As he darts by, Zory, still upon_ + _the floor, catches the gnome about the legs._) What is it? + + ZIP--Over the cliff? + + SUK--(_Panting._) Over and over. His black gown-- + The wind puffs it--like a big bat + Swoops after him. + + ZORY--Whew! + + VOICE--(_Right._) Cock-a-doodle-doo! + + SUK--(_Breaking away._) Loki! + + (_He rushes out left, followed by the three other + gnomes. From the right Gimel enters._) + + GIMEL--Cock-a-doodle-doo! + The sun's up, Granny! Hear the cock! + His morning trumpet wakes the village up. + Cock-a-doodle-doo! + See the good people in their Sunday clothes. + A long procession up the mountain goes + With boughs of cypress and boughs of yew. + And now the big bell in the abbey tower + T-o-l-l-s and it t-o-l-l-s and it t-o-l-l-s. + Cock-a-doodle-doo! + What makes the big bell + Sob in its tower? Can any one tell? + Why, the monk that pulls at the rope, I ween. + Cock-a-doodle-doo! + + (_He follows the others through the narrow passage, + left. A moment later, from the opposite side, + a fairy appears and beckons to the dwarf. The + latter, after a quick glance to the left, + stealthily takes up the sword from the floor + and follows the fairy from the cave._) + + + _SCENE THREE--The monastery of St. Giles, in the mountains._ + _An open court, with buildings dimly seen in the darkness. + To the right, the dormitory, a large structure built of + stone, with high, deep-set windows protected by heavy + shutters which are closed. Across the court a high wall, + starting in front, extends back some fifteen feet and abuts + the side of the chapel before which in outline long stone + steps may be discerned. In the center of the wall is an + archway with a pair of ponderous iron gates. The night is + dark and windy._ + + _Along the side of the dormitory comes old Andrew with a + staff and lighted taper. He is singing in a low voice._ + + ANDREW--_The barque o' the moon, like the Ithican's ship,_ + _Heigho, she's swamped on the sea,_ + _With her big bags of wind_-- + + (_Turning the corner and meeting the wind._) Hey! + + Up, lads! Swell your bellies, sails! Now we're for't! + + (_His candle threatening to go out, he draws back. + For a while he stands as if perplexed. Then, + rounding the corner, he again turns his + shoulder to the wind and, shielding his taper + thus, moves sidewise across the court toward + the chapel._) + + Puff, devils, puff, puff! Howl and snap! howl and snap! + You'll scare old Andrew, will you? By the saints, + I'll have this taper in the chapel sconce + In spite of all your snarling. + + (_He throws down his staff and shields his taper + with his gown._) Blow! blow! blow! + + Here's a monk's soul borne to the Virgin's arms + Across a strip of Hell. D'you want to leap + Out of this greasy world? Out with you, then! + Here's a fine night to jump in, wind and moon, + Roar and the scud of swollen water-bags. + Jump, jump, soul! Swounds, here's a coward for you; + Here's a tallow-swad that loves swine's belly + Better'n the big deep. Shrift, eh? shrift and housel? + _Primum confessum_, foul monk. Gluttony. (_The taper flickers._) + Yip! See the devils pluck at him! Quick, priest; + St. Giles will lose a lamb. If I damn one, + I damn them all; damn the Abbot; damn Andrew. + Flesh is flesh. _Absolvo te. Secundum._ + Bibbing, eh? Vap or burgundy? Vap? + That's a vile sin; but vap is hell enough. + _Quid tertio?_ (_He puts his ear to the taper._) + St! lower; the Devil's listening. (_Starting._) + Whee! Bless the saints! God must have gold for that. + No gold? No gold, no shrift. And here's old Claw-foot + Coming through the dark, that needs a furnace tender, + A skimmer for his bullion pots. Gramercy, monk. + No wench-craft there nor bibbing, soft bells and venison. + Limbs hot, hot lungs, hot belly, everything-- + (_The taper goes out._) Puff! + Down over the big, windy world. Good jump; + Clean to the pit. (_Thunder._) + Ay, night, smack your black chaps. + Rumble! rumble! + + (_He feels about the ground for his staff, and, + having found it, walks back and stands under + one of the windows of the dormitory._) Soloman! + Soloman! + + The Devil wants you. D'you hear? His pipe's gone out. + Give him a coal. + + (_He waits a while, then beats upon the shutter + with his staff. A low voice is heard within._) + + What's that? Eh? + + VOICE-- Who is it? + Lucifer? + + ANDREW--Ay, with his light out. + (_After a pause._) Come, come! + I'll have to cut a reed and suck the stars + Like the big fool you told of. + + (_The shutter opens and the head of Soloman + appears._) + + Light, light, man! (_Soloman whispers._) + Pipe out, cricket. Here's the big noisy winds + Roarin' in my ears. (_Soloman whispers and points to the corner._) + Prowling? A night like this! + Turned wolf, eh? There's a fine porker gone. + Louis and he were at their wassail cups, + Nuzzling a stoup o' hipo' a while ago. (_He comes toward the corner._) + God bless you, senechal, another stoup. + Swine-herd, all-hail! Fill up the Abbot's trough. + An he breaks sty, look out! God bless us then! + Water and bread, water and bread. Zooks, zooks! + The devil's up with Andrew if he finds + The oratory dark. (_He listens._) Otho! Spot! Hya! Hya! + There's something snooping here. + + (_He crosses himself._) I'll get a light + + And bustle from this place. It's the Devil + Walking on wool. (_He turns back toward the window._) + Water and bread. Sfoot, sfoot! + The sheep will find thin food on Andrew's grave. + Light, man, light! It's the bats hurtling. + (_Soloman disappears._) There's a chinch + That burrows in the vellum like a mole, + A parchment moth what can spin yarn or yarn + Like the old dame i' the tale. He reads and reads. + He's got a wit strung like a rosary thread + With tales and names and things and things and things. + Tell me a tale, says I, something valorous, + Something to lighten life for an old man. + Tales for tapers, says he. A go, says I. + And so I pilfers from the chapel sconce + The snuffed stubbs. To lighten life, says I. + + (_Soloman reappears with a lighted candle._) + + The lad that rode the dolphin, did he get + To land? + + SOLOMAN--He stayed upon the sea. + + ANDREW-- And drowned? + + SOLOMAN--Turned buccaneer and sacked the christian ships + And sold the spoil in Jewry. (_Andrew walks away._) + Don't you wish + To hear it? The tale goes on to tell + How Hugh de Bouillon, cruising in the East, + Found him upon a cliff and took him down + From off a gibbet where the sea-gulls flew, + And with his harp upon the deck at night + He made the sea-lads merry with his songs. + Let's have them now, here at the gates of heaven, + Far off from dead men crying in the sea. + + ANDREW--What makes the lightning go that way, zigzag? + + SOLOMAN--The Devil broke it on a gibbet-- + + ANDREW-- Tush! + + SOLOMAN--And hung it upon a sea-cliff. + + ANDREW--Tush, tush, lad! + Don't make game o' the old man. If he's bent, + It's with prayer. (_He comes back to the window._) + + SOLOMAN-- Sing me a sea-song. + + ANDREW-- It's too raw + A night, lad. + + (_He holds his taper up toward Soloman's, when + suddenly some one carrying a light appears at + the farther corner of the dormitory. Soloman + jerks back his candle._) + + Eh? It's Bill-o'-the-wisp! + God save us, man! Moving! It's a torch. + + (_The light passes behind the chapel. Andrew walks + back in the court._) + + How the wind blows! There's blood in it. Caw, rooks, + Chatter and caw. Villainy is abroad. + There's blood on the stones somewhere, fresh blood. + + (_He stands looking in the direction whence the + light disappeared._) + + It's the new deer-man fastening up the dogs. + He hunts in the night when the brockets o' the wood + Come to the stream to drink. And none to tell them + O' the foul spear. No abbot-stag to say-- + Standing to his belly in the stream-- + "Drink will be the death of you." It's a foul world. + + (_Returning toward the window._) + + The hunter's at the kennel wi' his pups. + What's his name? He's been here now a sennight. + + SOLOMAN--Macias. + + ANDREW-- Macias; that's a good name. + + SOLOMAN-- (_Giving Andrew a light._) + It's a lean name. + + ANDREW-- Lean name? Fat, man, fat. + An it was lean we'd have to cast our skins, + As the snakes do, and sleep at breakfast time. + I tell you, Soloman, there a hunter for you. + He's for a beast, he fronts it i' the dark, + Blazing its pretty orbs wi' his big torch. + His eye's a rook's eye and his spear as true + As the bolt o' the buskined hussy what you say + Drops from the moon i' the dead o' night and hunts + Naked i' the woods. She's a--I'm a monk, though. + An you could see him coming through the copse, + Shuffling the dews away, zooks, you would say + The burnt faced fellows of Libya were for sure + Making a revel feast for the big god. + The game! the game! Sweet, tender prickets, + Stags and chamois calves, pheasants and geese, + Turtles and loaches and toper horse-fish + Wi' fins as red as blood. God bless us, though. + An the Abbot finds the oratory dark, + There'll be thin food for sheep on Andrew's grave. + Water and bread. + + (_He starts toward the chapel, humming to himself._) + + SOLOMAN-- What's the song, Andrew? + + ANDREW-- Sh! + The Abbot hears me trill that heathen song, + I'll get no chick-weed. It's a foul song. + + (_He comes forward and looks round the corner of + the dormitory, then returns to the window._) + + A cricket chirped it from a chink i' the wall + As the old man dozed dreaming o' green fields, + Up there. (_He sings._) + _The grass is food for the ewe_ + _And the ewe is food for man_ + _And man is food for the green, green grass_ + _And the grass for the ewe again._ + The foul song makes goat's food of us all. + Old Andrew's shoots, gowan, and aigilops + For filthy goats to browse on. (_He starts away._) + Sfoot, I'll fast + 'Fore I'll be carried around in a goat's udder. + + (_Suddenly around the farther corner of the chapel + the light reappears. Soloman snatches-to the + shutter. Old Andrew blows out his taper and + gets down upon his knees by the wall. Macias, + the hunter, carrying a pine torch, comes + forward across the court._) + + ANDREW-- (_Telling his beads._) + _Adeste, sancti_; villainy is abroad. + + MACIAS-- (_Holding down his torch._) + Ay, monk, you're right. Are all the brothers in? + + ANDREW--_Abi_, fiend! Out with the sooty torch! + Old Andrew's prayers can fly to heaven i' the dark. + + MACIAS--I meant no harm, monk. I was passing by + And heard you say there's villainy abroad. + I thought perhaps you'd heard the blind bitch howl, + As I did, mournful. Did you? Did you hear her? + + ANDREW-- (_Looking up._) + Who breaks old Andrew's mass? Zooks, it's the Devil + Thrusting his grimy face through censer smoke. + + (_Turning to the wall._) + + _Adeste, sancti_; villainy is abroad. + + MACIAS-- (_Reflecting._) + It may have been in my dream. (_He walks out in the court._) + A few white stars + Still burned above the village. (_Looking up._) Not a star + In all the heavens. (_He returns right. Andrew has risen._) + Are all the brothers in? + + ANDREW--Up there behind the clouds? + + MACIAS-- Did you hear the howl? + + ANDREW--Ay, heard it in the pines. + + MACIAS-- The bitch, I mean. + + ANDREW--Carnus is dog. Bitch is a carnal thought. + I've been at prayer. + + MACIAS-- Within? + + ANDREW-- The prayer was in; + Andrew was out. + + MACIAS-- Here in the gale? How long? + + ANDREW--Till a soul jumps from the big windy world. + + MACIAS--Jumps from the world? Whose soul? + + ANDREW-- The monk's. + + MACIAS--(_Aside._) The monk's! + There, there it is, the howl of the hound! + Death has been here. + + ANDREW-- Shook and refused to jump + Till he was driven off. + + MACIAS-- What! Driven off? + + ANDREW--Ay, by the winds. + + MACIAS-- He died not in his cell? + + ANDREW--He died here by the wall. + + (_He walks back in the darkness._) + + MACIAS-- Monk, beat the brush; + I fear some crime is crouching in the dark. + + ANDREW--Ay, that there is; there's villainy abroad. + + (_He stands listening._) + + MACIAS--Why are you silent? Tell me how he died. + + (_Andrew returns gloomily and lights his taper at + the hunter's torch._) + + ANDREW--His soul was calm until it sniffed the gale + And saw the wild-fire grazing in the sky. + And then you should have seen him. When he heard + The roar of the wind and saw the lean moon + Rush through the clouds, tearing them with her horn, + Zooks, then he fluttered like a gull on a mast + When a big barque is poppling up and down + I' the foam. And all the while devils' grimy hands + Plucked at him through the dark. + + (_The hunter turns away mumbling to himself._) Eh? + Mad? You're right. + + An you'd a seen 'em you'd a said they're mad. + + MACIAS--Where will I find the Abbot? + + ANDREW-- Legions of them. + They'd seen me sponge him twice with a good shrift. + As soon as ever the third foul sin appeared, + They pounced him and pitched him down over the world + To where the big deep dashes up the sky + Spraying the stars of heaven. Down, down, down! + + (_He walks back in the court and stands listening._) + + Hear it? Blood on the stones, fresh blood. (_Calling._) Mother! + + MACIAS--Chattering to himself. It must be he, + The ancient acholyte they told me of. + Gray hairs and staff-- + + ANDREW-- Mother! + + MACIAS-- His ears are keen + From listening to the crickets in the stones, + Year after year. Jesu, that's a long time. + The eagles that were young upon the crags + When he came here are gray. God, fifty years! + For fifty years to watch the lizards spawn, + To feed them, name them, miss them then and see + In the green crevices of the old wall + Another brood come forth. Each rook that haunts + These musty gables here, he knows them all; + Knows every tomb-bat in the coffin'd crypt; + Can tell the spiders, where they cast their webs + In the dark corners, where and how and why; + The rere-mice, when they breed; the vermin--God! + Fifty long years, fifty! And all that time + To count the days like beads and feel them black! + I'd rather be a fox. I'd rather be-- + Never to have chased the chamois up the cliffs! + Never to have felt the thrill of stag at bay, + Or heard the pheasant in the wild brown brake + Whir! (_Walking right._) I'd rather be a chipmunk free to-- + + ANDREW--You got the dogs shut in? + + MACIAS-- (_At the corner of the dormitory._) + They're shut in. Why? + + ANDREW--Hear it. + + MACIAS-- I hear nothing. + + ANDREW-- Far down in the dark. + There, groaning in the wind. + It tries to rise. + Some stag or something's fallen from the rocks. + Are the dogs in? Is Twinkle in, and Spot? + + (_Macias walks back._) + + There's something moving round it. + + MACIAS-- Stag, you say? + + ANDREW--It's not a stag. Its foot sounds like a paw. + Hear it? It's dragging off the carcass. Hear? + + MACIAS--Old man, your ears are at the gates of death. + What is it that you hear in this wild night? + Awake you strike the trail I struck in sleep. + I have just had a dream in which I saw + A stag out on the mountain there dragged down. + + ANDREW-- (_Abstractedly._) + Its foot sounds like a paw. + + MACIAS-- 'Twas in the dream. + I am just from a dream in which I saw + A snow-white talbot pull a stag down. + + ANDREW-- Dream? + + MACIAS--And when the talbot had pulled down the buck + A pair of hands, small as a fairy's are, + Reached through the leaves and-- + + ANDREW-- Mother Mary! Hold! + I will wake Daniel. + + MACIAS-- Are all the brothers in? + + (_Andrew beats upon the shutter._) + + Do what? + + ANDREW--You're right. He'll read it as easy + As the old fellow what ate pulse and got + Lean as the kine he saw. He knows them all. + Says he: "Dreams sleep under the dog-wood blooms + And love to hear the patter o' the rain." + Why, he knows the color o' their beards, man. + Says he, one day, telling me of a dream-- + Onar was its name, gray-beard like a king-- + Steals into a tent: "Now you can get the girl; + Wake up and fight; now you can get her." + (_A low voice within._) Eh? + A dream, God bless us, fire-wing. (_The shutter opens._) + He. + + SOLOMAN-- Tell it. + + (_Farther back, a second shutter opens._) + + MACIAS--First tell me this: Did either of you monks + Hear Fever howl? + + SOLOMAN-- I heard no howl. + + MACIAS--(_Flashing back his torch._) Did you? + + LEO-- (_In a thin voice._) + What? + + MACIAS--Hear Fever howl. + + LEO-- What's Fever? + + MACIAS-- The bitch. + + LEO-- Shame! + + MACIAS-- (_To Soloman._) + A while ago I started up from sleep + And hurried to the kennel, thinking sure + I'd find old Fever sick again; but no; + The bitch was sleeping. And yet I heard a howl. + It may have been the white hound in my dream. + I seemed to be out on the mountain there. + 'Twas early morning; a few stars still shone + Above the village. Soon, far down the road, + I heard a baying as of hounds. Thinks I: + "A deer has passed and waked the village dogs. + Now for a chase." There must have been a slot + Of fresh blood on the road that fired the pack, + For on they came like mad. Around the cliff + Long bodies swung like shadows through the mist, + And tore on up the mountain. Farther up + A stag plunged from a hazel copse, and then + A snow-white talbot, following close behind, + Shot smoking from the brake. "Abloy!" I cried, + And leaped upon a rock. The after-pack, + Nosing the vent along the mountain road, + Heard the loud challenge of the leading hound + And, breaking trail, came crashing through the brush + And spied the quarry, and with their heads in air + Sprang after up the scree, their steaming mouths + Ringing the mountains round. The pretty deer, + With nostrils flaming and with dappled flanks + Torn by the furze, came skirting round a rock + And turned to dash under some low-hung boughs + When over a near knoll the hot, sinewy hound, + Like to a cat-o'-mountain from a limb, + Shot through the air. Crash through the boughs he went. + Sprinkling the earth with leaves. Out jumped my knife, + And, leaping from the rock, I hurried down + To slit the poor brute's throat and save a steak + From the mad, hungry pack. The pretty buck + Staggered beneath the hound, while the beads of blood + Dripped from the quivering hocks. The head fell back, + The tender haunches sank on the soft turf, + And death was closing up the eyes, when lo, + Sancta Maria, what a miracle! + + (_He pauses a moment, then proceeds with more and + more animation._) + + A gale had risen and the clouds that hung + Gray in the heavens when the chase began, + Foamed, and, flying black before the winds, + Grappled the woods and threw his thick, green hair + Into the swirling rack of livid sky. + Lightnings and thunders, winds and tumbling rocks + Charged on the pack of dogs as though they were + Devils come up from Hell, and hurled them down + Into the pit again. Under the beech + Where the white talbot had pulled down the buck + Behold the miracle the Virgin wrought! + Out of a dallop of green boughs that hung + Close to the haunches of the hart appeared + A pair of small pink hands that with one wrench + Tore the hound's jaws apart. The deer rose up + As from a sleep, shook his brown coat and browsed + The succulent green twigs, then wandered off + Up the dark mountain side, whilst like a star + Between the dim, dissolving antlers shone + A crucifix of silver, dripping blood. + + (_Several shutters in the second story have opened + and faces are seen white in the glare of the + torch. Old Andrew, frightened, has drawn back + in the shadow against the wall._) + + Lo, then a sight such as I hope our Lord + Will visit to these dying eyes of mine + In their last hour. The louring mountain brows + Brightened beneath a drift of golden feet, + And wings waved in the air, and faces bloomed + In the edding sky, and the dark towering ridge, + Lifting its weight of crags above the storm, + Sloughed off its shadow, and the field of pines, + Like a green army climbing to the clouds + Out of the darkness of the dale below, + Shook their victorious plumes, and every rock, + Tree, bush, and vine, and weed, and flower sent up + Voices of joy till all the mountains rang. + + LEO--"I say unto you that joy shall be in heaven over one + sinner that returneth." + + VOICE-- (_From the second story._) + Who is the sinner? + + MACIAS--(_Calling up._) Are all the brothers in? + + VOICE--(_Calling._) Oswald! + + ANOTHER-- Ask Pierre. + + ANOTHER-- (_Far within._) He has not returned. (A pause.) + + ANOTHER--He may have stayed with Father Benedict. + He finishes to-morrow. + + SOLOMAN-- Tell this dream + To the Abbot. (_The hunter disappears round the corner._) + + A VOICE-- Let us hear what Father says. + + ANOTHER--Oswald is girt about with prophesy. + + ANOTHER--Fiends cannot harm him. + + ANOTHER-- Jesus is with him. + + (_The shutters are closed hurriedly._) + + ANDREW-- (_Alone._) + The Devil is a big, long-legged crane, + Wading the marsh of life, and we are frogs, + Tadpoles and water-bugs. I'll fast and pray. + + (_He shields his flickering taper with his gown and + makes his way across the court toward the + chapel._) + + + _SCENE FOUR--A desolate mountain road along the top of a + cliff that plunges down from the edge of a pine-wood._ + _Overhead the wind is heard moaning in the trees, and upon + the ground patches of moonlight wave to and fro. From the + left, past some bushes which almost hide the road from + view, the dwarf, Sigurd, appears carrying the monk, Oswald, + limp in his arms. The latter's face is so emaciated that + one would never recognize him as the same person as was + seen in the forest some three years ago. His feet, upon + which are heavy wooden shoes, drag along the road. Suddenly + from somewhere in his clothing the large silver crucifix + falls to the ground. The dwarf stoops, and, resting the + monk upon his knee, reaches down and secures the crucifix, + which he puts between his teeth. Then, having gotten a new + hold, he rises and, with difficulty, makes his way up the + road._ + + + + +ACT THREE. + + + _SCENE ONE--A grassy ledge far up on the mountain side. Tall + pine trunks rise here and there. Down the slope, to the + left, are russet tops of small oaks newly leaved. To the + right, a rocky acclivity of about thirty degrees elevation + with scattered bushes and a sheep path winding back and up. + In the distance, a blue range of mountains with their bases + buried in the white mists of early morning._ + + _Some distance back from where the path comes down upon + the ledge, Conrad is broiling woodcocks on coals. Brown + feathers are sprinkled about upon the turf. Upon a rock + near by lies a well-filled hunting bag. Fritz, with his + face to the fire, is reclining upon the grass with a_ + _shepherd's staff in his hands. From down the slope, comes_ + _a tinkle of bells as of sheep browsing on the mountain side._ + + _TIME--Two days later._ + + FRITZ--I was with Canzler when the boy climbed up + Among the rocks and handed it to him. + + CONRAD--What does it look like? + + FRITZ-- It's as long as that, + + (_Indicating on his staff._) + + And blue as the waters of the tarn down there. + Upon the haft are wrought two eagles' heads + And, twisted round the blade in coil on coil, + A serpent in the talons of the birds + Forms the cross piece upon the lower haft. + On the blade between the coils what may be runes + Are cut in characters of some unknown tongue; + At least, no man has ever made them out. + + CONRAD--Where could the boy have gotten it? + + FRITZ-- No one knows. + Turn the bird over. + + CONRAD-- It is not brown yet. + + FRITZ--There is something magical about it all. + In the light, the blade bends like a willow wand, + But when the sky is overcast with clouds + Or in the shade of rock or tree no man + With all his might can bend it, and it slips + Through tree and rock as through a pawpaw leaf. + + CONRAD--The boy himself, what did he say? + + FRITZ-- He vanished. + + CONRAD-- Eh? + + FRITZ--When Canzler turned to ask him, he was gone. + + CONRAD--And have you seen him since? + + FRITZ-- Where is your bread? + + CONRAD--I have some here. (_He reaches up into the bag._) + Has no one seen him since? + + FRITZ--He was out on the mountains every day + Before, either by the abbey over there + Or climbing in the vines above the tarn, + But always in the shade of rock or tree. + When he crossed spaces where the sunlight fell + 'Twas always in the shadow of a cloud. + No one has seen him since he disappeared. + + CONRAD-- (_Laying the bread upon the grass._) + You know the song that Wiglaf used to sing, + Of how Val-father wanders over the earth + In human form-- + + FRITZ-- That is what Rudolph says; + Val-father turns his dark side to the earth. + + CONRAD--And leaves swords sticking in the rock and trees. + + FRITZ--Rudolph insists that Oswald will return. + He says that Selma learned it from the trees. + She listens in the forest all day long + And when the wind is loud and the boughs sway-- + + CONRAD--How could he ever find us here? + + FRITZ-- I see + How that could be; Woden knows where we are, + And where he turns his face the way is clear. + + CONRAD--Oswald has turned his back on Woden's face. + + FRITZ--Blind Hoder wandered once as far as Hell, + And he came back, for Woden in his mind + Directed him and--Here comes Canzler now. + + CONRAD--Is that the sword. + + FRITZ-- Yes. + + CONRAD-- What was that he said? + + FRITZ--He must be going down to see the priest. + + (_With the sword at his side and wearing a cap + made of a wild-cat's skin, its head upon his + head and the rest of the skin hanging down + his back, Canzler comes down the sheep path, + followed by Rudolph._) + + CANZLER--More than two years have passed and not a word + Was ever said to throw the claim in doubt; + But now that Hartzel is about to die + They think to get the whole tract for the Church, + Upon the ground that he who sold the land + To Hartzel was apostate to their Faith. + + RUDOLPH--They don't deny that the man owned the land? + + CANZLER--He owned the land till he disowned the Faith + And by that act he dispossessed himself, + And then, they say, the land reverted to God. + + RUDOLPH--And Hartzel's money, to whom does it revert? + + CANZLER--That is a matter between infidels, + And proves, when they rob one another so, + There is no honesty outside the Faith. + + RUDOLPH--The man that sold the land robbed Hartzel, eh? + + CANZLER--If knavery is all outside the Faith. + + CONRAD--Will you men have some breakfast? + + RUDOLPH-- And did they + Tell Hartzel on what ground they had seized his land? + + CANZLER--"All land is God's, and pagans have no right + To own it," was the answer that he got. + That was a month ago, though. When they found + That the wind passed and still the fruit hung on, + Thinking perhaps 'twould fall of its own weight. + They waited until yesterday and then + Unexpectedly they bumped the tree. + Hartzel should hold possession during life-- + He is about to die--and at his death + The Church should take the burden of the estate + From his dead shoulders, and carry it without charge + And with it save his soul from Hell. + + RUDOLPH-- And save + His children--? + + CANZLER-- From the path that leads to Hell. + + RUDOLPH--Is that their proposition? + + CANZLER-- That is it. + The old man in despair appealed to me. + + RUDOLPH--What are you going to tell them, Canzler? + + CANZLER--What am I going to tell them? Tell them what + Val-father tells the mountains, tells the rocks, + The trees, the beasts, the birds, all things that live. + Woden, who made all things, made each to be + Different from the rest. He made the oak + To bear its acorns and the pine its cones. + The mole to burrow and the fox to run, + The eagle to hatch her brood upon the crag + Under the sun, the bat, in the dark cave. + The ox to eat grass, and the lion flesh, + And each to go its own particular way + Upon a path as separate and clear + As are the curves and risings of the stars. + + (_Fritz and Conrad come forward._) + + He made no bell to ring all things that live + To sameness in their lives or in their thought. + To keep them, as he made them, different, + He gave to each an individual taste + And matched the taste within with that without + Which, when the two meet, the result is joy. + Joy is the voice of each thing as it moves + Toward Woden on the path that he laid out. + The eagle finds its way without a guide + To Woden, and the stars without a guide, + Each in its own light, and all things that live, + From the blind worm to the all-seeing sun, + Follow their joy and come at last to him. + The eagle's right to go the eagle's way + Is not conditioned by another thing + Save by the fact alone that it is so: + That Woden gave to it an eagle's wings. + And so with man. To what man has a right, + He has a right because he is a man + And not because he is a kind of man. + Val-father's bells have each a different tone. + You cannot make the million aisles that lead + To him one aisle and drive all things through that, + Or make the right of each to be and to have + Rest on its answering a particular bell. + If we admit their principle that Faith, + Or anything outside the fact that one + Is a man, is the basis of the rights of man, + We shame our Saxon fathers who fought and died + For a lie, if this be true. For when the South + Pushed through the Frankish forest with her sword + Between her teeth, and stained with blood, and held + Her hands out, saying, "Here, take this or this," + Our fathers chose the darkness of the grave + From the red hand, and left the black hand filled + With that which now to keep itself alive + Eats Hartzel's land and licks its fangs toward us. + When the great night came on and they laid down + Under their battered shields and broken swords, + The trees have told us what their last word was: + "The northern air will kill the southern lie; + Then we will come again. Remember this." + + FRITZ--And here we are. + + CANZLER-- It may not be dawn yet, + But some are up before the light. + + FRITZ-- And all + The dead will rise when Balder comes. + + RUDOLPH-- But now + Val-father has his dark side to the earth, + And works in his own shadow. + + FRITZ-- But the dawn + Will reach down and lift Balder out of Hell. + + CONRAD-- (_Drawing the sword from Canzler's belt._) + If we concede to every man the right, + As you say, Canzler, to his own belief, + We must concede to the villagers the right + To their belief that they own Hartzel's land. + + CANZLER--We do concede it. + + RUDOLPH-- Their right to their belief. + But not their right to Hartzel's land. + + CANZLER-- With them + Men are God's vassals, and the land they hold, + They hold in fief to him, on terms of faith. + + RUDOLPH--And while they keep the Faith, they keep the land. + + FRITZ--And when they lose the Faith, they lose the land. + + CONRAD-- (_Walking aside._) + And when they have no Faith, they have no land. + + (_He tries to pierce with the sword a pine tree in + the sunlight._) + + CANZLER--Try that one in the shade there. + + (_The sword passes deeply into the second trunk._) + + FRITZ-- Is it through? + + CONRAD-- (_Looking behind the trunk._) + More than a hand's breadth. + + + FRITZ-- If the village dogs + Snap at you as they are wont to-- + + CANZLER-- I shall have + No trouble with them. + + FRITZ-- And yet you expect + To tell them what you said just-- + + CANZLER-- I expect + Hartzel to have his rights. Fetch it here, Conrad. + + RUDOLPH--The Bailiff, Canzler, is a rabid man. + + CANZLER--I have no business with the Bailiff. + + RUDOLPH-- Still, + To reach the church, you must pass through the street. + + CANZLER--Is it too narrow for two men to pass? + + (_He receives the sword and goes left._) + + RUDOLPH--For two such men as you two are, it is. + + FRITZ--With swords on thighs. + + CONRAD-- (_Walking back toward the fire._) + The hilts might knock. + + FRITZ--(_Following him._) Or blades. + + VOICE OF SELMA-- (_Above._) + I'm going with you, Father! + + CANZLER-- No, Selma; + You-- + + SELMA-- (_Who comes running down the path._) + Just to the dingle; the faries say + The heather-bells are out. + + RUDOLPH-- Let her go, Canzler. + + CANZLER--Throw the white blooms away. + + SELMA-- (_Throwing away a sprig of dog-wood._) + Now may I go? + + CANZLER--They make you sad. (_He starts down the slope_.) + + SELMA-- I'll not cry any more. + I'll be gay, Father, if you let me go. + + (_She turns and looks questioningly at Rudolph, + who nods to her. Then, skipping forward, she + takes hold of the hilt of her father's sword + and steadies herself with it as they go down + the slope._) + + CONRAD--Come back and have a woodcock. + + (_Rudolph walks back._) + + FRITZ-- There he goes. (_Shouting._) + O Canzler! + + CONRAD-- He don't hear you. + + RUDOLPH-- Who? + + CONRAD-- The Priest. + + RUDOLPH--Which way is he? + + FRITZ-- Riding down toward town. + + (_Rudolph joins the others, and the three stand + looking off left._) + + CONRAD-- (_Directing Rudolph._) + Up that way from the Abbey. + + FRITZ-- I bet he's been + Back to see Hartzel. (_Shouting._) Canzler! + + CONRAD-- He can't hear. + + + _SCENE TWO--The courtyard of the abbey, as in Scene three + of the second act. The large crucifix which was seen in + the forest in the first Act is fixed above the door of_ + _the chapel. On either side of the door is a stained glass_ + _window, the farther one depicting the Transfiguration, the + nearer one, the legend of St. Giles. The deer with blood + dripping from a wound in its haunch stands behind the + saint who holds in his hand an arrow with blood upon its + tip. The emporer and his huntsmen are presenting the saint + with golden cups. The deer is watching them. Several rude + benches of stone are ranged alongside of the dormitory. + In the rear, about ten feet back from the building, a low + stone wall extends across, passing behind the dormitory on + the one side and the chapel on the other. To the left, far + back, is seen the side of the mountain on which the abbey + stands. The upper part is thickly wooded, and below, where + the timber is sparse, a road winds down the cliff to the + village. Farther down, the slope becomes more precipitous + and is covered with bowlders and stunted evergreens, some + of which have been broken off by rocks tumbling from the + cliff above. Off to the right, a space of sky with the + snow-peaks flashing in the sunlight. To the left in the + last Scene, they are now far to the right._ + + _From a door in the dormitory facing the court, Ely and_ + _Pierre enter. The former has a hunting horn suspended from + his shoulder by a chain, and in his hand a small wooden + crucifix. Pierre carries two large silver candelabra. They + come out talking._ + + ELY--For he was old and he had come four miles. + + PIERRE--A cripple too! When was this? + + ELY-- Yesterday. + And when I showed him this and said: "Good man, + Here is a rood he carved with his own hands," + Light filled his eyes. + + PIERRE-- And had he come so far? + + (_Ely walks forward and looks around the corner of + the dormitory._) + + ELY-- (Turning back.) + I must be at the gate when father comes-- + Four miles on crutches. Suddenly he looked up. + He must have seen a wing flash in the sky, + For his face brightened with the light of faith, + And like a seed he seemed to scent a shower. + + PIERRE--What did you do? + + ELY-- I asked him to kneel down. + Oh, what a power there is in holy things! + No sooner had I touched him with the rood + Than like a plant he rose up from the stones + And blossomed; cried: "Lord Jesus, I am cured!" + And down the mountain ran shouting for joy. + + PIERRE--The Holy Virgin bless us! + + ELY-- Yes, he did; + Ran down. I watched him till he disappeared, + Then turned to stone. I could not stir, but stood + Frightened as though an angel hovered near + In the blue sky. + + PIERRE-- Oh, I have felt it too! + These two days have to me been like a dream + And I am dizzy as on some high place. + At night I feel the stars are not far off, + And when I wake, it seems to me the dawn + Is breaking far below us on the world. + So near we are to that which lights the sun, + + (_He holds up the candelabra._) + + These candles, if I should dare to speak the word, + Would burst out into flame. + + ELY-- Pierre! + + PIERRE--(_Still looking up._) Oh, surely, + Surely the hands that lifted Oswald up, + Lifted our abbey too, and we are close + To heaven. Perhaps about us in the air + Are voices and the wings of those that hear + Our very whispers,--martyrs, saints, Saint Giles. + + ELY--You make it terrible to live in flesh. + + PIERRE--Oh, terrible! It is terrible to live + Where every word drops in an angel's ear. + I feel that every breath should be a prayer. + + ELY--I feel so too, Pierre. These acts of grace-- + + PIERRE--Are but the sparks of power. + + (_He starts toward the chapel._) + + ELY-- Mere sparks, you think? + These healings and this rescue from the gulch, + Mere sparks? + + PIERRE-- Simply the scattered beams. + + ELY-- And yet, + The same great light hath kindled one and all. + Is it not so? + + PIERRE-- All these will vanish when-- + + ELY--Tell me. Go on. + + PIERRE-- When the full orb shall burst. + + ELY--What do you mean? + + PIERRE--(_Mounting the steps._) I dare not speak it. + + ELY-- Brother! + + PIERRE--Ely, we stand in darkness by the Tomb, + And little beams flash on us from the chinks, + But the full glory, flooding all the vault, + Awaits the angel. + + ELY-- Is it the dream you mean? + + PIERRE--No one must ever tell him, Father says. + + ELY--You think then that the dream will be fulfilled? + That it is Oswald whom the hounds of Hell + Will chase up some vast mountain of the soul? + + PIERRE--Soon the stone will stir. (_He enters the chapel._) + + ELY-- Pierre! + + (_While Ely stands hoping that Pierre will + reappear, loud laughter breaks from the open + door of the dormitory, and Simon and Basil + come sprawling out. The former is pulling at + a piece of flesh. Ely's face shows anger, and + he starts left._) + + BASIL-- His crutches! + + (_He laughs aloud._) + + SIMON--Here he is now. Ely! + + BASIL--(_Calling through the door._) Hear that, Rene? + The beggar left his crutches for his gift. + + (_Laughter within._) + + SIMON--You ask him. Ely! + + (_Ely unlocks the iron gates and passes out._) + + BASIL-- Bring the crutches, man! + Simon's got the gout. + + (_Rene comes out and joins Basil in laughing at + Simon. The latter, eating his meat, walks back + in the court. Basil whispers to Rene._) + + RENE-- When was it, Simon? + + SIMON--Yesterday. I was sleeping on the bench + When the old codger's shouting waked me up. + And there he was. (_He points up to the road._) + I thought the man was mad, + Or had been in the gables robbing nests, + For his white hair fluttering in the wind + Looked like a pair of pigeons on his poll. + He must have thought the Devil-- (_He sits down on a bench._) + + BASIL-- Or else Ely. + + RENE--Yes, chasing him for his pay. + + BASIL--(_Indignantly._) His crutches! + + SIMON-- (_Drolly._) + He left his sole support. + + (_They all laugh. Basil, who has come forward, + peeps round the corner of the dormitory. + Withdrawing quickly, he hurries back toward + the door._) + + BASIL--(_Excitedly, in an underbreath._) Rene! + + (_He points back over his shoulder with his thumb._) + + RENE--(_Huskily._) Simon! + + (_Simon leaps up, jerks away his meat, and, wiping + his mouth with his sleeve, hurries after the + others into the dormitory. From the right, + the Abbot enters followed by a train of + monks. He wears a miter and a flowing cope_ + _of scarlet, richly apparelled. From the end + of a rosary about his neck dangles an ivory + crucifix. The monks are all in black and wear + their hoods. Upon reaching the center of the + court, the Abbot raises his staff and the_ + _procession stops._) + + ABBOT--Saint Martin hath restored the golden dawn + And put the clouds to flight. The kingly sun + Looks on the world like our new-risen Lord + Driving the night before Him. And the fiends, + That fly with darkness from the pit of death + To conjure with the baleful midnight stars + And wreck God's holy chime of human souls, + Are scourged to Hell, and all the rebel orbs + Are thunder-stunned. Vapors and noxious fogs + That hatch contagion in rank, drizzling swamps, + Will soon beneath the lightning's flagellum + With breezes fan their fevers from the blood, + And with pure sea-dews from green ocean urns + Sprinkle the parched earth to cool the vines + Preparing clusters of our dear Lord's blood. + The serpent spawn of imps and evil dreams, + Fairies and watching wanderers of the night, + That kennel in the bowels of the earth + And taint its waters, blight the tender sprouts, + And sow infections through the flocks and herds, + Have flown like bats into the squalid caves, + And there are numb with fear. O'er Zion's towers + The virgin dawn brings forth the sun of God + And smiles upon the world. The blessed light + Spreads o'er the earth its bright, archangel wings, + Dripping with balmy dews and cassia smells. + The day will-- + + (_High up on the mountain is heard the blast of a + trumpet._) Hark! + + A MONK-- It was Ely's trumpet. + + ANOTHER--Some one comes. + + ABBOT-- The asses from Italy, + Bringing the wine and frankincense, no doubt. + + A MONK--And the golden chalices. + + ANOTHER-- And Father's cope. + + (_Pierre comes from the chapel_.) + + ABBOT--Pierre! + + PIERRE-- What it is, Father? + + ABBOT-- Is the ambry clean? + + PIERRE--It is, Father. + + ABBOT-- Go find Louis, and fetch-- + Fetch the diotas and--let's see--three casks. + + (_He saunters toward the gate. Three monks + follow Pierre, right. The rest disperse about + the court, the greater part eventually finding + their way into the chapel. A few walk back in + the rear and stand looking up at the road. + Three monks, who came in at the end of the + procession and who all the while have stood + perfectly still, slip back their hoods and + discover Simon, Rene, and Basil. At the corner + of the dormitory, Pierre and his companions + meet Louis entering_.) + + ONE OF THE MONKS--The train has come. + + PIERRE-- Father says bring the casks. + + (_Louis reaches under his gown and produces a + large iron key which he hands to Pierre. He + then passes into the court. The four go out_.) + + ABBOT-- (_Calculating._) + Thirty gallons and six--(_Turning._) Four casks, Pierre. + + SIMON--The chopin too, Pierre. You know the men, + The mule-men will be dry. + + BASIL-- Or Simon will. + + RENE--Or Basil. + + BASIL-- Or Rene. + + SIMON-- (_With his hand to his mouth._) Or Father. + + (_They laugh._) + + ABBOT-- Louis! + + (_The shutter near the corner of the dormitory + opens, and Solomon leans out. He has a + parchment in his hand._) + + SOLOMAN--_Quid est_, Leo? + + LEO-- (_Telling his beads, on one of the benches._) + The wine train has arrived. + + SOLOMAN--From Paradise. + + LEO-- Don't be irreverant. + + BASIL---(_To Soloman._) Let no man look on wine when it is red. + + SIMON--I shut my eyes. + + (_Holding their sides for laughter, Rene and + Basil stagger back toward the rear. Soloman + withdraws from the window._) + + LEO-- Father will tend to you. + + (_Simon makes faces at him and follows his + companions._) + + ABBOT-- (_Walking aside with Louis._) + Say nothing to the strangers of the affair. + + LOUIS--Of finding brother Oswald? + + ABBOT-- No, not that. + His fall, his being found before the gate, + All that, no doubt, the villagers last night + Poured into their ears. The folk are deeply stirred. + From tongue to tongue the flame of rumor runs + That heavenly hands bore Oswald from the gulch. + They think the holy saints have blessed his palms + With power of healing and of miracles. + Alms have increased ten-fold. Cattle and sheep, + Jewels and coin, and corn and casks of wine + Pour in from every side. Within a year, + St. Giles will swell her roofs and shine in gold-- (_Confidentially._) + Provided, Louis, provided. You understand? + + LOUIS--You mean the abbey here will robe herself + In purple cloth-of-bodkin stiff with pearl, + Provided-- + + ABBOT-- This new loom shall keep her hum. + + LOUIS--That here red wines will flow to flush her face, + Provided-- + + ABBOT-- Hand in hand upon the hills + This sudden sun that hath sprung up the sky + Shall lead the vine and pour his blood to swell-- + + LOUIS--That morning when it strikes her eastern gate + Will see her heaving heavenward dome on dome, + Provided-- + + ABBOT-- Ay, that's it. You understand. + The quarry for our domes is in our brains. + Here, in our brains, your brain and mine, Louis, + We have the shuttle of that wonderous loom + That shall array her in her cloth-of-gold. + Here is the sun, the bridegroom of the grape. + And here, from hills of France and Italy, + The purple bride shall come and loose her zone + And lay her dower in the abbey's lap. + Lock up that jewel, Louis, in its case. + Let it not get abroad that you suspect-- + Suspect, I say; you surely do not know-- + + LOUIS--I only know of what I heard and saw. + I heard his voice and-- + + ABBOT-- You were fast asleep. + + LOUIS--At first I was; then, wakened by the shout, + Three times I heard him cry out in the dark: + "Haro! help! help!" + + ABBOT-- A voice, of course; but whose? + The night so alters sound you cannot tell. + A cat-o'-mountain screaming in the dark + For all the world sounds like a wailing child. + + LOUIS--But when I see the track, I'll tell you then. + The track up by the gate, and it's there now, + Is the dwarf's track, four toes on the left foot. + + ABBOT--Preposterous, Louis, that this hunched devilock, + Brought up on witch's dugs, in the dead of night + Should be about the service of the Lord. + Asses can talk like men when angels bid. + Perhaps the angels, taking him in the act + Of throwing brother Oswald from the cliff, + Scourged him before them to the abbey gate + And made him in his pain cry out for help + And set his print to attest the power of God. + Who knows? + + LOUIS--Brother Oswald, perhaps. + + ABBOT--Only God. + But make no mention of the witch's son. + When truth is whist and doubt a favoring gale + Blowing toward golden islands in the sea, + Let the ship drive before it into port. + No one was with you when you found him. + + LOUIS--No one. + + ABBOT--And no one saw you. + + LOUIS--No one. It was still dark; + The brothers were asleep. + + ABBOT--Say nothing of it. + Let rumor blow it as a miracle. + Sweet feet of saints have run down in the night + And with a touch enriched a holy house + Of no more worth than this of good St. Giles. + Rumor of saints can do as much as saints. + If thoughts of bright wings stirring in the sky + Can kindle hearts to deeds of charity, + And by those deeds the Virgin's chapels rise, + Let the flame run. We'll blow it through the land. + I've had the brothers circulate report + That wings were seen dissolving in the dawn + Above the mountains. + + LOUIS--(_With a smile._) So, perhaps, there were-- + Of eagles wheeling airily in the clouds. + Is this not, Father, to build upon the sand? + + ABBOT--To build on sand is to build on a lie. + + LOUIS--What is a lie? + + ABBOT--A lie is not a thing + That is not, but a thing that cannot be. + Thus to say good is evil is a lie, + For good cannot be evil. But to say + That that hath been which God hath power to do + Is to make faith a fact. In days like these, + When the Albigensian heresy is rank, + We must support the Holy Writ in this, + That what is done in thought is done in deed. + Has a good deed been done? Then a good thought + Has done that deed, and that good thought is God's, + And such thoughts we call angels. + + LOUIS--Oswald, then, + Was rescued by the angels? + + ABBOT--Without doubt. + The globe of fire that Dominic beheld + Above our Lady's chapel in the plain + Of Prouille was a light in his own mind. + + LOUIS--The multitude will never understand + This nice distinction. + + ABBOT--Just so; but shall we + Show them the foul body of fair Truth + Or the clear spirit? + + LOUIS--The spirit, Father. + I never doubt the end you have in view. + + ABBOT--You doubt the means, though. Deep down in your heart + You smile and say: "But Father is all right. + The times are fire, and fight for Benedict. + To build the abbey, Father must have gold. + To get the gold, the people must be bilked. + But Father will return them light for gold. + I never doubt the end he has in view." + + LOUIS--You are the brain, Father; I, the hand. + You know that I would help you. You know that. + + ABBOT--Anyway, Louis, I am justified. + For simple souls find joy in simple faith. + Go down into the village. Guido tells me + Their faces shine because of this bright thing. + It purifies and cheers them. Cyprian says + There is no power that does not come from God. + He might have said the same of light and joy, + And shall I, to whom what I know this thing is + Seems quite as strange as what they think it is-- + That angels did it--, take their light away + Because I know it falls not from a star? + A thousand lamps burn in the House of Life. + Shall I walk through its chambers and say: "This, + Children, and this, now these were lit of Hell; + But that one there--see how the oil of God + Goes up the wick and throws a brighter flame"? + Unless they see it brighter, it is not. + They cannot see it so without my eye. + They cannot have my eye and keep their own, + And they must keep their own a little while; + At least until I get my abbey built, + Until I shout the sun from out the sea + And with its beams illumine the valley there. + And since its rising on their gifts depends, + And since their gifts depend on their belief, + I cannot tell them their belief is false; + 'Twould bring the abbey down upon their heads; + And Benedict would shout forevermore, + Seeing their night come back without a star. + And so I cannot tell them what is true. + Nothing is sadder than to see a mind + Drifting between an old faith torn away + And a new rock not risen from the waves. + Their wisp must burn until the sun comes up. + Our Lord himself tempered his dazzling truth + To simple minds, and spake in parables, + Leaving the halo on the brow of things. + And shall we blow it away? + + LOUIS-- Is it there? + + ABBOT-- For them, + It is intensely there. And when they come + Bringing their little gifts, what can I say? + They ask me, "Is this light?" I say, "Does it + Shine?" They answer, "Yes." "Then it is light." (_A pause._) + Is it? (_A pause._) Louis? + + LOUIS-- Suppose so; if it shines. + + ABBOT--And if they say it shines? + + LOUIS--(_After a pause._) I suppose so. + + ABBOT--Shall Plato take Saint Giles' faith away? + That, Louis, is the question of all time. + + LOUIS--If he can give him Plato's. + + ABBOT-- _If_ he can. + And if he cannot? + + LOUIS-- If he cannot-- (_He stops._) + + ABBOT-- What? + Ready to give to one who cannot take, + Who cannot see my light beyond her light. + Shall I step in upon my mother's prayer + With noise, and say: "But see, yours is no god." + And pick and pound and blow her hope away + And loose her tears upon my father's corpse? (_A pause._) + Louis? (_A pause._) Shall I? + + LOUIS-- (_Walking about with his head down._) + I have naught to say. + + ABBOT--Do I still seem to be a hypocrite? + + LOUIS-- (_Turning quickly._) + Father! + + ABBOT--What should I say? "Your eye sees false"? + If they think rue will keep the devils off, + To kill their thought would bring the devils back + And leave them fleeing Hell, not seeking God; + A different thing though Benedict knows it not. + They are not ready for the larger life, + And in a day I cannot make them so. + They cannot take my light. Shall I take theirs, + Their little light, and leave them in the dark? + Take from their hearts the glory and the hope? + How do I know what God means by this thing? + If they should ask me I must drop my eyes + And say: "He hides to-morrow from to-day," + Which is no answer, Louis, and I know it. + What can I do? No, I must seem to lie: + While I am serving God, seem to serve Hell; + Pray to the Giver of Light, "Thy will be done," + And then give darkness! Oh, for some power, + Some angel, Louis, that should come from heaven + And free us from these bonds of policy! + That we must hide our light like secret parts + As though each shining ray were snake of Hell! + Oh, that some god would step down on the peaks + And make us throw our thought out on the dark, + As fields their seeds, leaving the god of growth + To separate and slay and bring to sheaf! + How I would lay this cope and this aside, + And with my face upon the mountains run, + Aye, run to meet the bright thing coming down, + And cry, "Hail, hail, hail, hail, thou blessed one!" + + (_Shaking with emotion, his voice husky._) + + I cannot be a man! + + LOUIS-- But, Father, that-- + + ABBOT--Accursed bondage harder than the Nile! + + LOUIS--That prophesy that Oswald brings, may it + Not mean this very thing, that by his fall + And this bright rumor that the angels saved him, + A summer cloud that seems to rain down gold, + May it not be that by this very gold + Your tower of light shall rise upon this rock + And save the North from darkness? May it not? + + ABBOT--But who will save us from our policy, + From playing hide and seek with God's bright son, + From the necessity of withholding truth + From those to whom the vital thing belongs, + Who do not even hunger for it more, + Who live and die about a taper's flame, + Calling it star, and sun, salvation, God-- + And here all round us--Louis, look, the dawn! + + LOUIS--The quality of all light is the same. + + ABBOT--Quality, Louis, is not quantity. + The myriad spheres of dew leave the fields dark. + The midnight luster on the swamp is light, + Enough to guide the wild thing paddling there. + The willow leaves give light unto the moth. + The stars that fill us with the life to come + Leave darkness in the prowling tiger's eye, + And rise and set upon its curve of ball. + God made the day for higher things than these. + Some light is not enough for something more + Than moth and water-rat and prowling maws + That find their food in flesh. With what design + Lit God the radiant pages? For what purpose + Hung he the planet Plato in the sky + With kindred constellations of pure thought, + If I, a mortal man, can lift my hand + And leave a shadow in the valley there? + It fills my life with meaning to know this, + That God hath ordered so our spiritual world + That every bright thing needs my will to shine, + As it needs His to reach the shining state. + Think of such confidence of God in man! + And I betray it. (He walks about thoughtfully.) + + LOUIS-- You betray it? How? + By holding back the truth about the dwarf? + + ABBOT--I hide the light. + + LOUIS-- You hide it as a seed + Which, if the people eat, the famine spreads, + But which, if planted, wide the harvest waves. + Your own heart tells you you are right in this. + + ABBOT--But when, when is the feeding to begin? + If I to-day withhold the seed, who knows + That I will not to-morrow withhold the yield, + And so continue, building larger barns? + Meanwhile the people in the valley die. + + LOUIS--But God, who sees your purpose in it all, + Sees the day coming when this rock shall be + A beacon, and this region full of light. + + ABBOT--'Twill never be while Benedict is here. + + LOUIS--Oh, but look yonder, Father! Three hours ago + Black clouds besieged the east, and lo, now Day + Stands on the mountain tops and sees them not. + Where Night has gone there's room for Benedict. + + ABBOT--I know that, Louis; but the years go by. + And oh, to use the little breath I have + In doing what I never did before! + How is it I cannot tell them what is true? + + LOUIS--'Twould crush in seed the abbey you would build. + + ABBOT--How can an abbey rise upon a lie? + + LOUIS--You said it was not a lie. + + ABBOT-- It is a lie + Until they know that it is not a lie. + As I do. + + LOUIS-- Will you tell them? + + ABBOT-- (_Walking about._) + I am bound, + Bound hand and foot by cursed policy. + I cannot be a man. + + LOUIS-- Many a church + Has lies like this above the altar place. + + ABBOT--My abbey was to be part of the one. + + LOUIS-- (_After a pause._) + You said, "Until they know it," Father. + + ABBOT-- Yes. + + LOUIS--"As I do." (_The Abbot turns._) + Do you doubt it was the dwarf? + + ABBOT--I do not doubt the fact in the case, but + I may not limit its significance. + + LOUIS-- (_With a smile._) + An angel or a god, then? + + ABBOT-- Half so, yes. + + LOUIS--To free us from our policy? + + ABBOT-- Pray God + It may be, Louis, pray God it may be. + That unknown god should have an altar here. + No, Louis: what I mean is simply this: + This thing that we call evil, may it not + Be the other side of this thing we call good, + The passing of bright planets of the mind, + Dreaming eclipse that is no thing at all, + Simply the passing of the two things, both bright? + God ever wrestles with his shadow, Louis, + And now the bright goes down and now the dark: + And man stands by and watches the great game + With heart divided and with swaying mind + And lifts whichever falls. The game goes on + Forever, and the nations rise and fall + Forever, and fall and rise. And so they strive, + Like light and shade over the mountain slopes, + Each wrestling not for victory but strength. + + LOUIS--And you and Benedict? + + ABBOT-- I am not his foe. + I come from Florence and he comes from Rome. + + LOUIS--And you love painted windows. + + ABBOT-- I love God; + He loves the Church. There is the difference. + He iterates with fire in his eyes + That Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell, + But not a word that Ignorance shall fall + Or Passion lose her lightning in the deep. + I wrestle with the bright against the dark. + + LOUIS--For the world-soul. + + ABBOT-- Neither of us may win. + In fact, I pray God that we may not. + + LOUIS-- How? + + ABBOT--I hope that some free, some _free_ spirit may win. + Not one wrapped round with ignorance, nor one + Bound hand and foot by cursed policy. + But I am not his foe. + + LOUIS-- But he is yours. + + ABBOT--Night does not understand. + + LOUIS-- I cannot see. + + ABBOT--Louis, the greatest man in this great world + Is he who sees all things are going right. + Yet fights as though all things were going wrong. + + (_Louis shakes his head._) + + I know you don't. But I can do no more + Than show my thought. To see it, must be yours. + + LOUIS--Then Oswald's fall-- + + ABBOT-- Not if it gives him strength + To do the work his spirit bids him do, + To wrestle with the dark and with the bright, + To wrestle better than he did before. + And shake the fruit down of that prophesy. + Who knows what God behind the horizon holds + For Oswald till the dawning of that day? + I somehow feel the dream is, as it were, + The warp to which the prophesy is woof, + And that beneath the hills unseen a loom + Rocks as it weaves in dogs and storm and deer + And underneath the meaning of it all. + But I was speaking of the witch's son. + This pebble here I take up in my hand. + I turn it, yet I always see one side. + The other side is toward the underworld, + And though I turned it till the Judgment Day, + That side would still be round there. Bid it grow, + Swell to a bowlder's, now the chapel's size, + And now a globe's. And let us hold it thus. + Above us, on our palms. Like Atlas now + I stand supporting it. (_Pointing as though under the globe._) + Down here I see + A little night following a little day + About a water-drop, a grain of sand, + A point in which my spirit lives and moves. (_Reaching up and around._) + How do I know that up here are not worlds + Lit with Gods' providence and bathed with soul? + What is my thought that it should scale these zones + And take my law of good and evil there + And recreate that life to what I know? + Is my eye God's, that it should see all things? + From what far mountains come the grains of gold + That sparkle in the river of my soul? + Ranges of being and tall peaks of thought + May hold up here a brighter metal still, + Some burning thing would dry my river bed. + The dreams that vein the dark sky of our sleep, + As lightnings vein the night and then are gone, + Whence come they and whither go they, that they leave + Vast expectation and the vacant eye? + And out beyond the chalice of our sleep + That cases round my dew-drop soul, who knows + What oceans roar with life beyond our life, + And spray with stars the dark rocks of the void? + How do I know what creatures come and go + Beyond my little line of night and day, + Doing the will of the Eternal Mind? + I am not Benedict to say, "This is He, + And this is not." + + LOUIS-- Not even of the dwarf? + + ABBOT--God is the author of the book we see + Whose pages are the mountains and the stars. + Though He may sit aloof, his soul pervades + Each word and letter. Prowling in the spring, + The mountain lion feels Him in her paws, + And the wild creatures of the caves are His. + + LOUIS--Was He in Oswald's fall? + + ABBOT-- 'Tis past my thought + How He should not be;--in his rising, too. + If God is with me when I climb a hill, + When I descend do I leave God somewhere + Upon the top? If only he ascends, + How came he in the valley, then, at first? + Only the ignorant halve the universe + And thresh events and say, "The _wheat_ is God's," + Piecing their small minds out with nothingness. + The chaff too served its purpose in its time + And while it served its purpose it was good + And like the wheat it drew its strength from God. + Having served its end, is wheat itself not chaff? + If Oswald's fall is evil in our minds, + It is because we do not see its place. + But where my knowledge ends, does God end, too? + Our brother tumbling from the bluff that night + Into the gorge, but tumbled, as it were, + Off of God's fingers into his great palm. + Ascent and descent are in one straight line. + I see no angle in the universe, + A break in things, a point where God begins + And Satan ends. If, in this strange event, + The people see a movement of the sky + And stand amazed, I stand even more amazed + At what I see than they at seraphim. + For what I see is darkness giving light, + An earth-born thing showing capacity + For deeds divine, and busy in the dark + Not with its own low nature but with God. + I grapple with it and my light goes out. + I feel as though I walked in a strong wind + Along a reed, with only faith for eyes. + Reason calls it to me with a blind man's voice. + That helplessness should bring an angel down, + Is that as wonderful as that it should bring + A devil up to do an angel's work? + What _we_ see, Louis, is the miracle. + What _they_ see, while it jars our sense of things, + Falls nicely into the mental harmony. + + LOUIS--Good becomes evil having served its end. + How Benedict would rage should he hear this. + + ABBOT--Each mind takes of the light what it can hold. + + LOUIS--You know that day in the scriptorium, + When you were reading the Symposium, + What he said, do you remember? + + ABBOT-- Yes, I do. + + LOUIS--"If I had my way I would burn that thing." + + ABBOT--A beam of the sunshine hurts the owl's eyes. + + LOUIS--And he would peck the stars out if he could. + + ABBOT--As though our faith were fungus! + + LOUIS-- If it be, + If it must feed on darkness, let it die. + + ABBOT-- (_Walking about thoughtfully._) + It need not feed on darkness, Louis. + + LOUIS-- This + Miracle, Father, will bring back the day. + + ABBOT-- (_To himself._) + The Age is torn and shaken. Passions swell + And range like winter rivers. I would have it + Lucid and calm as Arno flowing down + By sacred Florence. I am far away, + Far away and my hairs begin to fall. + + LOUIS--This will bring back the day. + + ABBOT-- (_To himself._) And nothing done. + + (_He stands with his eyes upon the ground. Then, + dreamily._) + + Young faces radiant with the golden air + That Plato breathed among the olive leaves. + + LOUIS-- (_Half aloud._) + "If I had my way I would burn that thing." + + ABBOT-- (_Half to himself, his back to Louis._) + And if I had my way--(_He lifts his face._)-- + Oh, I would build + An abbey! I would cut its trenches deep + Down into God, the God of all things. Then + I would lay the white stones of Philosophy, + The Sages who, as gifts to Delphi, brought + Small sheaves of wisdom, offering them to God + As better gifts than first born bulls and goats. + And I would slay the griffin, Policy, + And scatter its bright gold about the world + And lay its carcass for the corner stone. + Its telamons should be those giant men + Who propt the fabric of the ancient world. + The east and west and north and south should lay + Their four white corners on the four broad backs + Of Plato and his solid pupil's mind, + Then him who dove too deep for Rome to see, + Lucretius, maddening round the seeds of things, + And Cicero because he loved the truth. + And there should stand all round as peristyle + The Bards of Greece in cluster, speaking gold; + Young Sappho with the glory of the sea + All round her milk white throat and marble arms, + Proud Pindar fawning kings, and Sophocles, + And he, he, Aeschylus, wild son of fire, + Who never swerved for mincing Policy, + But spake his sea-thought out and shook the world. + Its roof should be the shields of golden song + Wherever burning on the hills of Time, + Wherever smouldering in Eternity. + And I would have all planets God hath hung + Since first His word went forth, "Let there be light," + Within our spiritual heaven, shining here + Without eclipse forever. And up there, + In alto relievo on the frieze, should be + Apollo slaying python Ignorance, + And Darkness with the face of Benedict + Half hung down, heavy, livid, hands and teeth + Tugging and biting at the architrave + To tear these golden letters from the slab. + "THE SOUL IS IN THE BRAIN." And over all, + Towering with her calm eternal eyes, + Athene, soul of Athens, holy One. + Oh, I would build an abbey! + + LOUIS--(_As in prayer._) Father! Father! + + GUIDO-- (_Appearing at the door of the chapel._) + The fifteenth chapter has that blue stain on it. + + ABBOT-- (_Pointing right._) + In the scriptorium, the second shelf; + Get the Symposium; I will read that. + + (_Horrified, the monk stands for a moment, then + goes slowly down the steps across the court, + every now and then glancing back over his + shoulder at the Abbot._) + + LOUIS-- (_In a low voice._) + Remember, Father. Is this policy. (_A pause._) + You know your abbey is not risen yet. + + (_The Abbot bows_ _his head. Louis lifts his + hand as a signal. Guido,_ _crossing the court, + stops and stands waiting._) + + One breath of this would bring the rafters down. (_A pause._) + + ABBOT-- (_Turning, with his eyes closed._) + The other Bible, Guido. + + (_The monk quickens his step and_ _enters the + dormitory._) + + LOUIS-- And you know + Some of the brothers might tell Benedict, + And he would send it blazing down to Rome. + + ABBOT--Lamp after lamp goes out for policy. + + (_He opens the gate through which Ely passed._) + + LOUIS--Better one lamp than total darkness, though. + + ABBOT--Say nothing to the carriers of the affair. + + LOUIS--Have you cautioned Oswald? + + ABBOT--(_Astounded._) Cautioned Oswald? + + LOUIS-- Yes. + + ABBOT--You said he was unconscious. + + LOUIS-- When I found him + He was unconscious. But from what he dropped + Yesterday in his cell, I am sure he knows + It was the dwarf that brought him up the rocks. + + ABBOT--You should have told me that. (_He walks to and fro._) + + LOUIS-- Where is he now? + + ABBOT--He had four golden letters to put on. + + LOUIS--Down in the village at his work again! + Why, Father! + + ABBOT-- He insisted. + + LOUIS-- (_Under his breath._) Benedict! (_A silence._) + + ABBOT--Get ready and go down. A word from him, + And down the abbey falls. + + LOUIS--Never to rise. + + ABBOT--And yet-- + I do not think he'll tell it. Rumor, you know, + Has stamped an image on the heated mind. + They never could efface it by a thought + So monsterous as that devils had turned saints + And tripped the air with angels, hand in hand, + Moving as musically as summer stars. + Having no coin that bears the face of truth + They never will suspect a counterfeit, + And so no one will put the question to him. + Unquestioned, certainly Oswald will not speak. + + LOUIS--But if he should? (_A pause._) + Awhile ago you prayed + Some god to free us from our policy. (_A pause._) + What time did he go down? + + ABBOT--Before day-break. + The town at that time would have been asleep. + + LOUIS--And Benedict, who never sleeps? + + ABBOT--Go down. + + LOUIS--Whose dragon eyes are ever open? + + (_He starts toward the dormitory._) + + ABBOT--Stay. + + LOUIS--Supposing Oswald has already told? + If he has, Benedict will come up here + Raging as upon a den of wolves. Then. + If he should say: "Ha! So it was the dwarf + And not an angel saved your monk. And here + You pass the deed off as a miracle + To swell your abbey's revenues and rob + Me of the alms of my parishioners?" + He sees me coming down the mountain side + And shouts this at me, and I say to him--? + + ABBOT--Surprised, amazed, you lift your hands: "Mon Dieu! + A son of Satan save St. Giles' child! + Do devils, then, wait upon men of God + Working salvation? Do they? If they do, + What means this storm of banners in the dawn, + This, 'Dieu le volt!' and these bright harnassed knights + Trampling the Orient into battle smoke? + Why this vast tumult in the dead sunrise? + If devils will take up arms and fight for God, + Why roll these human surges down the East + To smoke and break about the Sepulcher + In hard white foam from which the ravens fly? + Let Hell lead forth her legions from the pit + Impervious to drought and pain alike, + To take and guard the Tomb. No, Father, no. + 'Tis blasphemy, the unforgiven sin, + To ascribe to Hell a deed that God hath done." + + LOUIS--Says Father Benedict: "But brother Oswald + Told me himself it was the witch's son." + + ABBOT--"Mon Dieu again! Could Father keep his wits + After a fall like that, and, rising, say: + 'This is the hand that struck me, this that saved'? + It was the dwarf that threw the brother down." + With words like these, chisels of policy, + Upon the shield of each returning knight + That hath spilt blood about the Sepulcher, + We carve an angel that shall plead our cause + Through all the fields and villages of France + And far on into the North and--Ah, this train! + This train shall be the trumpet that shall blow + Our miracle abroad through Italy, + And Italy is the trumpet of the world. + Talk to the strangers then of shooting stars, + Of sounds of heavenly music in the night, + But only when a question calls it forth. + Climbing the tree gives flavor to the fruit. + Be reticent; that will add majesty. + Appear subdued and point to yonder peaks + Where, in the gray dawn, gleams of vanishing wings + Shone on the mountain snows like molten gold. + You understand? About the witch's son, + _Adeste cum silentio._ + + (_After passing out through the gate, the Abbot + turns and calls after Louis, who is crossing + the court._) + + Louis, + No word as yet to Oswald of the dream. + He would not see the glory of it now, + Only the horror. I should fear the result. + + BASIL-- (_Coming from behind the chapel._) + Macias is coming with another sorel. (_Louis enters the dormitory._) + Bah, then! Go on. St. Christopher. Plum-head. + + (_Drawing himself up as Rene and Simon come from + behind the chapel._) + + I am the Prior. Down, St. Peter! John! + + RENE-- (_To Simon._) + Matthew, thou publican! + + SIMON-- Bacchus, thou saint! + + (_He points forward to the corner of the dormitory + where Pierre and his companions enter with + the wine vessels which they proceed to place + beside the wall._) + + BASIL--Simply the old clothes of My Lady Wine. + + FIRST MONK--The blessed Virgin grant it be the train. + I had half yielded to old Andrew's dream; + I feared the train was lost. + + SECOND MONK-- Another dream? + + FIRST MONK--Last night, between the glances of the moon, + While his soul grabbled in the fogs of sleep, + He beheld Father's new cope in a brook, + Swishing against a fallen sycamore. + The censer and the golden chalices + Lay gleaming on the gravel. + + SIMON-- (_Who has been tipping the casks._) + And the wine? + + FIRST MONK--While he was hunting for it in his dream, + Like a blind weasel for a nest of eggs, + And had his hand on what felt like a skin, + The matins rang. He's been gruff ever since. + There's not a holy bell can call to prayer + To smooth our spirits with the thought of God, + But brings him from his hole with ruffled quills, + Threatening the belfry with his palmer's staff. + He says he hopes the Devil has snared the train + And spurred the asses off the bluffs to Hell. + + SIMON--Now God forbid, with all that precious wine! + + LEO-- (_To Basil._) + I shall tell Father on you. + + BASIL--(_Imitating Leo's small voice._) Hear him roar! + + RENE--If you roar, Lion, when the hunter comes-- + + SOLOMAN-- (_Leaning out of the window._) + _Heus, heus, O fratres, favete linguis!_ + The train is safe. The tigers of the god + Are ramping down the mountain, yoked in vines + Whose dangling clusters sway their tawny backs + And purple all the sky above the peaks. + Limp in the car the noisy Bromios + Tips the full cup and stains his ivory breast. + Look, yonder his herald, plump Silenus, comes! + + (_He points up the mountain over the gate through + which the Abbot passed._) + + RENE--Ho, that's the occasion of the trumpet blast! + + FIRST MONK--No need of casks. + + BASIL-- No need of empty casks. + This is keel that draws five fathoms full. + + RENE--And where it anchors, there a reef appears. + + BASIL--And where it founders, there the--sea goes down. + + RENE--Its beak hath ta'en the color o' the wave. + + SIMON-- (_To_ FIRST MONK.) + If Father Benedict had had the train + Or been among the muleteers, I'd say + No wonder Andrew couldn't find the wine. + + RENE--Come on, Simon; let's go meet Macias. + + BASIL--If we can't wine it we can dine it. + + SIMON--(_As he passes Leo._) Bah! + + LOUIS-- + + (_Dressed for travel, appearing at the corner of + the dormitory._) + + Are they in sight yet? + + PIERRE-- It was not the train. + 'Twas Father Benedict. + + (_Louis stands as one stunned._) + + What can it mean? + + (_Louis crosses the court and takes a position at + the corner of the chapel near the gate._) + + FIRST MONK--He never came as early as this before. + + SECOND MONK--And see how worried Father looks. + + PIERRE-- I fear + That some one has told Oswald of the dream, + And he has fainted. + + FIRST MONK-- I will loiter about. + + (_With his eyes upon the ground the monk saunters + over toward the chapel steps and, apparently + absorbed in telling his beads, loiters about + in order to overhear the conversation. The + Abbot enters, followed by Father Benedict + leading an ass. Green twigs are stuck about_ + _the bridle. The Abbot appears thoughtful._) + + ABBOT--What do you mean by wolves? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Wild paws that prey + Upon the fold. + + ABBOT-- And by the fold, you mean--? + + FATHER BENEDICT--The Church. + + ABBOT-- These wolves live on the mountains here? + + FATHER BENEDICT--They do. + + ABBOT-- And are not far? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Some are not far. + Within an eyeshot of the peaks. + + ABBOT-- And some + Have even made this abbey here their den? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Would make it so. + + ABBOT-- And from these holy halls + Steal forth and prey--well, let us say, upon + Your flock? + + FATHER BENEDICT--They have preyed there. + + ABBOT-- Since when? + + FATHER BENEDICT--And with the fleeces wiped their heathen mouths, + These wolves of Hell. + + ABBOT-- Benedict! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Ay, wolves of Hell. + Hear what I say. Ah, Father, Father! + Sometimes we think our Lord is dead in heaven, + His enemies so thrive upon the earth. + We see the Devil's squatters on our lands + With deeds that seem to bear the seal of Heaven; + Yea, everything they do seems blest of Heaven. + They plow and sow; God gives them sun and rain. + Their fields wave green; the frosts are kept at bay. + They build their barns; Heaven holds her storms in leash + And seems to slumber while the singing foe + Silver their scythes beneath the harvest moon. + But when the season plumps the golden ears + And Satan brings his sacks to get the grain, + God puts his sickle in and takes the crop. + + ABBOT--Or sends a reaper? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Ay, sends Benedict. + When vines are bending and the song is heard + Of Bacchus revelling in the bubbling must, + The golden trumpets of the sun in heaven + Proclaim a festival and wake the skies. + Angels come tripping to the foaming vats + And, while the devils tread the vintage out, + Brim their bright casks with gushing purple meath + To crown the crystal goblets of the saints, + Leaving the pulp to slop the swine of Hell. + + ABBOT--In you I see an angel? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- With a cask. + + ABBOT--And in the abbey here I see the vat? + + FATHER BENEDICT--A goblet. + + ABBOT-- And in myself a-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Saint. + + ABBOT-- Ha! (_Searching the Priest's face._) + I do not understand you, Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Then I will put it this way: See this garb? + You know I am a shepherd. + + ABBOT-- Yes, I know. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And tend a flock of sheep. + + ABBOT-- I know you do. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And sheep have wool? + + ABBOT-- Yes. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Now we go afield. + Do briers grow in pastures? (_The Abbot nods._) + And have flukes? + + ABBOT--I see. You mean to say that flukes tear wool. + + FATHER BENEDICT--That's what I mean. + + ABBOT-- That, therefore, from the shears + The fleece comes lighter to the shepherd's hands. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And to the Master's. + + ABBOT-- Ha! but in this case-- + For your insinuation I perceive + Clearly, I think;--well, in this case, I say, + It does not follow that the Master gets + Less tribute from the flock; for, Benedict, + Remember this: When God's bright seraphim + Collect His revenues, it matters not + Whether it be your hand that pays, or mine. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Provided your hand pays, it matters not. + + ABBOT--Ah, now you leave your figure. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- And take yours. + + ABBOT--You climbed the mountain, then--? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- To get my wool. + + ABBOT--And chop the brier? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- That belonged to God. + + ABBOT--Then tell me this: If it belonged to God, + How then do you, His shepherd, claim the wool + That God's own flukes have pulled from his own sheep? + + FATHER BENEDICT--You do not understand. + + ABBOT-- I think I do. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I did not mean the brier was God's, but this: + That it belonged to God to chop it down. + + ABBOTABBOT--The brier, then, has fallen? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Praise the saints. + + ABBOT--You came to tell me how the blow was struck? + + FATHER BENEDICT--I stopped to tell you how I got my wool. + + ABBOT--You need not. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Why? + + ABBOT-- I know. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You know? + + ABBOT-- I do. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I have not spoken since I left him. + + ABBOT-- Well. + + FATHER BENEDICT--How did you learn it, then? + + ABBOT-- I had a seed. + Your coming was the sun, your words the shower; + It could not help but put forth leaves and bloom. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Strange, very strange. + + ABBOT-- To see a stalk with flukes + Put forth a bloom? 'Tis not unnatural. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I do not understand. + + ABBOT-- Nor I. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What? + + ABBOT-- This: + How that a shepherd could believe a wolf + Had suckled a lost lamb. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What do you mean? + + ABBOT--That it is strange that you, a priest of God, + Could see an angel's track upon a slope + And say: "Here went a devil up the rocks." + + FATHER BENEDICT--It is too dark. + + ABBOT-- 'Twill ever be too dark + To see aught but an angel in that gulch. + + FATHER BENEDICT--'Tis midnight. + + ABBOT-- No; for yonder peaks are flushed, + And there bright wings are wasting in the dawn. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Father, what do you mean? + + ABBOT--(_Closing his eyes._) Listen, Benedict. + In an old abbey down in Italy + There hangs an ancient chime of seven bells. + Oft when a child I heard them in the dawn + Singing like angels in the Apennines, + Their tones so blended, so harmoniously + Tuned to the planets that, when twilight fell, + They were the echoes of the Pleiades. + Those old, old bells! I hear them still sometimes. + We children called them by the golden names + Archangels wear. Well, in a storm one night + Raphael went down. Some say a huge black hand + Strangled him in his tower and hurled him down. + And others say--mark, Benedict--that God-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--Anathema! + + ABBOT-- God's hand that shaped the spheres + And hung them in the belfry of the night + To ring through heaven an universal mass, + And set the holy bells of earth in tune, + And set our hearts in tune with holy bells. + That, in the blue cathedral of the air, + One chant might rise from hearts and bells and spheres, + Some say that His, God's hand, threw down that bell. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I say, anathema! + + ABBOT-- And so you think--? + + FATHER BENEDICT--I think it was the foul hand of Hell. + + ABBOT-- Ah? + Since withered faces skir along the sky, + Might it have been some--witch? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I said the hand + And that includes the fingers. + + ABBOT-- So it does. + Well, Benedict, there you and I are one. + We hold that that which jangles God's great chime. + Whether it strike a sphere or a bell or a heart, + Springs from the pit and hath its root in Hell. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Ay, we agree. + + ABBOT-- Then follow the same path + And you shall see your seraph of the night + Bleed out his strength upon the spears of dawn. + 'Twas thought that Raphael's tumbling down the rocks + Had wrecked his silver voice, and so he lay + Three years half-sunken in a slimy marsh, + His golden throat choked up with water-weeds + And fetid lilies breathing of the swamp. + 'Twas said that oft when morning woke the bells + Upon the heights, a drowned voice was heard, + A strangled booming in the marsh-fogs. Well. + One Sabbath while the morning star still burned + A lone white taper, on a sudden from his couch + The ancient bellman started. The old chime + Was singing in its tower, and, like a thrush + That eyeless hath escaped a narrow cage, + The voice of Raphael on his bough again + Rang through the woods. The eagles on the crags + Shook out their wings and circled in the sky; + The mountain shepherds shouted from the rocks, + While down the ether, flaming out of the East, + Melodious angels in the sun-burst sang. + + (_With his eyes burning and fixed upon the Priest._) + + Now, Benedict, who lifted up that bell? + + FATHER BENEDICT--'Twas God reclaimed it and restored His chime. + + ABBOT--And if that bell had been a--soul, who then? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Still God. + + ABBOT-- And if that soul had been-- (_Vehemently._) + Oswald? + + (_For a moment they look into one another's eyes, + the Abbot with a penetrating glance, the + Priest with a look of blank amazement. The + Abbot quickly drops his head and walks aside, + his face almost white, the drawn mouth and + furrowed brow showing a mind in desperation, + casting about for an escape._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With rising resentment._) + What does this mean? + + (_The monk, who a few yards back has been + pacing to and fro in order to overhear + the conversation, has stopped and stands + observing them. He has the same bewildered_ + _expression as the Priest. The face of Louis + near the corner of the chapel reflects the + palor and perturbation of the Abbot's._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You put my faith to test? (_A pause._) + A damned insult! + + (_His brow darkens and he turns aside. Suddenly his + face lights up as with a revelation._) + + Ah, I see what it means. + Out with it, Father. Speak what God commands. (_A pause._) + Before you speak I know what you will say. (_A pause._) + Out of pure envy you are silent. + + (_He turns away. While the Priest and the Abbot + walk about, each occupied with his own + thought, Pierre and his two companions + approach and stand a few yards away, + observing them._) + + ABBOT--(_With a glance toward the Priest_.) Out--? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Without turning._) + Of envy, or else fear that I would shrink. + You need not, though. + + ABBOT--(_Stopping._) I fear that you would shrink? + + FATHER BENEDICT--To you, too, my great honor has been revealed. + + (_A pause._) + + ABBOT--I do not understand you, Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Turning and facing the Abbot._) + Why do you hide it from me? + + ABBOT-- What are you + Hiding from me? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You feared that I would shrink + To tear those jaws upon the mountain side. + Your dropping of your eyes shows I am right. + + ABBOT-- (_Walking aside, composed._) + I was not sure. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Why did you think that God + Had revealed it only to you? + + ABBOT-- I was not sure + That what I had in mind you had in mind. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And you thought you would feel about and see + If I knew it. And if I did not, "Truth, retire. + Do not obtrude yourself on Benedict. + He knows the hunter's dream. If he cannot + Discover whose hands those were the hunter saw + Reach through the green boughs of the Tree of Life + And tear the hell-jaws from the holy deer, + It is not your fault. And I lose no glory. + It is his own crass mind. He comes from Rome. + Florence is Athens come to life again." + + ABBOT--Envy, you think? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I know it. When you asked + Whose hand it was that lifted up that bell, + I knew that you were feeling me about + To see if I knew that the hand was mine. + Had I not known it, do you suppose I think + You would have told me? Of your own accord: + "Benedict, God hath chosen you for this. + Be faithful to it. The glory is yours"? Not much. + You pride yourself on what you think is God, + Your erudition. But I know some things. (_He walks aside._) + + ABBOT--It is hard to know what another has in mind. + + FATHER BENEDICT--It may be hard for the Athenians. + + ABBOT--I am an old man, Benedict, and with + White hair the eyes blur and the mind dulls. You, + Vigorous in body and in intellect. + Scale heights I cannot climb. Bear with me, then. + If I just now, forgetting youth is past, + Ventured to tilt with you, is it not enough + That you stand there triumphant while I here + Lie prostrate with my gray hairs in the dust? + + (_He bows his head and walks to the rear._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With a superior air._) + Rome is Jerusalem, the city of God. + + (_Biting down his smile, Louis advances, his face + assuming a doleful expression._) + + LOUIS-- (_In a low voice, barely hiding his irony._) + Don't treat the old man that way, Benedict. + You do not know how keenly Father feels + The issue of this bout. Amazed I stood + Just yonder by the chapel steps and watched + Your spears break into fire. O Benedict, + What skill, what skill, what admirable skill! + + FATHER BENEDICT--In dialectics I do boast some skill. + + LOUIS--Compared to Father's admirable skill! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With a leer toward the Abbot._) + For what I have I thank no heathen sage. + + LOUIS--With that composure which the gods must feel + Your reached your spear and slipped his lady's glove-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--His lady's glove? + + LOUIS-- The secret from his heart + In spite of all his desperate guarding it. + + (_Guido comes from the dormitory with a large book + under his arm. As he passes toward the chapel + he turns his burden toward the Abbot, who + gives it an unconcerned glance and walks + right._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Why should he hide it from me? + + LOUIS-- I can't say. + Father is not a man to show his heart. + He no doubt had his reason for it. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Humph! + + LOUIS--I do know, though, that Father admires you. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + Admires me? + + LOUIS-- Yes. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Scorns me. + + LOUIS-- You are wrong. + + FATHER BENEDICT--How do you know he does? + + LOUIS-- Before you came, + Father had just conceived of a great temple + With you in large space on the entablature. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Opening his eyes._) + That is another proof he knew that I + Was to have part in that great enterprise + And achieve glory. And he lied to me. + + (_The Abbot speaks to Pierre, who turns and goes + out, right._) + + LOUIS--You may mistake what Father had in mind. + He may have thought it would be policy + To keep you in the dark about this thing. + + FATHER BENEDICT--What cause had he to fear that I would shrink + To face the glory of the Lord that day? + 'Tis only guilt that fears to face the Lord. + + LOUIS--You may mistake what Father had in mind. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Too subtle, I suppose, for my dull brain. + + LOUIS--I do not think, though, that he envies you. + + FATHER BENEDICT--You may have your opinion. + + LOUIS-- You may not. + I mean you may not know what Father means. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + You two know everything. + + LOUIS-- I know one thing. + You would not have said, "You two know everything," + If you had been here half an hour ago. (_Walking aside._) + With you in large space on the entablature. + + FATHER BENEDICT--He need not think that God revealed to him + Alone my glory, for I knew it, too. + Blood appeared on my hands the other night, + And while the congregation sat amazed, + The altar cups took fire, and a white dove-- + + (_To the Abbot, who has drawn near._) + + The night the brother fell I saw some things + During service would have made my hair stand up + Had I been less courageous than I am, + Or less near God. You would have quaked with fear, + And sought the books of some old heathen sage + For explanation. I--I went to God, + With the result that I am ready now. + I have been shown the blood of that great hound. + + (_He looks at his hand._) + + And I have got God's meaning. I am called. + Now, when the chase starts I will make my way + Up to the mountain tops and meet the Lord, + And Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell. + + (_He espies the wine vessels over against the + dormitory wall and goes toward them, pulling + the ass by the bridle._) + + ABBOT--What did you come up here to see me for? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Stopping._) + Come up to see you? + + ABBOT-- You are here. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I am. (_A pause._) + It seems you don't know how I got my wool. + + (_He continues his way across the court. Louis and + the Abbot whisper together. In the rear, from + behind the chapel, Macias, the hunter, enters + with a young deer upon his back, and at his + belt a brace of geese. Simon is holding one + of the fowls by the tip of its wing, Basil_ + _and Rene following._) + + BASIL--What'll you have, Simon? + + SIMON-- Collops and sauce. + + BASIL--Pluck-pudding or crupper? + + SIMON-- Both, God bless us. + + BASIL-- Both! + + RENE--Goose, too? + + SIMON-- Ay, stuffed with plums. + + BASIL-- Why, you just had + A hunk of beef. + + SIMON-- Sh! (_He points to the Abbot._) + + RENE--(_Nudging him._) Basil, see the twigs. + + (_The jesters chuckle and come forward toward the + Priest, while the hunter and Simon pass + out behind the dormitory. The Abbot also + approaches the Priest, followed a few feet + back by Louis._) + + LOUIS--(_Huskily._) Be wary, Father; it may be a snare. + + ABBOT--A little wine will bring it to the light. + + BASIL--Well, it is spring when asses put forth leaves. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Ay, rue that devils flee from in the dark. + + (He looks into the casks.) + + ABBOT--But when you left the town the dawn was bright. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The dawn was bright? + + ABBOT-- The day is two hours old. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_After a long look at the Abbot._) + When I rode out of town the sun's red car + Stood hub-deep in the western ocean's sand. + I met the morning on the mountain tops + Fresh dropt from heaven, with one golden wing + Bright on the pines, the other softly sheathed + In valley shadows thinning round her plumes. + The night I spent far back among the hills. + For three hours in the darkness on the road + I staked my life upon the ass' step + And ass and life upon these slips of rue. + + (_He thrusts his switch into the narrow necked + diotas, and drawing it out, feels the end._) + + If any manna fell upon the heights + The Devil must have harvested the flakes: + I found none on the way. + + ABBOT-- I fear the fiend + Has washed it down with our good Tuscan wine + And dressed Hell's tables with the golden cups + The Abbot Boldi sent from Aosta. + The tide is out and the Italian moon + Has slipped her sphere that ruled the purple flood. + These are the empty shells that held the sea. + + (_Pierre enters, carrying a flagon and a silver + cup. Simon follows him._) + + Have something, Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Ah, you are good. + + ABBOT--What could have drawn you back among the hills + When every pass was choked with drizzling dag? + + FATHER BENEDICT--I'm like a desert. + + RENE--(_To Basil._) And there flows the Nile. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_To the Abbot._) + The service of our Lord that knows no flaw, + Mountains or darkness or the voice of storms. + Last night--Fill it up.--Last night God's--There.-- + Last night God's dread apparitor-- (_He drinks._) + + ABBOT-- What's that? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Tasting his lips._) + Rumney, isn't it? + + ABBOT-- Not that-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With mock seriousness._) + Isn't it? + + ABBOT-- I mean-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--Pour me another, then; I'll taste again. + + (_Pierre pours._) + + ABBOT--You said God's dreadful summoner-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Appeared. + And clapped his irons on old-- + + (_He drinks and again holds the cup toward Pierre._) + + ABBOT-- Benedict,-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--One more. + + ABBOT-- Don't think-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- The night is in my veins. + + BASIL--(_To Rene._) It's a dry night. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Holding up the cup._) + But the red dawn is breaking-- (_He drinks._) + + RENE-- (_To Basil._) + The abbey here. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And lightening-- (_He drinks._) + + BASIL--(_To Rene._) The great deep. + + RENE--Come, sing the matins, Simon, for the dawn-- + + ABBOT--Don't think it is the wine I care for. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Ha! + The cup, eh?--Take it. + + (_He hands the cup to Pierre and leads the ass back + to one of the benches, upon which he climbs + and stands fixing the saddle._) + + ABBOT-- A while ago you said + God's dreadful summoner appeared. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Yes. + (_Pierre goes out._) Whoa! + + SIMON-- (_Following Pierre._) + Pierre. + + PIERRE--No. + + SIMON-- Just a tiff. + + PIERRE-- No, I say. + + SIMON-- (_Supplicating._) Brother! (_Spitefully._) + Dinky! Bed-bug! Pizzle-wizzle! (_With a grimace._) + U-g-h! (_He spits at him and turns back._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Who has mounted._) + Now if you get my switch, I think I'll go. + + (_One of the monks stoops and picks up the switch, + which he hands to the Priest, who looks from + the Abbot to Louis and then from Louis to the + Abbot._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--You see, I could ride off without one word. + + LOUIS--Without one word of what? + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Contemptuously._) One word of what! + You think I came from town and so does he. + + ABBOT--What of it? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Simply this: that I did not. + + ABBOT--We are glad to have learned that. + + LOUIS-- Delighted. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Humph! + And you don't wish to know where I have been? + + ABBOT--'Tis immaterial. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- That is another proof + You envy me. First, you conceal from me + That which you feared would blow my name abroad; + And now you fear to hear where I have been + Because from what you know of me you know + Whatever comes I meet events as friends, + And never sally out but I return + With spoil, and that stirs up the green in you. + Now I will tell it though the heavens fall. + Old Hartzel's dead. + + ABBOT-- I find no joy in that. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Of course, you don't. + + RENE--(_Calling across the court._) Old Hartzel's dead! + + BASIL--(_Under his breath._) Thank God! + + (_The monks upon the chapel steps and others + sitting about upon the benches start up and + gather forward._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--You don't think I told that to give you joy? + + ABBOT--It matters nothing to me in either case. + + FATHER BENEDICT--But this will matter something. Listen now. + + (_Leaning over and speaking in the Abbot's ear_.) + + I get his forty neat and all the land + Between the river and the raddle-hedge + South of the village, with the acreage + Of tilth and vines that fronts the rising sun + Near the White Torrent. Does _that_ give you joy? + + (_He strikes the ass with the switch and starts + left._) + + BASIL--(_Aloud._) Thank _God!_ + + ABBOT--(_Lifting his hand._) This is the work of Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Stopping._) You mean that as reproach? + + ABBOT--I simply mean + We had no hand in this; the glory is yours. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Come with me. + + (_He rides on toward the gate. The Abbot walks + beside him. Louis, behind, where he cannot + be seen, follows them. The bell rings and + the monks move toward the chapel and enter, + leaving the court bare._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You remember, I suppose, + As we clashed spears a while ago I said + The abbey here was a goblet, and you a saint. + I might say that I spoke in irony, + But that would not be nice. + + ABBOT-- And you said, too, + Something about an angel with a cask. + + FATHER BENEDICT--That is a cut at me. I recollect. + I said that I would fill your cup. + + ABBOT-- Proceed. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Leaning over._) + Of this estate you get one cow. You hear? + That's a fine liquor, eh, Father? (_To the ass._) Come up. + + (_Pierre comes from the dormitory and crosses the + court toward the chapel._) + + You are an old man and your work is done. + You may retire now and live on milk. + 'Twill nourish that great intellect of yours. + + LOUIS-- (_Under his breath._) + As well as anything that you could give. + + ABBOT--I welcome anything that can do that. + + FATHER BENEDICT--If it be heathen. + + ABBOT-- Benedict, before you came + Louis and I were talking of the things + That late have happened. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- The dream. + + ABBOT-- Oswald's fall + And his unnatural rescue from the gulch. + + FATHER BENEDICT--'Twas _super_natural, not _un_natural. + + ABBOT--A nice discrimination, Benedict. + I do not see as you do. You were trained + By masters who, no doubt, had they heard this + Distinction, would have said: "_Benissime!_" + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Superciliously._) + Well done is _optime._ + + ABBOT--(_With mock humility._) Just so--just so-- + My master would have said--yes, _optime._ + A boon it is that words cannot change things. + + (_Pierre, who has climbed the steps slowly, + listening the while, enters the chapel._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--You feared that I would shrink to play my part? + + ABBOT--We feared if you should learn what your part is-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--That I would shrink? + + ABBOT-- If you should learn your part. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Getting angry._) + You feared that I would shrink? + + ABBOT--(_Hesitatingly._) W-e-l-l-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _Say_ it. + + ABBOT-- Yes. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Shaking his finger._) + Deep in your heart you wish I would, old man. + 'Twould fill your soul with joy. But mark you this: + To give you joy is not my destiny. + + (_He rides out through the gate._) + + ABBOT--Your destiny, Benedict, is in God's hand. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Thank God it's not in yours. (_A pause._) + + ABBOT-- You must go down. + Oswald, by noon, will have finished up his work. + Stay with him till he does, then bring him back. + + LOUIS--If I go now, though, Benedict will suspect + Something is up. + + (_The Abbot goes toward the steps, Louis half + following him._) + + As it is, he does not know + That Oswald has returned to work. (_A pause._) Besides, + After his long, hard ride he will want rest. + He will not go near the church. (_A pause._) + What do you say? (_A pause._) + I will go after service. + + ABBOT-- (_After a pause_.) Very well. + + (_He enters the chapel, followed by Louis._) + + + _SCENE THREE--A street in the village showing a low thatched + cottage with a door made accessible by steps. To the left + of the door is a small square open window, on the sill of + which are garden plants and pots of winter flowers put + there to get the morning sun. In the corner of the yard, + right, is a well with an old wooden wheel high up on posts. + At the end of the chain hanging from it is a bucket from + which water is leaking back into the well._ + + _Madam Valmy, the country-woman who has just come to town and + who has a basket upon her arm, has stopped before the house + and is looking intently left._ + + MADAM VALMY--Aunt Rachel! + + A VOICE--(_Back in the house._) Yes. + + MADAM VALMY--(_After a pause._) O auntie! + + THE VOICE-- Yes, child, yes. + I get this dough off. Rosa! + + (_From the right, Madam Bacqueur enters. She is + bareheaded and carries a child in her arms._) + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Every day + Some dark deed sends a shudder through all hearts. + Who is it this time? + + MADAM VALMY-- No one seems to know. + It happened on the mountain, Rosa said. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--I wonder if Father Benedict has returned? + + MADAM VALMY--Returned from where? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- He rode away last night + Into the mountains. I do hope and pray-- + + (_They stand looking left. From the right, Hugh + Capet enters hurriedly. Reaching over the + fence to the well he swings the bucket to his + mouth._) + + You know so many strange and evil things + Have happened lately. Just a week ago + Old mother Sar was palsied. Then young Foy, + In the dead of night, saw witch-fire on the heath. + Next day two cows, their udders drizzling blood, + Ran snorting down the road into the wood, + And all the village curs that ventured out + Came yelping to their kennels cramped with fear + As though the devils chased them. + + MADAM VALMY-- Did you ever! + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- (To Hugh Capet who hurries out, left.) + You will come back and tell us what it is? + + HUGH CAPET--That all depends, Madam, that all depends. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--Indeed they did. And that's not all. Thursday + A black stone fell from heaven. Father said + It was a challenge. And that very night + Occurred a wonder during complines. Yes, + The golden chalices in the church took fire + And circled round the altar. Blood appeared + On Father's hands, and while all sat amazed, + Looking to see him caught away to heaven, + A snow-white dove flew through the trancept wall, + The Holy Spirit, Father says. You know + The canvass that they keep covering the cross + That Oswald carves, round that it whisked and moaned, + And Rachel says she heard the voice of Christ + Under the canvass: "It will not be done." + Meaning the cross, I thought; but Father says: + "Maybe it means God's will will not be done," + And so it proved. Disaster came at dawn. + Pierre, the sacristan of good St. Giles, + Brought the news down to Father Benedict. + But you have heard of the great miracle? No? + And all the world has heard of it? + + MADAM VALMY-- You know + I have not been to town since Sunday week. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--Oh, angels have fluttered down on us since then! + And will again, so Father says. La me! + I tell you, Madam Valmy, if any grave + In the churchyard there had jumped a horrid ghost + To stalk the moonlight in a rotten shroud, + There'd be less stir among the village folk. + I know not how it was. It seems they found + The dear monk, Oswald, bruised and bathed with blood, + + (_She clasps her child to her heart + passionately._) + + Lying before the monastery gate. + + MADAM VALMY--Why, Clotilde! + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Yes, indeed. And _that's_ not all. + To think we slept through all of it! To think + We did not wake and cry out, "God is here!" + And then run up and down and ring the bells. + Oh, expectation kindles every bush + For our Lord's coming. + + MADAM VALMY-- What? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Oh, everything! + How wonderful are mountains angels' feet + Have trodden on! How beautiful the air! + Oh, everything seems different to me now. + I half expect to see the stone put forth + A human face and speak to me of God. + Dear Madam Valmy, trees are not really trees. + As Father says, all things have passed away, + And with the miracle the other night + Our Lord begins his reign upon the earth. + For hours I sit and look in my child's face + And wonder if he sees. + + MADAM VALMY-- What? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- (_Holding up her child._) + Fire! fire! + O child, child, see the fields, the glory-- + + A VOICE--(_To the right._) Fire? + + JULES BACQUEUR-- (_Entering._) + Where is the fire? + + MADAM VALMY--The crowd, you see. + + JULES BACQUEUR-- Whose house? + + MADAM VALMY--Rosa ran in and said some one was hurt. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--Don't you go with them, husband. + + (_The smith goes out, left._) + + Jardin's been + Trying to get the men to storm the heights + And kill the heathen and the witch. + + THE VOICE--(_Back in the house._) Rosa! + + MADAM VALMY--She is not here. And he is still alive? + + MADAM BACQUEUR--There's not a night since the dear brother fell + But what I've heard her on the roof. + + MADAM VALMY-- Clotilde! + + MADAM BACQUEUR--But oh, the Holy Ghost was with him. Yes, + His staff they found next morning and his hood-- + Thank God for that--they found his hood and staff + Down in the gorge, full forty feet below + The mountain road. + + MADAM VALMY-- Not over the steep gray bluff! + + MADAM BACQUEUR--Think of a fall like that! At break of day + They found him at the monastery gate + Unconscious, carried there by unseen hands-- + + MADAM VALMY--What! + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Yes, indeed. And those who found him saw + Archangels sitting on the mountain tops + With golden shields, and there were sounds of war + Far off as they were fighting in the clouds; + Driving the witches off to hell, no doubt. + + MADAM VALMY--On _these_ mountains? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- And even _that's_ not all. + + MADAM VALMY-- (_Putting her arms about her._) + Dear Madam Bacqueur. + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- I get so dizzy. + You must have Rachel tell you. I won't fall. + + (_She takes hold of the fence._) + + Such wonders and such cures and things to come. + I dare not think of much less speak of that. + Such brilliance, la! You should see Father's face + How it lightens when he speaks of it. His eyes + Look far away across the glory fields. + "Bretheren, this miracle is but the blossom + Whose fruit shall fall in fire upon the world. + Pray, all of you, that you may be perpared." + + MADAM VALMY--For what? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- (_Catching her breath._) + I am afraid I-- + + MADAM VALMY-- Don't try, then. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--There is a glory far off in the air. + Father has seen it and his eyes are bright. + _So_ bright. Rachel will tell you. Or it may be + He sees the pilgrims that shall gather here. + This morning Marie heard two brothers say + There's sure to be a shrine where Oswald fell. + Think of it, Madam Valmy, these streets thronged + With holy men that live beyond the sea. + I never even thought to pray for that. + God does all things so easily, though. And-- + And all for his dear sake. But I don't know. + The Scriptures say Satan shall be let loose. + + MADAM VALMY--The shrine? Indeed I do. + In the last days; in these days, then. Do you? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- How good of you! + You always did have so much faith. + + MADAM VALMY-- You know + The day your child was christened-- + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- Oh, how true! + How like a star his _name_ will shine! + + MADAM VALMY-- I now + Predict again. He'll be a saint. + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- (_In utter amazement._) + A-- + + MADAM VALMY-- Saint. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--You think he will? Oh, do you, Madam Valmy? + Do you, indeed? Oh, think of what that means + To little Oswald here! To wear a name + A blessed saint hath worn and given him + With his own lips at the baptismal font; + To see a white hand beckon from the sky + And hear forever in each vesper chime + A saint's clear voice calling his soul to come + And flower out beneath the holy bells. + Oh, think, Fidele, some day when he is old + And in his cloister yonder on the mountain, + When the dear brothers gathered after prayer + Shall talk of holy things, and one shall say: + "My father fought with Montfort in the wars"; + Another: "I have seen St. Bavon's tree"; + And some old palmer who hath seen all shrines + Shall tell of Subiaco and the thorns + Of good St. Benedict, my boy can say: + "I grew to manhood in the little town + Down in the valley. I have never been + Beyond the mountains, but each day have heard, + Morning and night, St. Giles' dewy bells + Ring from these towers the twilight hour of prayer, + Yet was I favored. When they christened me"-- + Oh, I can see them wonder at him then, + And press about him.--"When they christened me + St. Oswald stood god-father at the font + And blessed me with his hands upon my head, + Blessed me and said: 'The Virgin keep this child.' + A neighbor said his face shone like a star, + He was so full of glory. And the night, + The night the angels brought him from the gorge + And laid him here before the abbey gate, + He wore the holy hood my mother made. + They keep it yet inside the sacred chest, + There in the chapel." (_Faint shouts far to the left._) + I am so afraid + Jules will go with them. Would you mind if I-- + + (_The cottage door opens._) + + Have Rachel tell you of that awful dream. + + (_She goes out, left. With a staff in one hand and + screening her eyes with the other, old Rachel + comes sidling down the steps. Madam Valmy + sets her basket over the fence._) + + RACHEL--Clotilde? Marie? Oh, it's Fidele! Why, child, + When did you come to town? + + MADAM VALMY-- (_Taking Rachel by the hand._) + There's some one hurt. + + RACHEL--_Fidele!_ You frighten me. That horrid word! + Who is it? + + MADAM VALMY--The crowd. + + RACHEL-- Where? + + MADAM VALMY-- Down by the church. + + RACHEL--Those heathen dogs. Are they in town? I fear-- + + (_They go out, left._) + + + _SCENE FOUR--Before the church which stands about twenty + feet back from the street. Low stone fences on either side + project in to its corners and form with its front three + sides of a hexagon. To the right, in a higher fence, also + of stone, which runs parallel with the street, is an iron_ + _gate, overgrown with vines, leading into the churchyard._ + _Between the palings can be seen white crosses marking the + graves. In the corners, just where the fences start in_ + _toward the church, stand Lombardy poplars in full foliage,_ + _one on either side. The church is built of rough stone,_ + _with irregular seams of white mortar. In the center is_ + _an arched doorway and beside it two false windows almost_ + _covered with ivy. High up over the door is seen the lower + part of a narrow louvre window with several long straws, + which the birds have carried there, hanging down from + between the slats._ + + _In the open space before the church, a crowd is gathered._ + _Upon the steps with his back to the door stands Jardin,_ + _the Bailiff. He wears a sleeveless hauberk wrought of_ + _chain, and upon his head a heavy open helmet. Some_ + _distance to the right, upon a step lower down, Jacques + Sar, wearing a leather corselet and a cap of wolf skin, is + leaning with his right hand against the church. His right_ + _arm is off near the shoulder. The crowd is made up of men, + for the most part in their working clothes. Some have no + hats on. Among the latter is Hugh Capet, whose red head + is seen far in near the steps. Jules Bacqueur, with his + sleeves rolled up, stands on the edge of the crowd. Out in + the street to the left, is a group of women. A boy is up in + the poplar tree, right._ + + _As the Scene progresses, other villagers enter, among them_ + _the women of the last Scene._ + + JARDIN--Was Jardin right last week when comrade's wife + + (_With a motion toward old Jacques._) + + Fell palsied and he said: "Let's kill the witch; + Next thing she'll strike some brother." Was he right? + Was he? In here is a cross can tell you. + Is the cross done? Can any man say why? + The holy monk that carves it, where is he? + Up yonder on the mountain in his cell, + Nigh unto death. Only the Virgin's hands + That plucked him from the pit can save his life. + And who's to blame? Who is to blame, men? Eh? + You men that shout to sail out to the East + And swell about the neck as vipers do, + Blowing against the Moslems, what do you say + To the heathen on the mountain up there, eh? + Twenty moons and more have risen and set + Since they took up their station 'neath the stars + And, in collusion with the hag of hell, + Shook pestilence and death upon the air. + Planets have knocked and fire has fallen and blood + Has drizzled over all this region. Eh? + What do you think our Lord thinks of these things? + Rescue the mountains; they are His Sepulcher. + You want to see Golgotha? _There_ it is. + A mountain with a heretic on its peak + Is like a spear thrusting a bitter sop + Up to our Lord's lips even in heaven. You men + Who see the sop and leave it there are Jews. + + HUGH CAPET--They're Maccabees. + + JARDIN-- As for Jacques Sar and me, + We'll wear these arms-- + + JACQUES SAR-- Until the Judgment Day. + + JARDIN--Till our old bodies rot, or see those peaks + Waved over with the banner of our Lord. + And you think you will live to see that chase. + You know what I would do if I were God? + + (_He draws his sword._) + + Gabriel should pass over with his sword + And pierce some heart would bow all heads in tears. + Then you would go shouting up the mountains. And + If this keeps up, you mark me what I say, + Crosses will thicken out there on that grass. + + (_He points toward the churchyard. A man reaches + out of the crowd and touches him on the leg._) + + But eat and sleep, though. Feed your coward hearts. + Then die. And then what? Then the Judgment Day. + And after that, what? Hell. + + (_He stoops down and the man talks with him in an + undertone._) + + BACQUEUR-- Who is it's dead? + + JACQUES SAR--Dead? All of us, he says, an the hag lives. + + HUGH CAPET--He's right, too. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--(_Entering, right, and hurrying to the_ + _women._) + + Is it Father Benedict? + + JARDIN-- (_Straightening up._) + It was for that that he rode back there. Eh? + Tell them? What for? What good would that do? What + Do they care if the heathen keeps his land? + I see some of you here that yesterday + Was down at Bacqueur's. Do I? Do I see you? + Somehow it seems to me I recollect + Hearing as how old Hulga'd never strike + No man no more since God had saved the monk + And maybe threw her off the cliff herself. + Did any of you hear that? Did you men? + Eh? No one, eh? So Jardin must have dreamed. + Well, in the dream then Jardin seemed to say: + "The hag will strike till we have dragged her down, + Her and her dwarf, Canzler, the big heathen, + And all his kith, and burnt them in the street." + + A VOICE--You got him in the church, Jardin? + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- La, now! + + HUGH CAPET-- Down with him! + + JARDIN--Was Jardin right again? Has Hulga struck? + You'd see the ass he rode you'd think she'd struck. + Awhile ago here some one shouted out: + "Who's in the church?" I've got the arrow strung + And now I'll tell you, now I'll let it fly. + The wine train's lost; three of the mules are dead; + Two men were crushed to death; our Lord's dear blood, + Witches have poured out on the mountain rocks. + Now, has she struck? You think she has, eh? Hugh, + What did we tell them? Jacques Sar? Bacqueur? Eh? + Didn't we? + + BACQUEUR--How did it happen, Bailiff? + + JARDIN--Some one here asked if Canzler was in here. + No. Yes. What if he were or what if he is? + You think I'd tell you and see you fall dead? (_Madam_ + _Valmy enters, right, leading old Rachel by the hand._) + One of the muleteers rode in for help. + He only spoke Italian. A friar, though, + Told me his tale. Last night when the train reached + The Devil's Pass--'twas dark; the moon had sunk--Three + withered hell-hags, with the skirring clouds + Flying toward Pampeluna to their sabbath, + Lit on a gray crag. Lightning splintered blue + About them, smells of sulphur rose, and thunder + Clapped the dark rock. The mountain shook. Straightway, + Cries of the men rang out. The leaders crashed, + Dumb-smitted with horror, mules and packs and all, + Down through the chaparral to the gowle below. + The witches vanished. All the Pass was still + Save through the night the golden chalices + Clinking far down the scaur. Then on a sudden + + (_Rosa, excited, runs in, right, and hurries to the + women._) + + The grisly hags, crooning a wild song, rose + Tossing the golden cups up in the air, + And like a strip of mist went down the wind + Toward Pampeluna. What is the matter, women? + + A MAN--They say the hag's in town. + + ROSA--(_In an underbreath._) Sigurd. + + MADAM BACQUEUR-- The dwarf. + + THE MAN--They say the dwarf's in town. + + JARDIN--(_Deeply moved._) Men,--! + + THE BOY--(_Up in the tree craning his neck._) I see him! + Yonder he is by the bridge. He's got something + Shining in his hand. + + JARDIN---(_His face paling._) What was it the hunter saw + In his dream, men? What was it that roused the dogs-- + The heathen dogs to chase the brother? + + HUGH CAPET-- Blood. + + JARDIN-- (_Feeling the tip of his sword._) + To-day God stains the trail. + + A SHOUT-- Down with him! + + JARDIN-- Wait. + + THE BOY--See it! See it flash! It's a dagger! + + JARDIN-- Men! + + JACQUES SAR-- Men! + + A SHOUT--Come on, men! + + JARDIN-- Stop them, Bacqueur! Knock them down! + Bring those fools back. + + (_Hugh Capet, out in the street, waves with his + arm. The men who rushed out, right, return + sulky._) + + ONE OF THEM--Who is the coward now? + + ANOTHER--Hush, Noel. + + ANOTHER-- Let's have no trouble, men. + + JARDIN-- Silence! + + FIRST MAN--'Cause we ain't seen the wars-- + + SEVERAL-- Be quiet, Noel. + + JARDIN--Is that the way you fowlers take your birds, + Rush out and throw the net before their eyes? + Is it? And when the wolves prowl for your lambs, + You raise a shout before you stretch the string, + Do you? Here's Jacques. You think he'd have this cap + If he had yelled to the brute, "Watch for your skin," + And rushed on him waving a club? Do you? + Eh? If you do, I tell you Jardin don't; + 'N I reckon Jardin's seen a wolf or two. + This dwarf of Hulga's, you don't think he's sly, + Do you? Eh? Well, he is, sly as a newt. + You touch the stones once and you'll see him gone. + What's to be done, then? Listen to Jardin: + Deploy. You don't know what that means, do you? + Some of you here are burning for the East + To fight the Moslems. Just cry: "Allah-ho!" + And then rush on them, will you? Turks, ain't they? + + JACQUES SAR--Right. + + JARDIN-- Listen, men; I'll tell you what it means. + You've seen the falcon 'fore she strikes the hern + Open her talons, ain't you? That's deploy. + Well, then we'll open ours. Three of you fellows + Skirt the ford yonder and shut off retreat + To the cave. There's one claw open. Halt, men. + Then two detachments--Here, attention, men; + Wait for your orders.--Then two squads of three + March up that way-- (_He points left._) + and when you strike the hedge, + Right! left! one along the wold; the other + Down through the waddy; each to the river. + Then we've got him flanked. There's three claws open + And the bird is ours. Now listen. Listen men. + You men that mean to cut off his retreat, + Take spears. He'll squawk we pinch him, and the old hen, + Hearing her chick, will swoop down from the rocks. + Then's your chance; stick her. + + JACQUES SAR-- Mine! + + HUGH CAPET-- Let Jacques have her. + + JACQUES SAR--I'll fetch her head back home to mother Sar. + + (_He and the Bailiff come down into the crowd._) + + A VOICE--What if the heathen charge down on us? + + HUGH CAPET-- Bah! + + JARDIN--You think he'd leave that peak for all the world? + + HUGH CAPET--After what's happened? + + JACQUES SAR-- After this shower of blood? + + BACQUEUR--From that black planet came the thunder stone + That tore the field back there. + + HUGH CAPET-- You think he would? + + JARDIN--Now hear what Jardin says. If he could ask, + For what he suffered in the Holy Wars, + Two gifts of Heaven, and two strong saints should soar + Past the green steeples of these poplars here + And fold their white wings in that street and say: + "Soldier, what are they?" What would Jardin say? + First this: (_He steps back upon the steps._) + Up yonder is a holy monk + Whom God has blessed above all living men. + Abaddon hurled him down to take his life. + He's bruised almost to death. Saints, bring him down. + We're going to kindle such a fire here + As friends of darkness, glowering from the caves, + Shall see and then scoot shuddering to Hell. + + (_The crowd shouts._) + + Bring him down, then, and let him see the flames + Lick up the limbs that tripped him. + + JACQUES SAR-- Right. + + BACQUEUR-- You're right. + + HUGH CAPET--Let's bring him down! + + SHOUTS-- Right! Bring him! Bring him down! + + JARDIN--Here, men, put on those caps. You think you're saints? + If you can fly through air, why bring him down; + You can't, then hush and hear what Jardin says. + First then I'd say: "Bring down the monk." Then this: + There's a big fellow on the mountain tops + What calls Thor Father, spitting at our Lord. + And in the dawn when Christians gather here + To holy mass he stands upon the peaks + And scowls upon the bells. He and the witch + Are brain and bowels to some heathen god + Whose dark hand works at night beneath the hills + Sapping the towers of Christ. Saints, send him down. + Tell him to strap his big old martel on him. + He comes down here he'll feel a damaskin + That's sliced the Turks and choked the gates of hell + With ghosts of Allah, and another'll go + Bloody and hot to Thor. (_Shouts._) + Send him down, saints. + Some one here says, "If Canzler comes, what then?" + He'll die. Who'll do it? Listen: Jardin will. + + (_He comes down into the crowd that surges and + clamors about him._) + + Line up! (_He chooses nine men, whom he arranges in squads of three._) + + A MAN-- (_In the first squad._) + About those spears. + + JARDIN--Stop at the armory. + + (_He produces a great key._) + + You know your orders, do you? + + A CHORUS--We do. + + JARDIN--Jacques. + + LEAD. + + (_He hands the key to the old man, who puts + himself at the head of the first squad._) + + Bacqueur. + + MADAM BACQUEUR--No, no. + + JARDIN--Capet. + + (_The two men put themselves at the head of the + second and third squads._) + + JARDIN--March! + + MADAM BACQUEUR--(_Holding out her child._) Husband! + + (_They pass out, left. Madam Bacqueur looks after + them for a while, then lifts her skirt to her + eyes and sobs aloud._) + + RACHEL--Where are they going, child? + + JARDIN--Line up now, men. + We'll strike the front. Women, pray that the saints + May bring the monk to see this devil burn, + And send the old warlock down. He will breathe hard, + I slit his entrails once and put this foot + On his big chest. + + (_As he goes along lining up the men with his + sword, the church door opens and, pale and_ + _emaciated, the monk Oswald appears._) + + FIDELE--Clotilde! Auntie! Rosa! + + THE WOMEN--Look! Look! (_They fall upon their knees._) + + JARDIN--What is it, women! + + A MAN--Look! Look! + + (_The men cross themselves and fall prostrate. + Old Rachel and the Bailiff alone remain + standing._) + + RACHEL-- (_Screening her eyes._) + What is it, Rosa? + + FIDELE-- Auntie! auntie! + + (_She pulls old Rachel to her knees._) + + A BREATH--(_Through the crowd._) His ghost! + + OSWALD--What is the matter? + + (_Upon hearing his voice, old Rachel, who has + continued to stare toward the church, falls + with her face to the ground._) + + A MAN--(_In a low voice._) Jardin, speak. + + JARDIN-- Father. + + OSWALD--What is it? (_A pause._) What is the matter? + + JARDIN-- Is that you? + + OSWALD--What was that shouting? + + (_A silence ensues. The monk puts his palm to + his breast and coughs._) + + JARDIN--(_Completing his thought._)--these men aghast here + Calls up to Jardin's mind a night in the wars + When we were storming Acre. The Infidel, + Sallying out, had laid the Lion Heart + Low in the dust. The waves of battle clapped + Over his head. Barred in with dripping spears + Of Turk and Christian, raged the bleeding whelp, + His paws red-clotted in his own hot blood. + Cleaving the gloom, a burst of crimson light + Streamed down the slanting spears and like a prow + Rolled back the waves of war. Between the crests + Of foam-white faces holy St. Augustine + Came walking down the bodies of the dead, + And lifting the Lion, fired him. At once + Rose on the night the planet of his shield + Burning a lane before his falchion fed, + And down the slope into the Turks he swept + Through dropping shields and sabers thrown in air, + A lurid streak of flame. So Jardin now, + Seeing this blessed monk the saints have brought, + Takes fire, and blown with hate of our Lord's foes, + Will lick the crags and leap from peak to peak, + Nor shall the flame go out until the wind + Rain heathen ashes on the pit of hell. + + (_Roused by the Bailiff's words, four or five of + the men spring to their feet. The rest rise + slowly and remain mute. Oswald comes down the + steps._) + + JARDIN-- (_Knocking the men with his sword._) + Line, line up! (_A man points down the street._) + + ANOTHER-- We'll fix him, Father! + + ANOTHER--He'll never strike no holy monk again! + + ANOTHER--We'll burn the imp! + + ANOTHER-- Father shall see to it, too! + + (_The Bailiff strikes with his sword. The line + marches right, double-quick._) + + OSWALD-- (_Excitedly._) + + Stay, men! Lay no rough hands upon the boy. + + (_The line halts. The monk puts his palm to his + breast and coughs._) + + JARDIN--No rough hands on--? + + OSWALD-- The boy has done no harm. + The night I fell-- + + A MAN-- Here's Father Benedict. + + (_They wait in silence._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Ah, brother Oswald! + + (_He comes riding in, left. The women bow + reverently; the men bare their heads._) + + _Benedicite._ + You see my children gathered here about, + How glad they are to see you. + + OSWALD-- And I, Father, + To be at work once more. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Praise the Virgin. (_Dismounting._) + You show a Christian spirit coming thus, + Bruised as you are, to do the Master's work. + + OSWALD--I promised it should be done to-morrow. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- And--? + + OSWALD--I have two golden letters to put on. + + FATHER BENEDICT--God hath his eye upon our altar cross; + And on you, too, my brother. + + OSWALD-- God has been + Good to me. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The angels do His will. + + OSWALD--And even human hands-- + + (_He looks down the street._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- 'Twas marvelous. + As I came down I passed the jagged cliff + You tumbled over, and there a while I paused + Entranced, as it were, by unseen Presences. + + (_The boy, who climbed down from the tree upon the + arrival of the Priest, leads the ass out, + left._) + + The mountains wore a new and hallowed look + In the morning light. I would give half my life + To have stood upon the peaks that night and seen + God's ministers drop shining down the sky + And blaze the gorge. But God works in the dark. + At night His golden ladders are let down + And deeds are done and no man knoweth how. + At dawn we see the severed hills, the seas + Huddled aghast at some vast mountain head + That yesterday lay fathoms in the deep. + So quietly He worketh in the night + That mountain ranges rise and no babe wakes. + Who can say: "Yonder God is"? + + OSWALD-- None, Father. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- None. + The hand that executes His purposes + Is hidden like the purposes themselves. + He dwelleth in the storm and in the calm, + Yet both look round and say: "Where dwelleth He?" + The sun that shines on all, shines not on Him. + He goeth forth at night and doth His will, + Yet the moon sees Him not. I rode along + Thinking upon your providential + Escape from death that night and of the work + God hath reserved for me in the great chase, + For half the glory is mine. I prayed our Lord + That if it be His will I might catch some + Glimpse of the dogs far off. I could not see + My hand before my eyes in spirit, but + With eyelids down, rode on, probing the dark, + Sounding deep in my soul the ocean of God, + And finding there bottomless waters. + The night of ebony and the golden dawn, + The deed the past holds and the future's deed, + Rose half way up the sky and called across + Fathomless spaces: "Who are you?" And I + Thought answer: "Thou art Fall; and thou, with hair + Bright with the morning and with frightened eyes + Fleeing the noise of dogs behind thee, thou + Art Resurrection and the Peace of God." + Connection I could find none. Stark and lone + They stood upon the twilight fields of air, + Strangers, each looking in the face of each, + When through the gloaming came a glittering link + Star-like with the image of our Lord + Bleeding in silver on a silver cross, + A marriage ring that married them, and I + Deep in my soul knew the Eternal and + Saw Prophesy grappling the North and heard + Heathendom hiss and coil and loose her folds; + And then a voice filling the heavens: "Well done." + Speaking to me, for the glory is mine. + Your crucifix has not been found yet? + + OSWALD-- No. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And will not be. + + OSWALD-- It must be in the brook. + I had it in my hand just as I fell. + + FATHER BENEDICT--'Tis in the hand of God where it shall be + Until the morning breaks of that great day + When Heathendom shall tumble down to hell. + Then it shall dangle bloody from the sky + While all the mountains shake. + + OSWALD-- What do you mean? + + FATHER BENEDICT--The mountains trembled in the tempest. + + OSWALD-- When? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + During the great chase. (_A pause._) Is it possible + You start upon the chase with darkened eyes? + + OSWALD--I do not understand you. + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Aside._) Can it be + They have not told him of the dream? Mum, then. + + OSWALD--Brother Andrew told me. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- And you understand + On whom this dark calamity shall fall? + + OSWALD--It has already fallen. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Already fallen! + You think the stag is down, then, do you? + + OSWALD-- Stag? + + FATHER BENEDICT--You think the chase is run? + (_Oswald looks at him blankly._) You seem to think + The dream has been fulfilled. + + OSWALD-- I do. How not? + This last calamity fulfilled the dream. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Fulfilled? Nay, nay. The chase has not begun. + The bruised stag is resting in the grove. + The hounds of Hell have yet to strike the trail, + And when they do, my feet are on the hills, + And the loud talbot's baying shall be still. + + OSWALD--You speak as one whose joy is in the chase. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Glaring at him._) + You mean by that that I-- + + OSWALD-- I mean, Father, + You speak as those that chase the deer with hounds-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--You mean to intimate that I lead the dogs? + + OSWALD--As hunters do. (_The Priest searches the monk's_ + _face._) You spoke of a stag and a trail. + + FATHER BENEDICT--To show you that the dream is not fulfilled. + + OSWALD--Have you not heard it, then? The train is lost. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The-- + + OSWALD-- Thrown from the cliffs. + + A MAN-- The witches did it. + + ANOTHER--Blue devil-fire sputtered on the crags and sulphur-- + + ANOTHER--Two men were struck by the hags. + + ANOTHER-- The wine, too, Father, + They've poured it all out on the mountain rocks. + + ANOTHER--Old Hulga did it. + + SEVERAL-- And the dwarf. + + THE CROWD-- The dwarf, too. + + OSWALD-- (_With a nod toward the church._) + One of the men who rode in town for help + Is with the clerk. (_The Priest starts toward the church._) + + JARDIN--(_Stepping forward._) Can Jardin say a word? + One night at Acre when the camps were sick, + And smells of corpses tainted every breath, + Jardin was pacing watch. Through the darkness, + Pierced by the burial torches of the Turks, + A smoke-thin shadow passed across the plain + Between the armies, blotting one by one + The drifting death-fires of old Saladin. + Nearer it came, and Jardin heard a moan, + And walking toward it found a Turkish lad + Half eaten by hunger, in a fever trance + Low-moaning piteously: "Dates, mother, dates." + Did Jardin say, Because the Turk's a boy + I'll spare him? Did Jardin give him dates? No. + He'd made a vow never to spare no foe + Of Mary's Son, so, like a starving hound, + This Christian blade, drinking his little blood, + Licked up the crumbs that Famine's jaws had left. + Did Jardin right? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Our Paternoster says: + "Thy kingdom come." How could the kingdom come + If heathens were allowed to-- + + JARDIN-- If the young Turk, + Instead of wobbling in a fever trance + As weak as smoke a breath could blow away, + Jardin had found astride a Christian corpse + Holding his red dirk up against the moon + For Allah's eyes and laughing at the blood, + Had Jardin spared him then--? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Then the red dirk + Had hovered over your gray hairs like a hawk + Until your day of death, and when your soul, + Fresh from the holy lustral dews, had sprung + Singing toward Mary's bosom in the sky, + That red-plumed vulture swooping through the dark + Had chased it down to Hell. + + JARDIN-- Line up, men. + + OSWALD-- Stay! + You know not what you do. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What does this mean? + + JARDIN--It means that Jardin is a soldier still, + Still fighting as a servant of the Cross, + And never, while this arm can lift a sword, + Will this sword ever spare a scoffing imp + To invocate the devils of the air, + And pointing to the gouts of holy blood + Upon the mountain rocks, say: "Aha, see! + The Master's slave bleeds as the Master bled." + + (_Pointing with his sword down the street._) + + The son of Satan. + + A MAN-- It's the dwarf, Father. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Solemnly._) + God lifts the curtain and the Play is on, + Whose last act shall unfold above the clouds + With Tempest and with Earthquake that shall shake + Hell to the very bottom. Seize him. + + OSWALD--(_Excitedly._) No! + No, no! The boy has done no-- (_Coughing._) + + JARDIN-- Come on, men! + Shall bloody daggers drip on our gray hairs, + And chase us through the deep? Shall they? Come on! + + (_The line swings off._) + + Never will Jardin patch a truce with Hell + Until her towers, stormed by angels' wings, + Shall bow like Acre to the Son of God. + + OSWALD--Stop them, Father! Until I tell you! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Overcome with rage._) This, + This is the worst I ever did hear. (_Looking about him while_ + _Oswald coughs with great distress._) Men,-- + + (_Seeing that all the men have gone, he shouts + after them._) + + Pile your wood here, men! We shall have sacrifice! + + (_He goes toward the church._) + + OSWALD-- (_Frantically._) + Father! Father! (_He falls upon his knees._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--A burnt offering. (_Oswald rises quickly, + his face full of horror, and flees in the direction of the + Abbey, coughing violently._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_From the steps, calling after him bitterly._) + If Benedict, whose "joy is in the chase," + Shall "chase the deer with hounds as hunters do," + Perhaps this devil that goes up in smoke + Will drop somewhere upon the mountain paths + And pluck your haunches from the talbot's teeth. + Pray God he may, when Benedict turns hound. + + (_He enters the church and closes the door._) + + + _SCENE FIVE--The same street, projected to the outskirts of + the village. On the right, is a wagon bridge built of logs. + Some slabs, left over from the building of the bridge + years ago, lie in a pile at the roadside. Farther back, + across the river the course of which is marked by a line of + sycamores, the mountain rises abrupt and green, with here + and there patches of bare rocks and trees thickening as it + extends back and up. Away to the center and left, a stretch + of bottom land with cultivated fields. One gets a nearer + view of the snow-capped peaks seen from the mountain side + in the first Scene and from the courtyard of the abbey in + the second. In the foreground at the roadside, is a large + olive tree with its dark shadow lying directly beneath it, + for over the landscape is a clear light as of a noonday sun + shining from a cloudless sky._ + + _Under the tree, with several willow baskets strung together_ + _lying upon the ground beside him, sits the dwarf, Sigurd,_ + _polishing Oswald's silver crucifix upon his knee. He holds + it out in a bit of sunshine that falls through the leaves + and, after flashing the light about, resumes rubbing it + upon his trousers._ + + JARDIN-- (_Left, shouting as to men far off._) + Close in, men! Close in! + + (_The dwarf rises to his knees and looks in the + direction of the town. Then, hiding the + crucifix in his bosom, he comes out in the + road and looks in the opposite direction as + though trying to discover who it is they are + after. Stones strike in the road and go + clattering across the bridge. A moment later + Jardin and his men come rushing in._) + + ONE OF THE MEN--(_With his hands to his mouth, shouting_ + _across the river._) We've got him! + + ANOTHER-- Fellows! + + (_He makes for the pile of slabs. Several of the + men follow him._) + + ANOTHER--We can get shavings up at Bacqueur's shop. + + (_They load themselves with slabs. Jardin, who with + the dwarf is in the center of the crowd, + suddenly holds aloft the silver crucifix._) + + JARDIN--You know who threw him down now, don't you, eh? + + A CRY OF RAGE--Devil! + + JARDIN--Don't knock him, men. This is God's work. + + CRIES--Down with him! Burn him! + + JARDIN-- Fetch your slabs, men. + + CRIES-- Come on! (_They start toward the village._) + + SHOUTS-- (_From over the river._) + Look out! Look out! + + (_The men carrying slabs glance back, then throw + their loads down and go fleeing toward the + village._) + + CRIES-- Men! Men! + + (_The crowd flees, leaving Jardin holding the dwarf + by the collar standing in the road._) + + A VOICE--(_From across the bridge._) Let go that boy. + + JARDIN--This is a day of miracles. (_Canzler enters._) + Heathen, + Between us is a grave. (_He lays his hand upon his sword._) + + CANZLER-- Let go that boy. + + JARDIN-- (_Advancing to meet him._) + With Christ in one hand, and in the other this. + + (_Canzler draws his sword, and a duel ensues. The + Bailiff, protected by his armor which Canzler + has twice struck and failed to pierce, lays + his blows on as though he would end it all at + once. Canzler deliberately draws back into + the shade of the tree. Lunging madly, Jardin_ + _follows him. The villagers reappear with + stones in their hands, and try to get where + they will not hit Jardin when they throw._) + + CRIES--Run him through, Bailiff! Run him through! + + JARDIN--(_With a lunge._) There! + + A CRY-- Ha! + + (_Canzler has parried the thrust, and his sword has + passed through the chain hauberk deep into + the Bailiff's breast. The latter staggers + back, his astonishment that steel armor + should be pierced by mortal sword giving way_ + _to a look of chagrin, and after endeavoring to + steady himself with the blade of his sword, + falls flat, his armor clanking on the road. + The villagers drop their stones and flee + terror-stricken. Canzler stands for a moment,_ + _wipes the perspiration from his brow, then + reaches down and takes up the Bailiff's sword + by the point._) + + CANZLER-- + + (_Swinging it around his head and hurling it toward + the village._) + + You men in steel! + + (_He goes back under the tree and gets the baskets + and comes out into the road. The dwarf stoops + to pick up the crucifix that lies in the dirt + about a yard from the Bailiff's hand._) + + Canzler-- Nay, let it lie, my boy. + + (_He takes the boy by the hand and they return + across the bridge. The Bailiff stirs, lifts + himself to his elbow, and stretches his hand + toward the crucifix. He cannot reach it and + falls back and lies still._) + + + + +ACT FOUR. + + + _SCENE ONE--In the cavern, as in Scene two of the second act. + The spinning wheel stands against the wall and above it + from a peg hangs a heavy skein of black wool. The baskets + lie upon the floor. To the right of the low fire, a heap + of chips, pine cones, and broken limbs. The cave is quite + dark._ + + _From the left the gnomes enter stealthily, one after another._ + + _TIME--The same night._ + + KILO--(_Huskily._) Gone. + + ZIP--(_Calling back._) Gone. + + VOICE--(_To the left._) She's gone. + + (_Gimel enters and, after him, Suk. Kilo crosses + the cave and stands listening._) + + ZIP--(_Stopping._) What is it? + + (_Gimel puts out his hand, palm back, warningly. + Suk stops. Suddenly, to the left, a sound of + whistling is heard._) + + SUK-- (_Huskily, to silence him._) Zory! (_The whistling stops._) + + KILO-- (_Turning back._) + It's a frog booming on the river bank. + + GIMEL--The villagers should hear it they would squeal: + "Ave! Ave!" and hurry to the church + And take their pennies to the Priest. Curse them! + + (_While the rest snoop about the cave in search + of food, Kilo puts some kindling upon the + fire, and getting down upon his knees, blows + it into a flame. He then stretches himself + out upon the floor, and proping his head upon_ + _his elbow, begins to poke in the ashes with a + stick._) + + KILO--Gimel, you're mad because your monk's alive. + + (_Zip goes out right on tiptoe._) + + SUK--I wonder if Granny knows we killed the bat? + + GIMEL--I haven't had a bite since. + + SUK-- Yesterday + I found a cricket down among the stones + Still numb with winter's cold. + + GIMEL--(_Fearfully._) What is it, Zip? + + KILO-- (_Nonchalantly._) + Gimel, if the monk was sleeping there + On Granny's couch and you had Loki's sledge, + Think you could kill him? + + SUK-- Sh! + + (_Kilo sits up._) + + GIMEL-- Zip, what is it? + + ZIP-- (_Re-entering._) + It's going to storm. The clouds are scudding fast + And thick and dark, brushing the mountain tops. + + SUK--She gets the owl, she'll be here. + + (_Kilo lies down. The other gnomes, as if fearing + the entrance of the witch, walk, left._) + + SUK-- Better get up. + + ZIP--She'll flog you, Kilo, if she finds you there. + + KILO--I'll play I'm Sigurd. + + ZIP-- Then she'll drub you sure. + You see these baskets here? To-night at dusk + The boy crept tiptoe to the entrance there + And threw them in. I holloed at him: "Hey! + You'd better run! Granny's been looking for you." + + (_Kilo rakes a coal from the fire and blows the + ashes from it._) + + KILO--You say the wind's up, Zip? + + ZIP-- It's going to storm. + + SUK-- (_Looking among the dry herbs._) + There's not a leaf of Odin's helmet here. + + KILO--Gimel! (_He blows the coal._) + + GIMEL-- (_To Suk._) + She's taken it with her. She knew + If we should get out in the air-- + + KILO-- Come here. + + GIMEL--She'd never see us in this cave again. + + VOICE-- (_To the left, in a monotone._) + A rat and a cat and a cat and a mouse. + + SUK--I wonder when she's going to make us broth. + + GIMEL--She said we'd be as thin as chestnut leaves + Before she put the cauldron on again. + + SUK--How can we toil when fire won't burn, + When Loki's hammers are soft as lead, + When her charms all fail wherever we turn, + When blight won't gather and murrain won't spread? + How can we toil when there's not a Nix + But turns to stone at a crucifix? + + (_From the left, Zory enters._) + + ZIP--What are you chewing, Zory? + + ZORY-- Slippery elm. + + GIMEL--She's scared herself at the pesky thing. + Often as here by the coals she's sat + Crunching her pignuts and stroking her cat, + Many a time I've heard her say + That Thor's arm shriveled that April day + When out of a cloud in a thunder shower + He threw his bolt at the tall gray tower. + It shivered a poplar tree near by. + The church stood sound with its cursed crest, + While the god went bellowing down the sky, + Clutching his shoulder in terrible pain. + Now he rides to the east and he rides to the west--So + Granny says--and he's never seen + Lashing his goats through the driving rain. + Dark and fireless the clouds drift round; + Their waters fall without any sound. + It's Hoder that drives them now, I ween. + + ZORY-- (_Leaving the herbs._) + She'd left a slip of the Devil's herb, + + (_Skipping to the right._) + + You'd see me sweeping along the sky; + I'd straddle the moon and ride her down. + + ZIP--Be quiet, Zory.--You'd better not. You hear? + + (_Zory goes out._) + + SUK--The fairies too are bolder now. + Every hour you can hear them call + From forest and bracken and water-fall. + Even at midday, when I've been clearing + Ore from the mountains and stood a peering + Through cracks in the cliff, I have seen them at play + Catching the drops of silvery spray, + Running with emeralds and amethysts + To the stones where the purple iris rests. + With hands to their mouths, from the mossy ledge, + They boom to the bittern far down in the sedge + On the river bank. They are in the air. + Woodland and water--everywhere. + + GIMEL--And there's not a place even down in the ground, + No matter how dark, but that elves are found + Whispering and prying, their little eyes + Darting and glancing like fireflies. + + SUK--They say that's the cause of Loki's fright. + + ZIP--And well it might be, if this tale is true. + Sleeping he lay on the ground one night-- + He had guzzled his fill of Granny's brew-- + When, thinking he heard his bellows blow, + He opened his eyes and spied the glow + Of flames on his forge, the sparks a leaping, + And a score of elves---they thought him sleeping-- + On trough and anvil and on the ground + Clapping their hands as they fell around. + Then he stirred, when lo! there was not a spark; + The bellows was still, the stithy was dark. + + KILO-- (_Rising quickly to a sitting posture._) + The tale is as true as the master's steel. + Here on the stones I lay that night, + Curled like a cat in the fire-light, + While there by the wall with a whirring sound + Granny's old spinning wheel went round. + It whirred and it whirred so I could not sleep, + So I lay and yawned and began to peep + And nudge the fire, for the night was cool. + Around the big wheel the wether's wool + Ran black, the dame's foot under her skirt + Paddling the pedal for Sigurd's shirt. + The wheel stopped a moment, and during the hush + I had dropped to a doze, when there came a rush + Of the coldest air that ever warped skin, + And Loki, frightened, dashed up and in + From the rift in the rocks. (_He rises to one knee._) + His face was white + And the smut upon it showed black as night + And his limbs were so weak that he almost fell. + When he got his breath he began to tell + How, roused from his sleep by a noise in his shop-- + Then Granny spied me and nudged him to stop, + And the two went out. I leaped to the ledge + And peered through the crack. Far up on the edge + Of the cliff where the hazel bushes grow, + The pines were glossing; the gnomes, I trow, + Were choking the caves to get in the ground + And hide in the dark lest they should be found + When Balder should roll his bright wheel on high. + Already his lances waved in the sky + Bedabbled with blood. The heavens were pale + And the peaks were bright with his burning mail. + I lost not a trice. As quick as a wink + I rushed to the roots and out through the chink + With the Devil's herb I followed the pair. + Darting invisible through the air, + I squatted toad-like on the turf and heard + Them babble their plans, heard every word, + Heard Granny wheeze and the master say--As + they rose from the rock and turned away--"We + must nag on the gnomes or the cross will rise. + They must take the monk's life or put out his--" + + ZORY--(_Rushing in._) Look out! + + (_He dashes out, left, followed by the other + gnomes. From the right, the witch enters. In + her right hand she holds a big black owl by + the wing; in her left, a large club. She is + tall, raw-boned, and weasened. Her hair is of + a stringy gray, and a skein of it hangs upon + her cheek. Her breath comes short, and there + is a wheeze in her voice._) + + WITCH--What's this? Burning my wood? (_Shouting._) + Sigurd! Ay, ay! + You'd better hide, you lazy, crooked dwarf. + You'll pay for this. + + (_She throws the owl down, and taking the sticks + from the fire, beats the flames out upon the + floor._) + + You'll pay for this, I say. + You'll gladly sleep upon the coldest stones, + But you'll not close an eye. You'll moan all night, + Dragging your red-puffed soles across the floor, + And beg the gnomes for snow. I'll teach you how + To burn my kindling up. Here I must trudge + Up to the blasted cliffs day after day, + Strip bark, drag brush, break limbs, and gather cones + Among the pines, the bait of all the winds, + And barely get enough to heat my brew, + And here you'll lie roasting your wretched bones. + I'll warm your cursed shanks. I'll put your feet + To blister on the red-hot coals again + And flog you limping up the rocks for wood. + + (_Hanging up the baskets._) + + Let the monks take the geese. They're out there now + Flapping their wings and gaggling at the moon + To call the Christians down. You'll keep their necks! + You'll swear by father Thor you fetched them up + And penned them in the lot. I'll beat you, though; + I'll whale you with these rods until you're sore. + + (_She piles her wood against the wall._) + + Let the monks steal the geese. You'll gather wood. + You'll find it scarce, I vow. There's not a day + You're by the stream. You're up among the crags, + Beating the eagles from the new-dropped kids. + You feed the woodman's ewes. You hunt the hills + For sorrel-grass to see the lambkins eat. + You never drain an udder for my sop, + Or bring me honey from the gum. Sneezeweed + You never dig or nightshade from the marsh. + You play among the logs. My nuts and corn + You steal to feed the striped chipmunks with. + All day you're in the wood or on the slope, + Listening to hear the noisy Christian bells. + You love the damned sound. You love the monks. + You fetch them pine knots from the big green ridge + To singe the gnomes and light their altar fires. + You've learned to fumble buckeyes on your breast. + I'll teach you how to pray. Ay, ay! You hear? + I'll weave my dwarf a cowl. Ha, ha! You hear? + Sigurd! I'll get you in the morning. + + (_A rumble of thunder._) + + Eh? + + (_Thunder again._) + + Ay, ay, Thor! I'll have them there! + + (_Shouting._) + + Gnomes! Gnomes! + Zip! Gimel! Kilo! Lazy broth-suckers! + Here's work for you, you knaves! + Work and broth! + (_Louder._) Broth, I said! You hear? + Zory, you scamp! + + (_Feeling about her dress._) + + Hear what I say? + Kilo! Suk! Gimel! Here's broth for you! + + (_In an underbreath._) + + If you'll work. + You don't, I'll lamn you, you toads. + + (_Shouting._) + + You hear? + Ay, peak about! peak about! + Thor wants you. + + (_The gnomes enter timidly, half-afraid._) + + SUK-- (_Whimpering._) + I'm hungry. + + WITCH--Hungry! + Out in the air with you, then! + Suck the lightning's dugs! Guzzle in the rain! + + (_Low muttering thunder._) + + Hear that? Can you? Can you bark? + Ay, ay, Thor! + + (_As the thunder dies away, the gnomes rush wildly + toward the witch._) + + Ay, here's your herb! + Out with you now, every last one of you! + + ZIP-- (_Giving him a leaf._) + Up with you! (_Zip disappears._) + Kilo! There you go! + + (_Kilo disappears._) + + Now Suk! Now Gimel! Now you can get him! + + (_The gnomes, taking the slips, disappear._) + + Ay, ay! Chase the monk! Crack the big bells! + Pluck up the pines and knock the steeples down! + + ZORY-- (_Rushing in._) + Me too, Granny! + + WITCH--Ay, you scamp! (_Giving him a leaf._) + Bark now! + Skedaddle in the air! + + ZORY--I'll straddle the moon and-- + + (_He disappears._) + + WITCH-- There you go! + Ay, straddle her! Ride her through the clouds! + There they are, Thor. + Now for my dwarf. (_Picking up her club._) + I'll bruise him a little. (_Shouting._) + Sigurd! + I'll get you. (_She goes out, left._) + + + _SCENE TWO--The scriptorium in the dormitory of the abbey._ + _The walls are of stone. In the left wall, near the_ + _corner, a door opens into a hall that leads thence to the_ + _courtyard. Near it, forward, an enormous chest with metal + trimmings and handles of embossed stags' heads, the antlers + gradually disappearing into the panel. Upon the chest, as + though thrown there carelessly, lies a heavy cloak. About + ten feet from the door, against the rear wall, stands a + small priedieu covered with a rich altar-cloth interwoven + with the figure--seen in old arras--of St. Giles sitting + upon a rock with the deer resting its head in his lap. + Behind the deer is a clump of brambles. The kneeling piece, + which projects from under the folds of the altar-cloth, + is of dark wood highly polished. Upon it is a scarlet + cushion. A little above the priedieu, in a semicircular + niche in the wall, is set a bronze crucifix some ten inches + in height. Before it burns a small taper. Farther to the + right, a second door leading into a corridor which connects + with the sleeping apartments. Between this door and the + priedieu are shelves filled with books and old manuscripts. + Beyond the door, which swings in and is partly open, an + old buckler hangs upon the wall, and beneath it, upon two + iron spikes, a long spear. Between the spear and buckler + is fixed a parchment cut mitriform and bearing in large + illumined letters the inscriptions_ HUGH DE BUILLON CUM DEO + ET CUM GODEFRIDO NICAEIS ANTIOCHIIS HIEROSOLYMIS MIL NONAG + SEPT OCT NOV. _Farther to the right, in the corner, a + Saracen coat-of-mail filled with spears which, converging + center and spread out above and below, look like a sheaf + of steel. Across the breast of the coat-of-mail is a strip + of parchment with the inscription illumined as before_: A + MOHAMED FILIO SATAN CHRISTO FILIO DEI. _In the right wall are + apertures of two deep-set windows, near which are three + carrels, each with an old manuscript spread out upon it + and ink-pots and other copying and illuminating materials. + Hanging beside them are finger rags smeared with various + colored stains. On one of the carrels lies a sprig of + flowering mountain laurel. Near the center of the room, a + few feet to the right, stands a long table running parallel + with the side walls. It is overstrewn with old manuscripts, + some of them discolored and half unrolled; others, near + the forward end, piled in the form of a miniature pyramid. + Farther back, a small brass lamp, pitcher-shaped and with a + wick protruding from its spout, burns with a yellow flame. + The room is but dimly lighted, as a large room would be, + with a single lamp burning upon the table and a little + taper winking in the niche in the wall._ + + _To the right of the table, in a square, high-backed chair + with animal-feet, sits the Abbot in a black gown, + bareheaded. His feet, which are under the table, are cased + in slippers of sheep-skin with the white fleece still upon + it. From his right hand, which hangs beside his chair, a + scroll of parchment trails upon the floor. Farther back, + upon the opposite side of the table, stands the Priest, his + left hand resting upon the back of a chair the front legs + of which are raised a few inches from the floor. At the + further end of the table Oswald is standing with his finger + wiping away the tears that trinkle down his cheeks._ + + _Thunder is heard intermittently, and from time to time the_ + _windows are shaken by the violence of the wind._ + + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_White with wrath, turning to the Abbot._) + Endorse this, Father? + + OSWALD-- Father, I did not say it. + + ABBOT--_Ira_, Benedict, _altis urbibus_ + _Causa cur perirent_. Let him explain. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I say, do you endorse this? + + OSWALD-- I did not say it. + + ABBOT--I endorse nothing till I hear both sides. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I gave you both sides. + + ABBOT-- Sit down, Benedict. + + FATHER BENEDICT--You think I'd sit down with these things + spread here, (_With a wave toward the manuscripts._) + And Christ thrust yonder in the little niche? + Not while I have in mind the first Psalm. + + ABBOT-- Yet + You seem to have forgotten what #agapaô# means, + As found in that third chapter of St. John. + + (_He lays his parchment upon the table and reaches + over and takes a book from the pile at his + right._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Not while I have in mind the first Psalm. + + ABBOT-- (_Turning over the leaves of the book._) + If + You thought more of the Gospels-- + + FATHER BENEDICT---(_Sarcastically._) As heathens do. + + ABBOT--What is it to be a heathen? Is it not + To act unchristlike? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What is it to be a dog? + + OSWALD--I did not say that Father was a-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What! + Just now you did confess-- + + OSWALD-- I said you spoke-- + _Spoke_ as hunters-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--_That's a lie!_ + + ABBOT-- Benedict! + Be circumspect, lest in your anger you + Bay at him and turn that which you do scorn. + + FATHER BENEDICT--I scorn the imputation which his pride + Popped at me. As though all the saints in heaven + Bowed down to him because the other night-- + + (_Turning away._) + + Oh, but God hates the proud man! + + ABBOT-- And, therefore, + Wisdom doth bid you keep an open ear + And leave the scroll of judgment still unsealed. + For how shall Mercy find the iron leaf? + Will Heaven's book be open if we close + Ours? When men cry to us, if we shut our ears, + We shut out Heaven's whispers. Oh, nothing--Of + all the deeds men do that vex the sky--Nothing + so rankles in the heart of God + As to see lips, fresh come from prayer for grace, + Refusing justice. + + (_The Priest has walked forward at an angle from + the table and stands with his back to the + Abbot. Reaching under his gown, he draws a + dark string across his breast and begins, + seemingly, to untie a knot. The Abbot regards_ + _him in silence._) + + Will you hear him? + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Gruffly._) Go on. + + ABBOT--No, Benedict; do it dispassionately. + You say God hates the proud. So he does. Yet + Wrath is more perilous to a man than pride. + For while pride turns a man's face to the sky, + 'Tis wrath that shoves him where the thunders fall. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Under his breath._) + I'll drop some thunder on you. + + ABBOT-- Now, my son, + Speak as though angels heard you. 'Tis almost + Midnight, and the Sabbath draweth nigh. + + OSWALD-- (_To the Priest._) + Father. + + ABBOT--Do you hear?--He shuts his ears. Proceed. + Remembering that truth is God's own bread. + He hungers for it. + + OSWALD-- Oh, I have not lied! + I did not say that Father was a dog. + + ABBOT--I know you have not, Oswald. The three years + That you have been here never have been stained + With pride and falsehood. Those that now malign, + God knows where they shall go when the end comes. + + OSWALD--I will explain just how it came about. + Then, if you think I have done Father wrong, + Tell me and let me do penance for it. I-- + I will not be here long. + + ABBOT-- My son! + + OSWALD-- I feel + The darkness gathering round me. + + ABBOT-- Don't say that. + You will be well again. You will be strong + Some day, my son, and many years shall pass + Ere the Lord calls you. Hath he not given proof? + A shepherd to you, surely God hath been. + Three nights ago at this time, where were you? + Lying down in the gorge, and the night wind + Passed and you knew it not. But God watched there, + And sent his servant--for all things serve Him--And + here you are safe in the fold again. + That deed unclasped a volume of bright days. + God doth not put his hand forth and lift up + As he hath lifted you, and then cast down + Ere the knees be straightened. Your tears should fall + For joy, my son, not sorrow. Think how near + Your foot was to the gates of darkness when + God turned your face around and there flashed out + A jeweled finger pointing toward a dawn--Far + off it may be or it may be near--When + the last shred of darkness shall vanish. + Let those that hound you, fear, for God shall cleave + A chasm in the earth for them; but you--No, + no, my son, not darkness, light. God's light + And glory from the new Jerusalem + Will shine upon you on the mountain tops, + If dreams are tapers lighting what is to be, + As some believe they are. + + (_The Priest reaches under his gown and takes + something in his right hand, and with the + other draws the string from around his neck + and drops it into his right hand, after which + he pulls the sleeve down over it till only the_ + _knuckles are visible._) + + Therefore, my son, + Lift up your face and let white words go forth + And usher in the Sabbath. Truth in the heart + Is fire under water, but on the lips + It lighteth every man the Way of Life. + + (_The Priest goes toward the chest near the door._) + + Benedict, will you do as Pilate did? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Is he the Lord? + + ABBOT-- He is-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Then who are you? + + ABBOT--He is a child of our Lord's. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- So am I. + + ABBOT--So you are, Benedict, a full grown child. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Even if I don't pray here + + (_With a disdainful motion toward the priedieu._) + + ABBOT-- A full grown child; + Large enough, one would think, to have slain the wolf + Of hate in you. + + (_The Priest takes up the cloak from the chest and + begins to put it on._) + + Is it the truth you fear? (_A pause._) + You dare to go out under the open sky + With hatred in your heart, a night like this? (_A pause._) + If you go now I know the reason why. + You fear to lay your heart down here and let + The light shine on it with Oswald's, side by side. + + OSWALD-- (_To the Abbot._) + Father-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Over his shoulder._) + Call a dog Father? + + ABBOT-- Benedict, + Exasperating beyond word in this + Conduct of yours. You come up here as one + Whose honor has been wounded, and you throw + Your charge down and when Oswald takes it up + To answer it, you will not hear him, but + You slink away. A travesty on man + Is he who has but one ear, and that filled + With his own voice. (_Rising._) + But I will settle this. + + (_Lifting his hand._) + + My son, I now absolve you from all-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Turning quickly._) + Hold! + + (_He pulls his cloak around so as to hide his right + hand, then comes forward._) + + Your haste to wash his heart is evidence-- + + ABBOT--You tacitly admit your charge is false + By the eagerness-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--What are you talking of? + + ABBOT--Your eagerness to get out in the dark. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Who said that I was going? + + (_To Oswald._) + + Now then, you + Lay your heart down under the lamplight here, + And I will show a hunch-backed devil in it. + + ABBOT--Tell us, my son, just how it came about. + Let truth spring out upon the table armed. + + (_He resumes his seat._) + + OSWALD--When Father spoke this morning of a chase, + A stag pursued by hounds and things like that, + I simply said that-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--"_Simply_ said!" + + OSWALD-- I said-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--I was one of the hounds, the talbot hound + That led the pack. + + OSWALD-- Why, Father! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Advancing toward him._) + You say that + A second time, and by the-- + + ABBOT-- Benedict! + Sprinkled with eyes, a wheel of God's own car + Attends our brother. You would best beware. + You know God hath him circled round about + With that that shall uproot the steadfast hills. + + (_Through the door, rear. Louis enters, carrying + a flagon and a silver cup, his face showing + terror. Seeing the Priest, he stops suddenly + as though amazed, then enters slowly._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--I care not were he nine times circled + round, + As Hell is, I would-- + + ABBOT-- (_Lifting his hand._) + Let me finish. Then, + If with eyes open you will venture on, + Do it. The night is wild. Heaven hath shaken down + Many a pine upon the mountain tops, + And steeples too, no doubt, and towns, who knows? + No man can tell what dawn shall look on. Even + This house of God--Hark how the thunders break! + The winds are playing havoc with the world + And Order frightened hath plunged into the sea. + + LOUIS--The southern gable has been blown down. + + ABBOT--(_After a look of surprise._) And + Thrice in the mossed chapel tower the bell + Hath rung, and no hand touched it; as it were + A tocsin to alarm the world that Hell + Hath landed. Though the seas be blown away + And the everlasting hills be tumbled down, + In summer calmness still the soul of man + Stands like a fortress, sure against assault + And terrible as a gorgon's head to Hell, + And adamant to all her engines. But + Let wrath break out inside, and crash! the gates + Are down. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Tapping himself upon his breast._) + And Hell comes in. + + ABBOT-- And Hell goes in + And ravins there. + + FATHER BENEDICT--In me. + + ABBOT-- The lightning hath + No power to strike a tree while the blue sky + Bends over it. But let the wrath of Hell + Build up a cloud and fire it, and the tree + Falls shattered. But God calls the cloud away + And His winds blow it into nothingness. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The tree is--? + + ABBOT-- Oswald there. He stands secure. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And the cloud--? + + ABBOT-- You. You blacken over him + And, charged with passion, make an atmosphere + Of sulphur and in it, as in native air, + Hell slips her flame and the trunk tumbles down + To darkness. But God calls the cloud away + To judgment, and its shadow is seen no more. + If you will venture further in your wrath, + Do it, for I have done. (_A pause._) Very well, then. + You may resume, my-- + + OSWALD-- I will undergo + Whatever ordeal Father may suggest; + Will walk hot irons or put my hand in fire + Or anything. + + ABBOT-- You hear that, Benedict? + + FATHER BENEDICT--He knows the Pope has banned the ordeal. + + (_To Oswald with scorn._) + + Brave! + + OSWALD--I call the saints-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_To Louis._) + Do I look like a hound? + + OSWALD--I said you _spoke_ as those that hunt-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- By that + Meaning that I should tarre them on him. + + OSWALD--(_With a puzzled look._) On + Me? + + ABBOT--How did you come to say it, Oswald? + + OSWALD--I grew up, Father, in a forest where + Men used to hunt, and I have often sat + In winter round their fires and heard them tell + Tales of the chase. And so when Father spoke + Of a chase my mind went back-- + + ABBOT-- Did you say this + After he told you of the hunter's dream? + + OSWALD--Dream? + + FATHER BENEDICT--_I_ told? I did not tell him. + + (_Instantly the Abbot frowns silence at the + Priest._) + + Speak out. + + ABBOT--_Non somnium venatoris._-- + + OSWALD-- What dream? + + PRIEST-- (_Contemptuously._) + As if he did not know it! + + ABBOT-- (_Agitated._) + _Ne--ne dic!_ + _Non scit somnium._ + + PRIEST-- (_Opening wide his eyes._) + That's the trick, then! + I'm to believe that, am I? + + OSWALD-- Father, what--? + + FATHER BENEDICT--I'll tell you what. The hunter-- + + ABBOT-- Benedict! + + FATHER BENEDICT--If he don't know the dream, I'll tell him. + Macias saw a pack of-- + + ABBOT--(_Striking the table._) Will you stop? + _Eum ad insaniam adiges._ + + FATHER BENEDICT--Let it drive him mad. + + (_As though provoked beyond expression, the Abbot + passes his hand across his brow and casts a + scornful glance toward the Priest._) + + ABBOT-- Oswald, you go back + Into your cloister. + + OSWALD-- Drive who mad, Father? + + FATHER BENEDICT--You. The hunter saw the furious + hounds of Hell + Chasing you up a mountain, while a storm-- + + ABBOT--Benedict, God's curse-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- On his enemies? + + ABBOT-- On-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Stretching out his right arm._) + On those that aid them? + + ABBOT-- Yes, and on-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Him, then. + + (_From his right hand he drops the silver crucifix + and, with the forefinger of his left, points + at Oswald. The latter starts, shrinking in + terror from the curse. The Abbot and Louis, + dumbfounded, stare wide-eyed at the crucifix_ + _which dangles from its cord about the Priest's + finger. The latter, after regarding with an + expression of triumph the astonishment of the + Abbot, lets the crucifix fall to the table + and, reaching across to the other side, pulls + the flagon over to himself and proceeds to + pour out a cup of wine._) + + You're a smart set. You've wormed your way around + To let him out of calling me a dog; + Now let him out of that. You've made it seem-- + + (_He sips the wine._) + + ABBOT--Where did you find it? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- To yourselves, no doubt, + That he was ignorant of the dream when he + Insinuated that I led the pack + That chased him. + + (_After a sip of wine._) + + Or would lead it. + + ABBOT-- Where did you + Find it? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Where do you suppose? + + LOUIS-- In the brook? + + FATHER BENEDICT--A cauldron of hell-broth would be + nearer it. And you? (_The Abbot shakes his head._) + On his best-beloved. + + LOUIS-- On Pierre? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- On the dwarf. (_He drinks._) + Wages for his services, I suppose. + + (_While the Priest drains the cup, the Abbot nods + to Louis, who steps quickly toward Oswald as + if to hurry him out._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Hold up! You let him stay. + + OSWALD--(_Excitedly._) You had no right-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Lifting his hand._) + It's my turn to explain. (_He begins to fill the cup._) + + ABBOT-- Oswald, retire. + + OSWALD--I want to clear myself. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _Clear!_ Let him stay. + + (_Cup in hand, to the Abbot._) + + After your pretty speech this morning I, + Reaching the village, found your monk, here, and + Jardin at swords' points. Some one had espied + The dwarf, it seems, in town. And the people, + Remembering what he did the other night, + Shouted, and the Bailiff's voice rang loud + For vengeance. + + OSWALD-- But 'twas the boy-- + + LOUIS-- You be still. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Jardin proposed that they should burn him. He + Opposed it, fought it, he did. Just then I + Rode in. Jardin appealed to me, and I + Urged them to seize the devil. Then it was + This upstart here let loose his venomous, + Vile, hell-suggested intimation that + I had turned hound. + + OSWALD-- I did not-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Not a word. + The upshot of it all was--Ah, but God + Will pour his wrath out on your head for this! + In view of what then happened, I now call + This night, this midnight hour, and wake up God + To witness that these mountains shall be cleared + Of heathen; that the dews of heaven shall fall + Baptizing bodies of the unbaptized + Stiff among the wild-flowers. For this young week, + That in this storm hath stepped upon the world, + Shall see a storm more terrible than this + On mountain tops uprooting human trees + And choking Death and Hell and Darkness. + Or let the infant Sabbath, born this hour, + Put not a foot on earth, but like a bird + Wander upon the winds, and in the dark + Grope for the morning star and find it not. + Let the gates of the morning be shut and let no bell + Wake up the world, unless it wake to see + Death ravining on the mountains and white Faith + Painting her banners there in heathen blood. + But Mercy shall be shut up in the caves, + For this accursed deed shall be tracked down, + And Vengeance ranging like a wild beast--Thou, + Above these maddening winds that wreck this world, + Hear me, _hear me_, HEAR ME. Thou in heaven! + + (_Out of breath._) + + And you--and you who caused all this, may God-- + + ABBOT--Benedict! + + FATHER BENEDICT--But let God have his-- + + (_He swallows the wine._) His will. + And he will have it, mark you that, young man. + + (_To the Abbot._) + + Strange are the ways God hath of rousing up + The slothful to a work he long since laid + Upon the world and the world shirked it. But + It shall be done now, _it shall be done now_. + If for three years the heathen on the heights + Have served their idols, in less than three days + Their idols and themselves shall be in Hell. + Lead the chase yonder, Father, lead it there! + Beneath _them_ shake the mountains. Let this hand + Strike for Thee there, and serve Thee, striking them, + That this accursed deed may smell no more, + A putrid carcass rotting under heaven. + This is how God hath roused us up at last. + + (_He drains the cup and sets it down._) + + My people armed with vengeance had swung down + And reached the bridge, and Jardin, valiant man, + Soldier of God, Knight Templar of the Cross, + Who in the heathen land fought for ten years + To stamp out Satan, even in his old age + A furnace burning with the breath of God + And firing those about him to the work + Of ridding these mountains of the heathen, he--May + God reward him for it in the world + Without end, Amen--he had grabbed the dwarf + To drag him off and burn him-- + + OSWALD-- It was wrong-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--His blood is on your hands. + + OSWALD--(_Frantically._) You murdered him! + You had no cause to kill him. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _I!_. Hear that. + + OSWALD--The boy had done no harm. The night I fell + 'Twas he who-- + + LOUIS--(_Seizing him._) Will you hush? + + ABBOT--(_White with fear._) Oswald, retire. + Your fever--you're excited. (_Rising._) Benedict, + Don't press this matter further--now. + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Bewildered._) The _boy_! + + ABBOT--Louis, take him-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- No cause to kill the _boy_! + + OSWALD--He-- + + LOUIS-- Father has forbidden it. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Um-hm! + I think I see--I think--I think I see. + + ABBOT--What? + + FATHER BENEDICT--So he told you it was the dwarf, eh? + + LOUIS-- + + (_All the while shoving Oswald toward the rear_ + _door._) + + Just his imagination Father. I-- + I was the one who found him at the gate. + He knew no more about it than a stone. + 'Twas night; the stars were shooting in the-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- When? + + LOUIS--When he was brought up. Why he-- + + ABBOT--(_Quickly._) Louis! + (_Searching the Priest's face._) You asked + If he told us--? + + FATHER BENEDICT--It was the dwarf was killed. + + ABBOT--He told us that you had burned him. + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Fiercely to Oswald._) God shall burn + You, griffon, son of Tophet, damned thing! + + (_Terrified at the dark in the corridor and with + a wild expression upon his face, Oswald + clutches hysterically at the door jambs._) + + OSWALD--No, no, no, no! (_Piteously, as he is shoved along_ + _through the hall._) Father, Father! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Call Hell! + I pray to God-- + + ABBOT-- Breathe no curse, Benedict. + I will inquire into this affair. + If he hath done aught culpable-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _If! If!_ + + ABBOT--If he hath spoken unbecomingly-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--Is Jardin's life then nothing? I suppose + Not, to you. (_He turns and goes toward the door, left._) + + ABBOT-- What? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I suppose not, to you. + + ABBOT--You mean to say-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Go your way; I go mine. + + ABBOT--To say the dwarf killed-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You have espoused the cause + of the guilty. + + ABBOT-- Of the guilty? _I_ espoused? + + (_Following with the light_.) + + Don't tell me Oswald had a hand in this. + Benedict, this is pure malignity. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And no mouth in it, either, I suppose. + + ABBOT--You mean he instigated this attack? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + + (_At the door, buckling his cloak about him_.) + + Go your way; I go mine. + + ABBOT-- I don't believe it. + I don't believe it. It smacks too like the charge + That he called you a dog. If you can prove + That any word of his caused Jardin's death, + I will attend to him. + + FATHER BENEDICT--By cursing me. + + ABBOT--You know why I-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You needn't apologize. + + ABBOT--You, Benedict, not I, are needing grace. + You have assailed a child of God, and you + Know what our Lord said: "'Twere better a mill-stone + Were hanged about his neck and he were flung + Into the sea, than offend one of these." + You even seemed to take delight, to relish + Harrowing his soul up with the hunter's dream + And breaching it for horror to peep through. + + FATHER BENEDICT--You wait. + + (_He reaches down behind the chest_.) + + ABBOT-- God will hold you responsible + If anything should happen to him. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You + Take care he does not visit you. + + ABBOT-- Just now + You said yourself that it was you who urged + Jardin to seize the dwarf. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- And so I did. + + ABBOT--Whose fault is it if the dwarf killed him, then? + + FATHER BENEDICT--We will let God decide whose fault-- + Move this. + + ABBOT-- (_Setting the lamp down upon the floor._) + You even said Oswald opposed it, and + For that just now you blamed him. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You think you + Understand everything. You _think_ you do. + + (_They pull the chest from the wall._) + + ABBOT--Then tell me. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Reaching down and getting his staff._) + The dwarf did not kill him. + + ABBOT-- How? + Is he not dead? + + FATHER BENEDICT--By this time, he may be. + + ABBOT--I still don't see where Oswald's fault comes in. + + (_He takes up the lamp._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--We will let God decide whose fault it is. + + (_He goes out._) + + ABBOT--How did it happen? + + FATHER BENEDICT--God was there; ask him. + + (_Louis reappears._) + + ABBOT--Stay, Benedict, tell me explicitly-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + This is the last time you will see me here. + + ABBOT--Eh? (_Holding the light above his head._) + What do you propose to do? + + FATHER BENEDICT-- You wait. + + ABBOT--I fear for you, unless you quench your wrath. + + (_A moment later, he turns back._) + + LOUIS--Again safe. + + ABBOT-- Barely. + + LOUIS-- What was that he said? + The last time he would come here? + + ABBOT-- I hope so. (_Thunder._) + + LOUIS--And don't let Oswald-- + + ABBOT-- Close tight the shutters. + + LOUIS--And don't let Oswald go down there again. + We would be risking all that we have gained. + The brothers, begging in the town to-day, + Brought in four hundred franks, a silver cup, + Three rings, a pair of bracelets, and a pearl + Big as a pea. + + ABBOT-- A very good day's work. + + LOUIS--If this keeps up, the chest won't hold it all. + + ABBOT-- (_Suddenly, glancing about upon the table._) + Benedict--did he take--the crucifix? + + LOUIS-- (_At the window._) + Oswald took it.--Do you think Benedict + Found it where he said he-- + + ABBOT--(_Aghast._) Oswald! + + LOUIS-- Why? + + ABBOT--The hunter saw it blood-stained in his dream. + + (_A gust of wind blows out the light in his hand._) + + LOUIS--Perhaps it got blood on it when he fell. + Benedict may have washed it off. I thought + It might help quiet him. Shall I get it? + + ABBOT-- No; + You may be right. + + LOUIS-- Still, if you think-- + + ABBOT-- You fetch-- + I'll take the lamp and cup; you fetch the wine. + I will have Pierre watch with him to-night. + + (_Louis turns back to the window. The Abbot + relights his lamp at the little taper in the + wall and then goes left._) + + LOUIS--By the way, Father, old Andrew has gone mad. + The storm has blown his mind's last spark out. Yes; + He tried to take the bracelets from Luigi + And would have dragged the chest out. + + ABBOT-- And did he? + + LOUIS-- No; + But it was all that four of us could do + To hold him. He is on the seas again, + And peers abroad and swears he sees great ships-- + + (_Out in the storm is heard the booming of a bell. + They listen. Louis crosses himself and + mutters._) + + _Sed libera nos a malo._ Father-- (_The Abbot lifts his hand._) + What + Do you think it means? (_A pause._) + + ABBOT-- Come to my room. + + (_To himself, as he goes left._) If + The etherial gods, as the wise poet says, + Dwell afar off and in the affairs of men + Interfere not, our domes shall rise yet. + (_Turning._) Louis, + Bring the scroll. + + LOUIS-- Which? + + ABBOT-- Lucretius. On the floor. + + (_In the doorway he stops and listens as for the + bell. As he goes out._) If. + + (_Louis takes up the parchment which lies upon the_ + _floor near the Abbot's chair and, going to the + rear door, shuts it and slides the bolt. He + then blows out the taper in the wall._) + + LOUIS-- (_Listening._) + The witches have their way in heaven to-night. + + (_He comes to the table and, taking up the flagon, + goes out, left._) + + + _SCENE THREE--The court yard of the abbey, as in Scene Three + of the Second Act. A storm is heard roaring through the + mountains, with an occasional rumble of thunder and in the + darkness sudden luster as of lightning far off. In these + flashes, the scene gleams wet as after a hard rain._ + + _From the right, comes a faint sound as of a stick tapping on_ + _stone, and soon along the side of the dormitory old Andrew_ + _appears, carrying a staff with which he is feeling his way + through the darkness._ + + ANDREW--Here a black squall, sou'-wester, south-south-west. + Star--star gone! Where's the pole? + (_Shouting._) Furl the main, lads! + On she spins, whirling past world on world. Hip! + Feel her--feel her heave! (_Shouting._) Take in the mizzen! + A thousand thousand fathoms down, the moon + Shines like a fish. (_He peers around the corner._) + Black as--Hear the masts crack. + Watch Alvinach! Watch for the ninth wave, lads! + + (_Lightning._) + + Put out that broom! You'll have the witches here. + Mother, they've burnt the baby!--Hya! Lie down. + + (_He walks out in the court._) + + Here's a night, God bless us! Here's a gale + To make the sea-girls sing. Scylla! Carribee! + Shake your dead bones! Shake 'em and sing! Blow, then. + Growl, Scylla! Growl, ocean-bitch, bark and growl! + Now, Carribee, whirl! Shake the big gulf and slush! + Gulp down the worlds with stars and moons and moons! + + (_Lightning._) + + Yip, there they go! Suck 'em down! suck 'em down! + Arcturus down! Down Cancer! down the Scales! + Whirled into the pit! Weigh the devils, Scales! + Weigh the big Serpent! Weigh Beelzebub! + Hands ahelm! Ahull, boys! Lash her to the lea! + Lash her to the lea! Splinters! Watch out, lads! + Saint Telme! Saint Telme! Hold the gunnel there! + + (_The bell sounds in the chapel tower._) + + Who's dead? Who's dead, i' the Devil's name? + Fetch me those rings. Now throw him overboard. + Scrub these stains, Luigi. Keep the dog back there. + This gold will glitter on the Judgment Day. + I hear you whispering, scoundrels!--Hya! Lie down. + + (_He walks back, singing._) + + _There's wind up in her pitch-black flag;_ + _There's foam around her keel._ + + Now we're scudding. Right through the Dipper-- + + (_Lightning._) Ahoy! + + Elmo! Elmo! Light up! light up, man! + Argo's to the larboard! Signal her! Ahoy! + Ship ahoy, Cap! Ship ahoy! Ship full of gold! + She's whirling south! Man the boats! Lay to! lay to! + Here's a squall winks at the pirates, lads! + Mount her, hardies! Break her hatches! Gold under 'em. + + (_Singing._) + + _There's foam up in her pitch-black flag;_ + _There's wind around her keel...._ (_Shouting._) + + Watch Alvinach, though! Keep the lantern dry! + + (_He stops and listens._) + + I hear you whispering, scoundrels!---Hya! Lie down. + Who said so? Louis lied. Stand back, I say! + Four on an old man! Dogs! Let go my hair! + + (_A loud clap of thunder._) + + The shrouds break now, God bless us! here's a wind + Will blow us far off to the Pleiades + And swamp us. (_Lightning._) + That was the Bear went by. And + Virgo has sunk here jewels in the south. + Sink 'em deep, girl! Pirates abroad.--What's this? + + (_Calling down._) + + Got it, boys? Got the gold? See it, see it shine! + Throw your cloak over it. Don't let God see this. + Ho, Prester John! sailing among the stars? + Here's your chest, John! Here's your sparklers! Where is he? + Where is he, boys? Throw the king overboard? + Pitched him to Plato on his big fork, eh? + _Odi Persicos._ Like their gold, though. Up, + Up with it, lads. Heave, now. Chest broken open. + Leak, gold, leak, leak! Here's your spring, Crashus! + Here, Jew! here you can cool your tongue! + Traders, drink! Drink, worms! Pigs! Pastors! Devils! + Drink, drink! Everything drink! + (_Stooping down._) Here's a dead man's ring. + Finger's in the coral. Bracelets and gems. + Topaz from Tartary. Emeralds from the East. + Garnets. Eh? Garter-buckles! (_Reproachfully._) + Lads! lads! + + (_A glare of lightning reveals him with his hand + close to his eyes._) + + "From Carlos." + Chloe's gone bathing, Carlos. Turned cold nymph. + Let go! Let go, I say! Androphanes! + Strike him, Juba! Slash him with the broad-sword! + You hand that back here, then. Hell-dog. + Here's a widow's mite; bought a monk's prayer. + Flip it into the sea. + Judas! here you are! (_Thunder._) + Rumble on! Growl and growl! Who cares for Heaven now? + Rain or not rain. We can fight, too, old boy. + Wipe your lips, Scariot. Take the chamois bag. + There's thirty-two. Off with you.--Wallets! Old coin! + Rich man, miser, knave! Sick, eh? Quick, your gold! + Take it to the priest, then you can jump + Right through the needle's eye. + + (_He gets down upon his knees._) Well, God bless + us! + + Sacked the sea-king's coffers. See the pearls! + Crescents and ear-bobs. Here's a brooch fine as + Sparkles on Memnon's sister. What's this clammy thing? + Cold, bloody hand! Hand with a locket in it! + _Un_lock it. Ho! picture, eh? Say mamma, baby! + Mamma's in the sea-weed. That's a foul deed. + Throw your cloak over it. Don't let God see this. + + (_Calling up._) + + Who's there? (_Rising._) Who calls Andrew? Stand down on the ground. + The lid _is_ off. (_Stooping._) Parchment deeds, eh? I. X. + If Andrew's Andrew, then I. X. is eleven. + What shines? Silver. (_A pause._) + Monk's cross. (_A pause._) + Wet. (_Flash of lightning._) + Red! (_With horror._) + Lads! lads! + We'll sink for this, God bless us! Pretty muss! + Who daubed it? (_Thunder._) Hear that. Horror in the dark + Doffs his big plume at this. And up there--Here! + Wash it! wash it in the sea! In with the chest, lads! + Murder like a foam-bird dashed upon the prow + Shakes her red wings. And there--Look! (_Shouting._) + Wash it clean! + Heaven's golden scales are rising from the deep! + Off! lay her--lay her off, lads! They'll weigh us! + + (_A sharp flash of lightning. Andrew is seen with + his left hand up beside his head, which is + drawn down, backing fearfully through the + door into the dormitory. The thunder rumbling + in the darkness sounds like the growl of an + enormous wild beast._) + + + + +ACT FIVE. + + + _SCENE ONE--A street in the village. Low thatched cottages,_ + _with deep, wide eaves overhanging the street, stand in a + dark mass. To the left, a little way from the others and + back a few paces from the street, is a small house, the_ + _home of Jardin. Through a window in the room on the right + side comes a faint light as from a low-burning lamp. To the + left of the window, one feels that there is a door, though, + either on account of intervening bushes or perhaps because + of a porch that makes it darker there, one does not see + it. Out in the yard where the light from the window falls + upon the bushes near the casement, the glistening of the + leaves shows that it has been raining. The windows of the + other houses, like vacant eyes under deep brows, are dark, + and there are no signs of life anywhere. Over the roofs and + through the great trees that rise up behind them flows a + greyness that emphasizes the quiet of the hour. About the + street lie several limbs that were broken off by the storm + during the night._ + + _TIME--Sunday morning. Day is just beginning to break._ + + A CRY-- (_Far to the left, full or terror and anguish._) + Haro! Haro! (_Drawing nearer._) + Wake, people! Help, oh, help! + + (_After a pause._) + + Will no one hear? Will no one hear? (_Near by._) + O men of God! Dear men of God! (_A pause._) Oh, run, + Run to the mountains, men! + + (_Pierre enters half on a run, breathless. There is + a wild light in his eyes and his thin frame + is shaken with sobs._) + + Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! + + (_He glances toward the lighted window as though in + doubt whether or not to rouse the inmates of + the house. Then, as though to make up even + for the moment he has lost, he hurries along + the goes out, right._) + + People! Christian people! + + (_The light in the window grows dimmer and suddenly + disappears, leaving the house in total + darkness._) + + Will no one hear? + Will no one hear? Wake! Oh, wake! (_In the distance._) + Haro! + + VOICE-- (_To the left._) + Jules! + + SECOND VOICE--(_Nearer._) Ho? + + FIRST VOICE-- Who is it? + + SECOND VOICE-- Some brother. + + (_Jules Bacqueur enters._) Pierre. + + FIRST VOICE-- The abbey's + Blown down, perhaps. + + HUGH CAPET--(_Entering._) Where are all the people? + + JULES BACQUEUR--At special mass for Jardin. + + (_He glances back toward the house where, at + that moment, the door opens and the light + appears._) + + HUGH CAPET--(_Hurrying on after Pierre._) Come on. + + JULES BACQUEUR-- Wait. + Let's hear how the Bailiff is. + + (_Hugh Capet returns to the corner of the cottages + that are flush with the street and the men + look back to where two figures, one after + the other, appear in the lighted doorway + of Jardin's house, a man who comes out and_ + _an old woman with a white cap on who carries + a small lamp. A little later the door is + closed._) + + HUGH CAPET-- Who is it, Jacques? + + JULES BACQUEUR--He spent the night there. + + HUGH CAPET-- What a night it was! + Just see these limbs. + + JULES BACQUEUR-- And there's some fellow's hat. + + HUGH CAPET--The roof's off Pirot's barn, and Lisette-- + + JULES BACQUEUR-- Here. + + (_He comes forward to the edge of the street._) + + HUGH CAPET-- (_Following him._) + And Lisette found a big bird in her yard + With a broken wing, blown in here miles and miles, + From the Holy Land or Joppa or some sea. + + JULES BACQUEUR-- (_Pointing right._) + Look at those yew trees in the church yard there. + Bless God, they've pulled up dead mens' skulls. (_A pause._) + + HUGH CAPET--And those men there--? + + BACQUEUR-- Are filling up the graves. + And where's the cross? (_A pause._) + + HUGH CAPET-- Not on the steeple? Say, + That monk--There's something up. When dead men's bones + Are thundered over in the night, and graves + Ungorge like that with wind, strange birds, and things-- + + VOICE-- (_Left._) + Who is that shouting? + + HUGH CAPET-- Don't know. + + BACQUEUR-- How's Jardin? + + JACQUES--(_Entering._) Eh? + + HUGH CAPET--He didn't hear you. + + JACQUES-- What's he shouting for? + + BACQUEUR--The storm tore up the dead last night. + + HUGH CAPET-- The abbey's + Blown down, perhaps, or-- Come on. Hurry, men. + + BACQUEUR--How is the Bailiff? (_Distant thunder._) + + HUGH CAPET--- (_Hurrying out right._) + Going to have another'n. + + JACQUES--The soldier had a bad night. In his fever + He picks the sheets, mumbling: "Saints, send him down," + And: "Listen, men!" and things like that. And once, + Jumps him clean out of bed and cries out: "There!" + As he had run the woodman through and through, + And wipes his sword like on his pants, and then, + As though he felt his wound, falls back and pop! + The wind or something blows the light out and + We hear the banshee singing in the storm, + Wild--wild. I fear the bell with toll 'fore night. + + (_They go out._) + + + _SCENE TWO--The open space in front of the church. In the + corner of the fence, left, the top of the poplar tree,_ + _broken off by the wind during the night, hangs out in the_ + _street almost brushing the ground. To the right of the_ + _steps is a large wooden cross which was blown from the_ + _steeple. It lies sidewise, hazing been split off at the + bottom. The gate into the church yard is slightly ajar, as_ + _though some one had lately passed through, and against the + dark grass the taller of the white grave markers lean as + though the wind had been among them. Over the low fences + where one looks back into the church yard on the one side + and into an open space on the other, is seen yellow light + from the side windows of the church, pouring out into the + gloom. From within, comes the sound of the service._ + + CONGREGATION--His spear was lifted over Acre, Lord, + And his right arm hath made the heathen quail. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And he hath spread thy glory through the East. + + CONGREGATION--And he hath spread thy glory through the East. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Let not the flags be draped that fluttered high + Above the strongholds of the Infidel. + + CONGREGATION--Let not the flags be draped that fluttered high + Above the strongholds of the Infidel. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Let not the scorners from the mountain tops + Look down and see the dark procession go; + But lift him up and lift up trembling, Lord. + + CONGREGATION--Let not the scorners from the mountain tops + Look down and see the dark procession go; + But lift him up and lift up trembling, Lord. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Keep death off, Lord, until the gates of death + Receive the accursed hand that laid him low. + + CONGREGATION--Keep death off, Lord, until the gates of death + Receive the accursed hand that laid him low. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Let not thine enemies triumph over thee. + Thunder it, brethren, so that God may hear. + + CONGREGATION--Let not thine enemies triumph over thee. + + FATHER BENEDICT--The mountains are afraid of thee, O Lord. + Shake their wild tops and shake the heathen down. + + CONGREGATION--The mountains are afraid of thee, O Lord. + Shake their wild tops and shake the heathen down. + + FATHER BENEDICT--So shall thy Church with loud hosannas ring. + + CONGREGATION--So shall thy Church with loud hosannas ring. + + FATHER BENEDICT--World without end. + + CONGREGATION-- World without end. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Amen. + + PIERRE--(_Far to the left._) Haro! haro! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Accept, O eternal Father, the offering that is + here made to Thee by Thy minister, in the name of us all here + present. It is as yet only bread and wine, but by a miracle of + Thy power and grace will shortly become the body and blood-- + + PIERRE--(_Drawing nearer._) Help, help! Oh, help! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_After a pause, as though he had heard the cry._) + + --the body and blood of Thy beloved Son. He is our high priest + and He is our victim. By Him and-- + + PIERRE--O men of God! Dear men of God! + + (_There is a hush in the church._) + + _Will_ you not help? _Will_ you not-- + + (_He enters with his hands to his head, fearful + lest he has disturbed the service._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Resuming._) + He is our high priest and He is our victim. + + (_Pierre throws himself down upon the steps, + sobbing._) + + By Him and through + Him, we desire to approach--Sit down, men! (_A pause._) + Women! Men! Sit down! + + (_The noise in the church increases._) + + A VOICE-- Sit down, brethren! + Don't desecrate the Lord's house! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Shouting._) You hear me? + + A WOMAN'S VOICE--Husband! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Enraged._) Malediction! + + (_The church door is jerked open, and the people + come pouring out with anxious faces lest + something terrible has happened. Back in the + church, above the heads of the people, is + seen the altar ablaze with lights, and high_ + _behind it a colossal cross with a beautiful + carven Christ upon it. The wound in the side + shows red and over the thorn-crowned brow + is an arch bearing in golden letters the + inscription: FORGIVE THEM FOR THEY KNOW NOT + WHAT THEY--The DO has never been put on._) + + PIERRE-- (_Staggering up from the steps._) + Run, run to the mountains, men! + Quick! quick! + They're dragging him off! They're dragging him off! + O run, run, run, run, run! + + CRIES--What--where--who is it? + + PIERRE--Yonder! yonder! + Oh, get torches, + Get torches and run + And kindle fires on the mountain tops + So he may see his way! + No, that won't help! Oh, that won't help! + But he can hear, though! + Call, call to him! + Search all the places where the blind may be! + Run shouting "Oswald! Oswald!" through the woods! + Find him, oh, find him before Satan comes! + Before the storm breaks! + They'll track him by the blood drops! + They'll tear his body on the mountains! + O men, dear men-- (_A clap of thunder. Pierre dodges._) + What--what was that? + Oh, God said something! God said something! + + (_Pointing up at the sky._) + + He knows! He knows! + Lord Jesus knows that it was not his fault! + And He will pay--oh, He will bless you, men! + Do, do, do run! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Make way! + + PIERRE--O Father! Father! + + (_In his snow-white chasuble, the priest appears + pushing his way through the throng about the + door. In his hand he has a silver communion + plate with the bread upon it._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Why all this clamor? + This is the Sabbath and the hour of mass. + + PIERRE--It's done! It's done! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Descending the steps._) + How dare you cry out on this holy morn? + + PIERRE--Oh, last night, Father, last night in the dark + White angels, oh, white angels in the storm--It + tore their wings and blew them from the sky, + And then--and then--O father, then the fiends--He + saw them in the stones and--screamed and--Oh, + They did a deed of horror in the dark! + + (_He presses his hands into his eyes as if to + shut out the sight of it._) + + Oh! Oh! Oh! + + FATHER BENEDICT--What is this? + + PIERRE-- (_Bending up and down._) + Oh! Oh! Oh! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Pierre! (_A pause._) + Pierre, if Hell hath done + Some wild deed in the night, be sure that God + Will right it. + + PIERRE--Will He, oh, will He, Father, make him to see-- + See the blue sky again? + + FATHER BENEDICT--Who is it Hell hath blinded in the night? + + PIERRE-- (_With his hands to his eyes, sobbing._) + Brother--brother-- + + FATHER BENEDICT--Pierre! + + PIERRE--O, Oswald! Oswald! + + (_With a cry, Madam Bacqueur falls fainting upon + the steps. The women about her take her child + from her arms and support her back into the + church. The crowd stands silent._) + + PIERRE-- (_Bending up and down._) + Say something! say something! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Almost overcome._) + Can this be true? Can this be true, Pierre? + + PIERRE--Oh! Oh! Oh! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Swift fly the avenging angels from the Throne. + Guilt like a red cloud passes from the sky, + And day looks in and sees where eyes have been. + + PIERRE-- (_As though his heart would break._) + Brother! brother! brother! + + FATHER BENEDICT--_Praise be to God!_ + The tempest shaketh showers upon the grass; + The storm wind cooleth the low violet; + But the proud pine I shatter, saith the Lord. + He shall go down and toss his boughs in hell. + The coffin-worm shall slime him. He shall not + Mock me upon the mountains, saith the Lord. + _Praise be to God!_ + + (_Pierre glances up at the priest and then, as from + something infernal, falls flat and hides his + face against the ground._) + + The lights are out in Babylon the Proud, + And the Lord God in blackness sitteth there + Among the ruins, dealing judgment. + + (_The rising wind blows shut the door of the + church and leaves the scene enveloped in the + half-light of early morning._) + + My scales are hung in heaven, saith the Lord. + I weigh them in the darkness of the night. + They balance with the Dragon on one side. + _Glory be to God in the highest!_ + + (_Shouting off demoniacally in the direction of the + abbey._) + + Lift up thy head, O Lucifer, in hell, + And see what God hath written on the sky + In letters that burn through thy broken panes. + + (_With his finger as though tracing the letters._) + + "Weighed and found wanting! + I am the Lord God. + In Me the moon goes down; in Me the sun + Rises; I am the night and day. + If over any man a light break forth + And make his brow bright, let him not think + It shines for him alone, and be puffed up + Because of it, and speak + Bitterly, saying: 'See what pure prayers can do.' + For when his lungs are empty, saith the Lord, + Then I will give him flesh unto the dogs. + I will put out the light that kindles pride, + Saith the Lord God, and with the light the eyes." (_In a wild chant._) + _Praise be to God who doeth all things well._ + Shinar hath seen the glory of the Lord. + Nimrod, who piled up Babel to the stars, + Lies sprawling under it, and the thunders laugh. + + (_Shouting in the direction of the abbey._) + + Who lieth under Babel?--Up, Pierre; + I have a message. Rise, for you + Must bear it to your sainted abbot. + + (_Pierre rises and, with his head thrown back and + his hands covering his face, without waiting, + goes straight out, left._) + + "Benedict to his brother in Christ, + Greeting: + Who lieth under Babel? You were right + In saying that the storm would shake the world. + It hath indeed played havoc. Certain trees + In the churchyard tore the graves up, and the dead + Have shaken roofs and spires in the town. + We lost our cross. + I hear you, too, lost somewhat. Gables though + Can be repaired. + We should both thank our Lord he hath not let + A lamb he careth for be scathed. + Who lieth under Babel?" + + (_Coming out in the street and shouting after + Pierre._) + + And to the brother, the dear ward of God, + Convey felicitations! + Ask him to + Tell you the color of the abbot's hair + This morning. + Wake him! + Say: + "The stars are flying in and out the clouds; + The mountain tops are tinging; + Night passes; + Rouse up, and behold the Dawn + Pouring her beautiful gold upon the world!" + Tell him to + Run down and see the print the bishop John + Sent me from Rome. + Blind Samson's head, who pulled the pillars down, + Under a dog's paws in the Gaza streets. + And in his car, as a salutation for the Sabbath, + Bark this from Benedict, from Benedict, the dog: + "Pride is a wind that from the shores of light + Bloweth far off where neither sun nor moon + Nor stars shine nor shall shine forevermore." + God hath heard one prayer. Come in, men. + + (_He enters the church. After a silence the + men about the steps begin to talk among + themselves in undertones._) + + ONE OF THEM-- (_Calling through the door._) + Father! + + ANOTHER--If he don't let us go, let's go ourselves. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Reappearing._) + Who called? (_A pause._) + What is it? + + A MAN--Before you come out, Father, the monk spoke + Like as how the chase was on. + + ANOTHER--"Run to the mountains, men!" + + ANOTHER-- "Quick! quick!" + + ANOTHER--Said we should find him before Satan comes. + + ANOTHER--That was before you came out. + + FIRST MAN--Spoke like as how the dogs were on his trail. + + FATHER BENEDICT--Run, some one, and fetch Pierre back. + + (_Two men dart out, left._) + + He did not tell me this. (_A pause._) + Arm yourselves, men. + + (_In a mass the men hurry out, left, a confused hum + of voices rising for a moment, then dying + away in the distance. The scene has grown + darker. A gust of wind blows to the door of + the church._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Alone upon the steps._) + This is the day. (_A pause._) + Inscrutable are the ways of God. Dark, dark, + Unfathomable the sea in which He moves. + He changeth as the waters change, and yet + The mountains strike their roots in Him and stand. + + (_Thunder right. The priest comes down from the + steps and out into the street, where he + stands looking up at the sky._) + + Thy ways are not our ways. Thy voice is heard + Abroad upon the firmament. The stars + That should have been put out an hour ago + Burn bright upon the edges of the storm. + Satan hath laid his hand upon the sun, + And the day gropes, feeling her way far off + As doth the blind. But yesterday the morn + Walked beautiful on the mountains, with her lamp + Kindled as for the Resurrection. + This is the Sabbath, yet Golgotha's gloom + Hangs o'er the Sepulcher, and like a torch + Thrown down upon the mountains burns the dawn + A scant blue flame far down behind the world. + + (_A pause._) + + God shall not call in vain. + + (_Looking left._) + + I will forgive + The bitter words. The lost shall be reclaimed. + + (_He walks briskly back and climbs the steps and + enters the church. A man with a shovel on + his shoulder appears coming from back in the + churchyard. He stops by the fence and looks + about._) + + THE MAN--Don't see them. + + A VOICE-- (_From back in the churchyard._) + Someone's moaning in the church. + + (_Another man appears with a shovel. They listen. + Faint shouting, left._) + + FIRST MAN--Let's leave our shovels here. + + (_They put down their shovels and get over the low + fence into the open space before the church + and start, left. Pierre is heard returning._) + + PIERRE--But it was not his fault. + + (_Between the two men he enters wringing his + hands._) + + It was the fiends that did it. + 'Twas his hand but-- (_Starting back._) + They're hiding--they're hiding back of there! + + (_He points to the broken top of the poplar tree + that hangs out in the street. The men from + the churchyard come from behind it._) + + Oh, they've been by the graves! + + (_He covers his face with his hands and bends up + and down, sobbing hysterically._) + + ONE OF THE MEN-- What has he done? + + (_With a great shining crucifix upon a staff, the + priest appears in the doorway and comes + hurriedly down the steps._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--Pierre, in the name of God, all-hail! + I greet you as one having holy lips, + Since God hath chosen you to set on fire + With one bright word all days to be. Pierre, + Which way hath he gone? God is waiting. + The seraphim--Nay, fear me not, for I + Have been baptized with fire that hath fallen + Suddenly from heaven. Which way hath he gone? + To the high places fly the seraphim + And banners flash and fade among the clouds. + The Lord of Life into my power hath given + The life of him who spoke--I will forgive + The bitter words. This is the day of days. + Within I shine, though round about the storm + Spreadeth her gloom. Even my hands are dark. + The thunder peals the muster of the dead. + + (_Faint shouts, left._) + + PIERRE-- (_Falling upon his knees._) + They've bitten him! they've bitten him! Pray! pray! pray! + + FATHER BENEDICT--Nay, Pierre, these are shouts of them whose mouths + Shall sing upon the mountains when my hand + Shall rend the hound and pluck the blind from death. + His breath is in the hollow of my hand, + And though he taunted me and though I might-- + + (_He blows in his palm._) + + The dream shall be fulfilled. Throughout all time + All dreams shall hail this dream a holy thing + That hath chosen from all days this holy day + To wake and run. While from the Sepulcher + God rolls the stone back, the dream opens hell + And slips the dogs while angels have the world. + Henceforth the Angel of the Resurrection, + Hand in hand with the hunter's dream, shall run + With fiery feet over the ages leaving + Luminous the eyes of holy men. + For me this is a great day. From the clouds + The purposes of God, in fold on fold, + Fall round and mantle me with light. Pierre, + In what dread shape came Blindness through the halls + Of the abbey, feeling for the brother's eyes + In the darkness? What did he say when God + With one blow blotted out the moon and sun + Forever, and the faces of his friends? + Forgiveness did he cry for, for the things-- + But that is past. I have been and shall be, + Yesterday and to-morrow, Benedict. + To-day, as nameless as the stars of heaven, + Forgetful of all injuries like the winds, + I rush about the earth and, like the lightning, + Will strike where God shall throw me. Like the rain, + I shall fall mercifully on hot eyes that lit + But a few hours before with pride and scorn + But now are dark forever. + + PIERRE-- Oh! Oh! Oh! + + FATHER BENEDICT--I will not say that. God in his power can make + The blind earth fill the sockets of the blind + With balls as bright as orbs of seraphim, + Or without eyes can fill the soul with light. + Your brother, Pierre, fell upon the dark-- + _My_ brother; I will say it and forgive-- + Our brother fell on darkness not last night, + But long since turned his shining face away + From light, and gradually as the sun + Sinks, sank low down where sun and moon and stars + Say, "Vanity!" and the grave is over all. + + (_The sobbing of Pierre is heard._) + + But he shall rise. I thank God for this power. + It shall be to my glory that for hate + I returned love. Vengeance is His, and I + Simply a wind to blow and do His will. + God shall have praise, but I shall have praise, too. + Names shall be written high and lamps shall burn + Under them, so that all the saints may see. + + (_He comes out in the street and stands looking in + the direction in which the men went, talking + to himself._) + + Then some who with high heads walked this low earth-- + 'Tis not my prayer, but if God so decide-- + What a day will bring forth no man can-- + + (_Turning back._) + + Pierre, + Did he speak of me when the blow fell? Did he say, + "I wronged that holy man"? Did he say that? + With what word bade he farewell to the stars? + Did not remorse--Why do you look at me + With eyes of horror? + + PIERRE-- (_Shuddering._) + Out into the dark + As if to-- + + (_He presses his hands into his eyes._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--With no word? + + PIERRE-- "The dogs! the dogs!" + + FATHER BENEDICT--And called, then, I suppose, upon the dwarf. + Did he appear and give him back his eyes? + I judge not, from these tears that trickle down. + And did no sinner's wail go up to God? + God, Pierre, will plant eyes in his blind soul. + With what cry hoisted he sail for the dark land? + + PIERRE-- (_Between sobs._) + "Father--Woden!" + + FATHER BENEDICT--Ha, and he saw him, then! + Cried to the Father that the heathen god + Was putting out his eyes! 'Tis well. In that + Last flash God showed him whence the darkness came. + + (_One of the men who came back with Pierre whispers + to the Priest._) + + PIERRE--Lord Jesus knows that it was not his fault. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Amazed._) + Did he do that, Pierre, did he do that? + + PIERRE--'Twas not his fault. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- _Put out his eyes himself!_ + + PIERRE--Oh, in his fever-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- What will sin not do! + + PIERRE--And someone-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Rather than look upon my face! + By this deed he admits the charge I made. + + PIERRE--And someone--someone told him of the dream, + How that the dogs should tear him-- + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Stop right there! + You come down here to cast his blood on me? + I see the hand inside this hellish glove. + + (_He turns and comes straight out into the street._) + + PIERRE-- (_Timidly._) + 'Twas that that did it. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Lifting his hand and shouting aloud._) + Go back, men, go back! + We will stay here! This I will _not_ forgive. + + (_He returns toward the church and climbs the + steps. On top he stops, stands for a moment, + then sets his crucifix in the doorway and + comes back down. Pierre, fearing he is about + to be attacked, draws back. The priest follows_ + _him._) + + I know who sent you down here and I know + Why. (_Shaking his finger._) + Pierre, had this word not been distilled + Under old fangs and put in your young mouth, + This sting should cost you something. As it is, + In you I overlook it. + + (_Hoarse with wrath._) + + The old snake! + God shall pass judgment between me and him. + The seraphim shall burn his mouth with coals. + Accursed envy! He beneath the wreck + Of Babel lies and thence looks out and sees + Me in white garments on the mount of God + Going toward glory, and it rankles in him. + + (_Women appear in the doorway._) + + And so he seeks to terrify my soul + With: "Hide from the lightning! God is in it!" + As though I went toward Ramoth-Gilead + With Ahab's hand smoking with prophets' blood. + That is why he told you to tell me this. + But I will not be terrified by him. + + (_Pierre backs out._) + + Accursed envy! And you tell him so. + Much rather would he see the brother lost-- + + (_The women press too close and the crucifix + tumbles down the steps._) + + What is it you do? Go back in there! God's curse-- + + (_Looking after Pierre._) + + On any man who would much rather see + A dear son lost than see me glorified. + Tell _him_ to hide. The wind that curls these clouds + Is the same wind that blew last night. Does he + With black mouth cry to me my hand is red? + If it be, if he think so, you tell him to stand + On his wrecked gable and watch Benedict + Walk right straight up to God with this red hand + And take the crown and leave no finger marks. + + (_On tiptoe, Madam Valmy steals down the steps to + recover the crucifix._) + + As for his charge that I have done this deed, + Tell him it smells of Hell.--Go back in there! + + (_Madam Valmy goes back up the steps and the women + withdraw from the door._) + + Daunted shall I be by lying lips? + Shall Belial reign? Shall God call twice and thrice? + I will not leave my cup of glory stand + Untouched because the old snake cannot drink; + Because he, having wormwood on his lips, + Cries: "God boils in the wine upon the heights!" + I will drink it. + + (_Armed and with Jacques Sar at their head, the + men enter silent, their faces showing + disappointment. In the disorder in which they + enter, there are traces of three lines into + which they had been drawn up._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- We will go, men. + + (_The men brighten up and become turbulent, and the + three lines immediately reappear. The priest + walks back toward the church._) + + Pick up-- + + (_A man goes toward the crucifix that lies on the + ground. The Priest steps upon the steps and + turns, facing the men. While he speaks, + Jacques Sar marches the lines right and + wheels them around so as to face left, the_ + _direction in which Pierre came and went. For + others who keep coming in, he finds places in + the lines and, examining weapons and moving + the men about, goes up and down with the air + of an old commander._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Men, + This is the grandest day that ever mixed + Her golden hair with banners. The hunter's dream, + That flashed and vanished in the night, after + Lying like our Lord three days in darkness, + Bursts like a shining angel upon the world + + (_He receives the crucifix._) + + And dazzles. We see not clearly, for the light + Blinds as the darkness doth. All night the earth + Tumbled as a man in fever. Saints on fire + Walked grandly on the mountain combs and called, + And the graves opened, and the silent ones-- + What can it mean that of the churchyard dead + Only the soldiers rose? And that, too, when + Hell's hand was heavy on the brother? Men, + At midnight riding down the mountain, I + Saw wonders and heard things I dare not tell. + What the hounds are I know not, but I know + One up there hath a snare laid for them. And I-- + I see my name in fire on those clouds. + These winds shall blow it luminous, and all + The world shall see it, and all time. Then some + Who now accuse me will come round with smiles. + For I will not be terrified by him. + + (_He says something under his breath and comes + quickly down the steps and out into the + street where he shouts after Pierre._) + + Tell the old man I go upon this chase + Out of no love for him or for his monk. + For I despise them both. You + Tell him just what I say and why I go. + Tell him the storm hath spoken to me. Say + I saw a hand of fire in the night + Beckon, and heard a trumpet peal in heaven. + He thinks I am a coward. So I am; + I fear to disobey the voice of God, + And therefore go. Listen to me, Pierre! + You tell him this: Had Heaven not delivered + Its orders to me, by the throne of God, + Not a spear--Hear me?--not a single spear + Should redden in the rescue of this monk. + As for his charge that I have done this deed, + Tell him it smells of Hell. + + (_Thunder right. The priest turns and for a time + contemplates the sky in silence._) + + One of you men + Run and ask Pierre which way hath he gone, + For there are trails and trails. + + (_A man darts out, left._) + + JACQUES SAR-- Fly fast now, Noel. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Rapt, looking off at the sky, right._) + Why should the storm move that way, if the chase-- + + (_Turning left._) + + Lies yon way? We will wait. + + (_Aloud._) + + God seems to call + Up yonder where the lightning cracks the sky. + + (_After a silence, with his eyes upon the heavens._) + + Like golden links your names shall hang to mine + And dangle down the ages. Men shall say: + "This man and that man were with Benedict + Up in the glory of the Lord that day + When heathendom went tumbling down to hell." + Oh, you shall live forever envied men! + + (_He walks about buried in his thought. + Occasionally he stops for a moment in + meditation, then resumes his pace. Old + Jacques, hesitatingly and stopping whenever + the priest stops, follows him about as though + he wished to communicate something, but was + uncertain whether to break his revery. The + men watch them in silence._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- + + (_Approaching the lines, his chin still upon + his breast._) + + Something I have to tell you, hitherto, + For his own good, religiously concealed. + For adulation maketh pride to swell + And man becomes an idol. (_Looking up._) + Years ago + A prophesy went sounding down the south + That sent a thrill through Christendom. From Rome + The echo came to us. The rumor ran + That in the Saxon forest lived a boy + Through whom the North should come contrite to God: + A shepherd as was Moses and therefore + Prepared to lead his people. Friar Paul + Was sent to flash the light upon his way + And win him unto Christ, to make his staff + Put forth green Christian buds. With what result + I need not tell you. Few, few men can bear + Honor and the favor of the Most High. He, + Moses himself could not. "Watch Moses now;" + And struck the rock. And then God: "Now watch Me;" + And gave his staff to Joshua. And here + I find a lesson, this: Glory shall pass + From the proud man to the humble man. To-day + I take that prophesy up in _my_ hands + And with it seek the mountains of our God, + And Heathendom shall fall like Jerich-- + + THE MAN--(_Returning._) Says + He don't know which way. Lost him in the dark. + + (_The crowd stands silent, not knowing which way to + go. A woman appears in the doorway._) + + WOMAN--Madam Bacqueur in her swoon hath thrice cried out: + "O keep from the mountains! Look! See there! + The fire of God falls on the hills. See! See!" + + FATHER BENEDICT--The voice of Hell that fears our coming. Woman, + Baths her entranced brows with holy water. + + (_The woman goes back in the church. Jacques speaks + to the Priest._) + + A MAN-- (_After a pause, from the rear line._) + Let's go toward the abbey. + + ANOTHER-- (_In the front line, pointing right._) + This way. + + ANOTHER-- (_Shaking his head, as though fearing the storm._) + No. + + SECOND MAN-- (_Shouting, left._) + Jules! + + (_He walks on a few paces and, frowning with + impatience, beckons in with his arm._) + + FATHER BENEDICT--This is a sudden beam on the dark web. + + JACQUES SAR--And his blood shed down yonder by the + bridge. + + FATHER BENEDICT--And the storm moving toward that mountain top. + + (_To the men._) + + Jacques tells me that our honored bailiff lies + His martial limbs half hanging in the grave. + + JACQUES SAR--I fear the bell will toll 'fore night. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_deeply moved._) + The dead + Soldiers are up to meet their sergeant. + + (_He walks quietly back and climbs the steps._) + + Men, + Wing and wing this terrible morning, fly + Two avenging angels toward one mountain top. + One in his hand two bloody eyeballs bears; + The other, an old man's picture with a wound + Swollen and with Death's finger in it. Fixed + On two eyes are their four eyes. Toward one man + Four wings and two bright swords are on their way. + They light! They beckon me! I see it all! + From two wounds two red trails converge in one! + The hounds that have their noses on the track + Of the brother, had their tongues in Jardin's blood! + _The big white talbot is Canzler!_ + + (_There is a moment's silence so intense that the + wind is heard whistling among the white + crosses in the churchyard. Then a terrible + shout goes up._) + + SHOUTS--Down with him! + To Hell with the hounds! + Lead us! Lead us! + + (_Jacques strikes with his sword and the lines + move swiftly to the left, the direction of + the abbey._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_To himself._) + God's purposes begin where man's prayers end. + + JACQUES SAR-- (_On fire._) + Right about! Face the heathen and face God! + + (_The lines wheel and face right, the direction in + which the storm is moving._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Transported._) + This is most wonderful. Men, Hell hath here + Packed all her seeds in one infernal bloom. + And who knew till this beam fell where to turn? + Henceforth let no man say he knows the way + That God will move on the morrow, for in a flash + The hem of his great garment passeth by. + + (_Bacqueur enters with an armful of swords and + spears. On his left shoulder hangs a great + shield._) + + JACQUES SAR--Here's two men have none. + + CRIES-- Here, Jules! + Hand me one! + + FATHER BENEDICT--(_Half to himself, his face upturned to_ + _the sky._) + What have I done that Thou shouldst honor me + With glory such as no man ever--Nay, + 'Tis not for me this glory is prepared, + For I have ever labored for another. + Thou movest in her and she in me and I + Am but a cloud upon her gale and storm. + Let no man move a foot. I know my time. + You see me but you see not what I see. + God hath arranged to bring us face to face. + This is no combat between merely men. + All Heathendom gives chase in this big hound. + Our brother stands for all men lost to God. + And my hand is the hand of Christendom. + + (_Bacqueur offers him a sword._) + + Nay, I have weapons that ye know not of. + + (_Looking off at the storm._) + + The lightnings whip the foothills and the clouds + Sag with the weight of the wrath of the Lord of Hosts. + + (_His face becomes luminous._) + + Who hears what I hear? Speak out. Then be still. + + (_With an old scarlet flag, amid the folds of which + sections of a white cross are seen, Hugh + Capet comes running in. Seeing the priest + entranced upon the steps and the men hushed + with awe, he checks himself._) + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Lifting his hand, without turning._) + If any man moves I will call down fire. (_A silence._) + To-day the last great tower of Hell goes down. + + (_He comes down the steps._) + + JACQUES SAR-- (_His voice quivering with emotion._) + This banner once waved over Acre, men. + + HUGH CAPET--And we will plant it on Jerusalem. + + SHOUTS--God's with us! God's with us! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Lifting his hand._) + Hear my last word. + + JACQUES SAR-- Silence! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- Let there be + No shouting or any noise. Let us go + Quietly as befits the Sabbath day. + The vales blow white. Yonder the mountains stand + Like quiet altars waiting sacrifice. + You, with the holy banner of God, stand here. + Now if there be among you one who hath + Guilt, looking upon this storm let him step + Out, lay his spear down and stay here and not + Tempt the wrath of God. For soon upon the heights + The heavens shall blacken and there shall be a loud + Burst of His power and the shining glory of God. + I pause a moment. Let that man step out + Now. (_A pause._) + Then you have naught to fear. The innocent + Are safe. God's shield is over them. Come. + + JACQUES SAR--The signal, Father. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- The signal shall be this: + + JACQUES SAR--Attention, men! + + FATHER BENEDICT-- I shall uplift the Christ. + + (_He raises the crucifix._) + + And God, burning the clouds to ashes, will throw + Lightning upon Antichrist. Then you + Charge. (_A roll of thunder._) + The trumpets of the heavenly host. + + JACQUES SAR-- Now, men! + Up with your spears. + + FATHER BENEDICT-- There shall be wonders done. + + (_He starts right, the lines following him._) + + In years to come, men, tell your children this: + When God crowned Benedict upon the heights + It was not Benedict but the Church He crowned. + + (_They go out silent. The scene has become darker + and the wind is heard whistling among the + white crosses in the churchyard. Back in the + church through the open door is seen the + beautifully carven Christ with overhead in_ + _golden letters the inscription: FORGIVE THEM_ + _FOR THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY--. The DO has + never been put on._) + + + _SCENE THREE--The mountain side, as in Scene one of the + third Act. There is heard a steady roar as of wind over + vast forests, and all about are signs of an approaching_ + _storm. At intervals an unnatural, ghastly light as from + rifted clouds swiftly driving overhead passes across the + scene. In a moment the gloom has returned and the trees are + racing back into the shadow._ + + _Back upon the ledge, his long yellow hair tossing in the_ + _wind, stands Rudolph watching the gathering of the storm._ + + RUDOLPH-- (_To himself._) + Flying on starless wings the Powers of night + Keep back the bird of morning till the Norns + Have traced the lines of guilt and set the snare. + + (_A moment later Canzler appears coming down the + sheep-path._) + + CANZLER--What was that shouting down the mountain for? + + RUDOLPH-- (_Turning quickly._) + The whirling of the wheel! + + CANZLER-- The wheel? + + RUDOLPH-- (_Hurrying forward._) + Look there + Where the vast felly flies! Far out it swings + And sways the forests. Look at it, Canzler! + For miles around below the mountain heads + The storm goes racing in a wheel whose hub + Turns on the village spire. + + (_Canzler follows him back along the ledge._) + + Awhile ago, + Divinely guided through the mountain ways, + A common cloud, afloat upon the dark, + Blotted the stars that glimmered in the tarn + And whirled into a wheel. Around the rim + Flows the white cloud-wool, and a thread is drawn + Under the hills. The distaffs of the Norns + Grow big with fate, and, sitting there in silence, + Their withered fingers from this flying skein + Loop off the lives of men. Val-father takes + In his almighty hand the reins of things + And drives them either way through earth and air. + + (_Shouting far down the mountain._) + + CANZLER--I heard that far up on the mountain tops. + + RUDOLPH--In some procession honoring their god. + + CANZLER--But louder now. + + RUDOLPH-- And nearer. + + CANZLER-- Where is Fritz? + + RUDOLPH--Rounding the sheep up. (_Shouting again._) + They have crossed the bridge. + + CANZLER-- (_Turning and looking at Rudolph._) + Honoring their god upon the mountain side? + + RUDOLPH--'Tis the great dragon crawling through the hills. + + CANZLER--No wonder darkness fills the valley. + + (_After a pause_.) + + And in a storm like this! + + RUDOLPH-- Hunger. + + CANZLER-- No doubt. + And there is hunger in the heavens, too. + + RUDOLPH--And the two face. (_They listen._) + The Asas all night long + Were loud above the mountains as though some + Vast purpose long pent up were finding way. + + CANZLER--And Selma heard it like a river flow + Washing the peaks and down the wooded slopes + Into the valley where the dragon lies. + + (_Shouts still afar but growing nearer._) + + That belly levels all things in the plain. (_Thunder._) + + RUDOLPH--Val-father's voice from out the clouds mid-air + Meets with the dragon's voice and devours it. Hark! + + CANZLER--It may lay hands on Fritz. + + (_He goes back along the ledge and starts down the + mountain._) + + RUDOLPH-- Be careful, chief! + The wheel moves this way. + + CANZLER-- It is following them. + + RUDOLPH--Here he comes running up the mountain! + + CANZLER-- Where? + + RUDOLPH--Wait till the lightning shows the slopes again. + + (_They listen. The shouts draw nearer._) + + CANZLER--The Bailiff's blood has roused them. + + RUDOLPH-- With that blood + Val-father has enticed it from its lair + To tempt the mountains and to seek for more. + + (_Lightning._) + + Up here! Coming up here! + + CANZLER--(_Shouting._) Fritz! + + RUDOLPH-- The dark bloom, + Whose scattered roots the years have fed, at last + Unfolds its petals to the sun. The North + In all her graves is waiting for the dawn. + To-day Val-father lays his shadow by. + + CANZLER--Go up the rocks and blow the battle horn. + + (_Rudolph goes leaping up the rocks._) + + And let the battle cry be "Dachtelfeld"! + + RUDOLPH--The peaks are tipped with day! + + (_He disappears up the rocks._) + + VOICE OF SELMA--(_Above._) Where are you, Father? + + (_Lightning._) + + CANZLER--Stay from the timber! Don't get near the trees! + + (_Thunder._) + + Stay in the open, Selma! + + (_The form of Canzler, who stands back upon the + ledge, disappears in the gathering gloom._) + + VOICE OF SELMA-- Father! + + VOICE OF FRITZ--(_Down the mountain._) Chief! + + (_There is heard, at first scarcely audible but + rising more and more, low music as of spirit + voices. Above, just where the sheep-path + enters the bushes, Selma appears coming_ + _hurriedly down. Hearing the music, she stops + and, listening, becomes as one entranced._) + + SELMA-- (_Almost in a whisper._) + Father! + + (_Canzler comes forward into view. The girl, still + transported and more like a being of the air, + has come further down the path._) + + Oh, hear them! + + CANZLER-- Go back, go back, child! + They shall not harm you. (_She rushes to him._) + They will not come up here. + + (_The girl lays her hand on his arm. They listen._) + + Only Val-father's voice along the storm. + + VOICE OF FRITZ--Chief! + + CANZLER-- It is Fritz. + + SELMA--- The trees--the trees are singing. + The wild vines and the mountain flowers--Oh! + O Father, see! + + CANZLER-- What ails you, child? + + SELMA--The elves--the storm elves gather in the air, + And up the mountain there-- + Hear them, Father! Hear the fairies calling! + Oh, the white flakes! The dog-wood blooms are falling! + + (_She runs wildly up the path._) + + He's coming, Father! Oswald's coming! + + (_She disappears among the bushes. In the rear + Fritz is seen climbing up the mountain._) + + FRITZ-- (_Who goes leaping on up the rocks._) + Chief! + + CANZLER--Here I am. + + (_Fritz leaps back down to the ledge and comes + hurrying forward._) + + FRITZ-- (_Out of breath._) + They've killed--they've killed the sheep! + Like hungry dogs. It's us they're after, though. + Dashed in and slashed them with their swords. Hear that! + + (_Wild shouting below._) + + That's for our blood. (_They listen._) + If we don't arm, chief,-- + CANZLER-- Hark! + + FRITZ-- (_After a pause._) + If we don't arm-- + + (_Up the mountain sounds the battle horn._) + + To have lived to see this day! + + (_He hurries up the path and disappears._) + + CANZLER--Val-father's winds have blown them here to die. + + (_He goes up the path. The music is now distinctly + heard above the noise of the storm. A flash + of lightning reveals, in the rear, the dwarf + climbing up the mountain, leading Oswald + by the hand. Instantly loud and prolonged_ + _shouting bursts up from about a hundred feet_ + _below. The two come hurrying forward along + the ledge. Oswald's face is streaked with + blood and from the end of its black cord, his + silver crucifix, likewise stained, dangles + almost to his knees. Gradually it slips lower + and lower till it finally falls and lies upon + the grass. Having reached the path, they make + their way up and are soon lost to view. That + peculiar light which one sometimes sees when + clouds are rifted during a storm illumines + the scene and makes the green grass and trees + show almost like flame. Below, voices are + heard, and soon, climbing up the mountain, + Father Benedict appears, his face pale, his + eyes set before him. Upon the skirt of his + snow-white chasuble there is seen, slanting_ + _down, a red streak as though he had pressed + against a bloody sword-blade. Behind him, + scattered, come, first, Hugh Capet with the + great flag blown straight out in the wind, + then Jules Bacqueur and Jacques Sar, their + swords dripping, and, after them, the other + villagers._) + + JULES BACQUEUR--Straight ahead. Father! Straight ahead! + + A VOICE-- (_From below._) + See them, Hugh? + + JACQUES SAR--You come on; we'll find them. + + (_Instead of coming forward to the path, which the + bushes and bowlders hide from their view, + they go pushing straight on up the rocks._) + + HUGH CAPET--Come on, men! + + JACQUES SAR--Stay together, men! (_A pause._) + Hold her low, Phil! + + (_Up the mountain sounds the battle-horn._) + + CRIES--Hear that! Hear that! + + JACQUES SAR--Don't get scared, men! + + CRIES--Don't get scared! Don't get scared! + + A VOICE--God's with us! + + ALL--God's with us! God's with us! + + HUGH CAPET--Come on, men! + + JACQUES SAR--Wait for the signal! Wait for the signal, men! + + (_All look to the priest._) + + Now then. + + JULES BACQUEUR--Now, Father. + + A VOICE--Now. (_A pause._) + + HUGH CAPET--Signal! signal! + + (_Above, sounds the battle-horn, this time nearer._) + + JACQUES SAR--Now! + + JULES BACQUEUR--Now then! + + CRIES--Now! Now! NOW! + + (_Slowly the priest lifts the crucifix._) + + ALL--God's with us! God's with us! + + (_They go springing up the mountain. A flash of + lightning strikes the uplifted crucifix + and clings for a moment like a wreath of + blue fire round the brow of the priest whose_ + _face shows white as chalk. The crucifix slips + from his fingers and he reels and falls + backwards._) + + CRIES--Men! Men! Men! + + (_As the men turn and see the priest, whom Jules + has caught in his arms, borne backward down + the slope, some of them throw down their + arms and flee terror-stricken down the + mountain. There is a loud crash of thunder_ + _followed, above, by the shouts of the Saxons + who come charging down upon them. Attempting + to rescue the priest's body, before which + Bacqueur has thrown his great shield, the + villagers receive the shock and are driven + back fighting down the mountain, Fritz hacking_ + _at Hugh Capet's head-with his battle ax, + Rudolph charging old Jacques, while Canzler + with one slash of his magic sword slices in + two Bacqueur's great shield which falls like + paper from his hands. Even after they have_ + _disappeared, from down the mountain can still + be heard the voice of old Jacques calling to + his men in God's name to stand. Up the slope, + caught in the bushes where it fell, hangs the + crucifix, the figure of which is tarnished + and melted by the lightning. On the ledge_ + _just below, outstretched upon the grass, + his fingers bent as though still clutching + the crucifix, lies the body of the priest. + The scene gradually becomes darker and the_ + _thunder is still heard reverberating through + the mountains._) + + + _SCENE FOUR--A forest on the mountain tops. Untouched by the + storm, which has swept the lower slopes, the trees here + stand calm and motionless. Flowers are everywhere. Far off, + between the innumerable trunks, is seen a space of dark sky + rifted near the horizon and bright with the red and gold of + the new dawn. From the left, into this forest stillness, + silent as the scene itself, comes the dwarf leading Oswald + by the hand. There is now no blood upon the latter's + face which, slightly upturned, is lighted as with a soul + conscious of a great crisis and hearing its approach in the + least noise. Suddenly, from far to the right, the voice of + Selma is heard. Instantly the dwarf vanishes. Oswald starts + and stands as one in a dream._ + + SELMA-- + + (_At first afar, then drawing nearer and nearer + until at last she rushes in gleefully. She + is dressed, as in the first Act, in green, + and upon her head she wears a coronet of_ + _wild-flowers._) + + Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! + + (_She starts, and throws herself at his feet, + covering her face with her hands. The disc of + the sun, emerging above the line of clouds, + shoots its myriad golden needles through the + wood. Revealed in the light, like things seen + in a mirage, a number of fairies are discerned_ + _watching the two. From far down the mountain + comes the sound of a bell tolling._) + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + + Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were + silently corrected. + + Punctuation normalized. + + Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed. + + Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_. + + Greek text is transliterated and enclosed in #number symbols#. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Saxons, by Edwin Davies Schoonmaker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAXONS *** + +***** This file should be named 47241-8.txt or 47241-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/2/4/47241/ + +Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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margin-left: 4.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Saxons, by Edwin Davies Schoonmaker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + +Title: The Saxons + A Drama of Christianity in the North + +Author: Edwin Davies Schoonmaker + +Release Date: October 30, 2014 [EBook #47241] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAXONS *** + + + + +Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="transnote covernote"> + <p>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="titlepage"> + + + + +<h1>THE SAXONS<br /> + +<span class="large">A DRAMA OF CHRISTIANITY IN THE NORTH</span></h1> + + +<p class="xlarge">BY EDWIN DAVIES SCHOONMAKER</p> + +<p>THE HAMMERSMARK PUBLISHING<br /> +COMPANY, CHICAGO. ILL., 1905 +</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, FEBRUARY, 1905,<br /> +BY<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Hammersmark Publishing Co.</span><br /> +CHICAGO</p> + +<div class="figcenter" > +<img src="images/saxonsdramaofchr00scho_0010.png" width="64" height="26" alt="" /> +<div class="caption"><p>JOHN F. HIGGINS PRINT 279-251 EAST MONROE ST</p></div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">TO MY MOTHER +</p> +<p> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> + +<a href="#PERSONS_OF_THE_DRAMA">PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_ONE">ACT ONE.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_TWO">ACT TWO.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_THREE">ACT THREE.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_FOUR">ACT FOUR.</a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_FIVE">ACT FIVE.</a><br /> +<a href="#Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber's Notes:</a><br /> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="PERSONS_OF_THE_DRAMA" id="PERSONS_OF_THE_DRAMA">PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.</a></h2> + + +<p>THE SAXON UNIT.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>, chief of the Saxons.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>, a shepherd.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Max</span>, } foresters.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>, an old man.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>, a gleeman.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>, a shepherd, afterward a monk.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Selma</span>, daughter of Canzler.</li> +</ul> + + +<p>THE ROMAN UNIT.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>, the village priest.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Father Paul</span>, a friar.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>, the bailiff.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>, an old crusader.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>, the smith.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>, the barber.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>, wife of Jules Bacqueur.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>, a country woman.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>, aunt of Madam Valmy.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rosa</span>, granddaughter of Rachel.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">A Boy.</span></li> +</ul> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + + +<p>THE GREEK UNIT.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">The Abbot of St. Giles.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Louis</span>, the prior of the abbey.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>, the sacristan.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>, an old acolyte.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ely</span>, the porter.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Simon</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rene</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Basil</span>, } monks.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Leo</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Guido</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Macias</span>, a hunter attached to the abbey.</li> +</ul> + + +<p>THE SUPERNATURAL.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Sigurd</span>, apparently a dwarf, really something else.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hulga</span>, a witch.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Zip</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>, } gnomes.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Suk</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Zory</span>, }</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fairies.</span></li> +</ul> + +<p class="center">Other foresters, monks and villagers, men and women. +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i30">As for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let a man be a man. Outside of that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no power on earth that dares ask more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No power in heaven that will.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<p class="ph1">THE SAXONS</p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_ONE" id="ACT_ONE">ACT ONE.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—A road through a forest. On either side</i> +<i>trees stand thick and dark. Immediately in front the light</i> +<i>sifts down upon a rude bridge spanning a narrow stream.</i> +<i>At the roadside, to the right, a large crucifix, apparently</i> +<i>new, stands upon a post some ten feet in height. It is</i> +<i>elaborately carved and is set in a deep frame to protect it</i> +<i>from the weather. At the foot of the post, cut into the</i> +<i>mossy bank which slopes toward the road, is a kneeling</i> +<i>place with a white sheep's pelt lying upon it.</i></p> + +<p><i>A sound of voices is heard. Fritz and Rudolph enter</i> +<i>from the left and pause where a path leads off through</i> +<i>the wood. The latter has an ax upon his shoulder. Far in</i> +<i>the forest a faint sound of chopping is heard.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—Mid-day in summer, in the early part of the thirteenth</i> +<i>century.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—He's worth six.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— I'll give you five, you pick them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—I'll pick six.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— I'll keep my ewes, then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And walk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the mountains?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We have not gone yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— But—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And if I had my way we would not go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Nor would we go had I mine, Fritz. But we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have not our way. The dragon has his way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As far as Niflheim the North is red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Are we their sheep that we must follow them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or be hung up on trees?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— He follows us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Who do these woods belong to, anyhow?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Where a man puts his foot the dragon puts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His belly, and the man's track disappears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the tree that has not felt the storm?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have they not disappeared? Like leaves the tribes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are scattered.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It has blown down trunk and all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Forests and rivers and ten thousand graves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie under that red paw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It stains the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The Weser rolls down bodies to the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their yellow hair is matted in the Rhine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deer that drinks the Aller in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starts back from bloody faces in the stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are our fathers, Fritz, who cannot sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While this coiled Hunger tracks us toward the north.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And we must feed it, eh? We must grub roots,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fatten ourselves on acorns in the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As swine do, and then waddle to the swamp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stuff its belly so that it will sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trouble us no more, we must do that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—No; we must leave, and starve it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It don't starve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More hunger means more flesh. Let's feed it steel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Steel draws the blood and brings the hunger on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Then draw the life. We don't feed it enough.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—It eats the blade—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Then feed it hilt and all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—It eats our swords and they come out in claws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Canzler says, a thousand spears have but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peeled off its poisonous scales, and where they fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A deadly fire burns and the elves die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—We will call Wittikind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— From out the grave?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—His spirit will hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Wittikind was baptized.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—His head was baptized, but his heart was not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few drops here could not put out a fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That scarred and seamed the dragon till it lashed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maddened and bleeding, all the tribes away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spark of him is in this forest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Oswald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Silent and shy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Their fate whom Woden loves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He homes the lightning in the silent cloud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Weak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— In himself, but strong by prophesy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Can you or I or chief hasten the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein Val-father's voice shall wake the North?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What man can say unto the lightning, "Leap"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Woden's race, a million summer leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are, as it were, the winter mistletoe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lone green sprig with barren woods all round.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can we shake off the snow and say, "Appear,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the young race asleep within the trees?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cry out above the dragon winter, "Die"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot hurry in its growth one leaf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet you would thrust a sword in Oswald's hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking to hurry Prophesy along.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If naked strength can save us, why not chief's?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why Oswald, if the battle is to be now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the aid of Woden, he is naught.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Without it, naught, and with it, everything.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Val-father calls to-day then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Wiglaf's ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are where the whispers of the dead go by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Heard he the word, "to-day"?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And Wiglaf's eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blazed glee-fire and his lips spake Woden's word:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"In him shall be the strength of all your dead."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—In Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— In the seed of Wittikind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall make the whole North green."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— The "seed" of.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—There, Fritz, is where the whole great purpose turns.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Prophesy, you see, walks in the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man can say on whom it will lay its hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Why?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Would not Oswald's seed be Wittikind's?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you not see that some child still unborn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The issue of Oswald's loins, may be the one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take the sword that Woden will hand down?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile, suppose the Christians hear of this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their spies are all about us.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Dropping his voice and pointing to the bridge.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">Who knows?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—(<i>After looking under it.</i>) No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Suppose they once get rumor of it. Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suppose they torture Wiglaf for the rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not a thousand trumpets sound the chase?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will they not beat the forest through and through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set fire to it, and when the stag appears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall breed the fawn shall grow the golden horns—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As though drawing back a bow-string and letting spring</i> +<i>the arrow.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then what? What then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— We—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We have our swords.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—We have them now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And we can keep them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— We<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can neither keep our swords nor keep ourselves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who is it plants the white cross in our land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Frank? The Wend? The Saxon; we ourselves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No; in that fire that burns up from the south<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thousands of our swords have melted and become<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scales on the dragon's back and teeth and claws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That now tear out our hearts. To-day swords strike<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Woden, and to-morrow the strange god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those same swords storms Valhal, and lays low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its golden roof. Our ash Iggdrasil dies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its beautiful leaves fall far off on the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Let's kill the worm that bites it, then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— That worm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath bit the Northman and the Northman bites<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A crash is heard in the forest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It was the tree fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— So falls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Iggdrasil and the golden roof comes down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the North bites, Val-father dies. No, Fritz;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The South has thrown a snake upon the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in its trail no fairy can be found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, too, have gone to the mountains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Leave our homes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—For all of us it will be better there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slopes are thickly clothed with oak and pine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, too, your flock will find good grazing, Fritz.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conrad and I saw ledges thick with grass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—It's thick here, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And torrents tumbling down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill to the brim the basins of the rocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, in the dryest season—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Look down here. <span class="directline">(<i>He points down in the stream.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And this mid-summer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And game is plentiful.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—It's plentiful here, too; deer and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Chamois<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wild-goats browsing on the crags.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are wild-boars' lairs and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— The dragon's den.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—His den is here, but he feeds everywhere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Not on the mountains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— They are barren; but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would feed there if we should go there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—He ravages the whole wide—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Moving his hand horizontally.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i43">This way, yes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that way?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pointing up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">No. He dare not face the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That father Woden pours upon the peaks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under Valhalla's eaves the dark elf died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the dawn smote him; so the dragon there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His paws would break off on the mountain sides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—We will stay here and cut them off.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Those paws?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those huge, red, century-scarred paws? With what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—They want our woods and crofts, that's what they want.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The Saxon sword is broken. The great shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That covered all the North lies in the loam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rusting, and the wild-flowers eat its stains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are our fathers, Fritz? Heimdall, who sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All races, sees not anywhere that race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stood at bay when Swabian went down,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Frank and Bavarian and the great North fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A paw was put upon its breast and lo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is scattered, blood and bones and heart and brain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hand is here; its heart is in the north;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its head far off an island in the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its blood is everywhere, in grass, in leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its flesh still fronts the dragon in these trees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And we, we men—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Our time has not yet come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Must be the feet and run, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— We must wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the heart calls from the silent north.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Wait?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— You would have us—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— If we are the hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the hand strikes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Without the head? No, Fritz;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must delay our battle with the beast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A new shield we will shape us on the heights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Temper it in the flashes of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And boss it with the terror of the grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mountain metal on the mountain tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New armor we will forge. Let the old shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie here upon the plain, covering the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the leaves cover it. And for the sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That broken lies between the dragon's paws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father will reach down and put the hilt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some great Fafnir's-bane in Canzler's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler, in turn, in Oswald's when he weds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Oswald and the girl will pass it on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down to the hand of that child—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Canzler go?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Whom Woden shall bid seek the dragon's den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Siegfried of the North shall slay the snake.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler will not go. Canzler!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— He will go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler will lay him in the grave first.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Fritz,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who calls the fairies?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— What of that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Witchcraft.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—You mean that they will burn her?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Do they not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burn witches in the city...? We can die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We on our swords can perish; but the girl...?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes off through the wood, leaving Fritz silent upon the bridge.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler will lay his sword upon her throat.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With bowed head he walks on across the bridge. As he</i> +<i>passes into the deeper shadows the white sheep's pelt</i> +<i>lying in the bank at the roadside catches his eye. He</i> +<i>goes curiously toward it, when, seeing the post, he</i> +<i>glances up and stops suddenly. For a time he stands as</i> +<i>one appalled.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rudolph!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Ho!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Here!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">(<i>To himself.</i>) This will break Canzler's heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph reappears and joins Fritz, and the two stand in</i> +<i>silence, Rudolph with his eyes fixed upon the crucifix,</i> +<i>and Fritz with his eyes on Rudolph.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—What do you think?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— It was put up last night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—You still think we should leave here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Still think?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Can there be any doubt of what this means?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Almost its eyeballs gleam between the trees.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And if we leave here, what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— We bear away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some far mountain nest our eagle's egg.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We save our hope.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz points to the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">Only proves what I say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis some poor burgher who refused to bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would not leave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz goes toward the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i23">And they have put it up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mock us with the pains they will make us feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we don't bow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Bending over the pelt.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i17">Knee prints. He has knelt here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knelt here and prayed—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Coming back to the road.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">to Woden, do you think?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know the hand that carved that?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph goes closer and scrutinizes the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i39">Your great sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is it now, Rudolph? the Fafnir's-bane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father should reach down to Canzler's hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whose hand will the chief's hand pass it now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the dragon's belly will he come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Siegfried, with the great heart of the beast?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hope, our eagle's egg, where is it now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—It can't be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Fritz</i>— Can't be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Rudolph</i>— Can't be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Fritz</i>— But it is.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At dusk last night I saw him in the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he was wending this way carrying that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there are knee-prints on it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i33">And that thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What other hand could have carved out that brow<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And laid that sorrow there? Look at those knees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—This is why he has shunned us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Say no word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Canzler about this or to the girl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never will she be happy any more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will leave now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Contemplating the knee-prints.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i19">Under Val-father's trees!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler has been a father to the boy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph comes toward the road, then turns and looks back</i> +<i>at the Christ.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So Balder looked lying on Valhal floor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the men hear this, they will vote to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—He must go quietly and no word be said.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They walk together along the road.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—The way he goes, the Saxon race has gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—We must go to the mountains, not the grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler has been a father to the boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—He may return and bring the Saxon race.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Who will deliver him?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Val-father lives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—(<i>Bitterly.</i>) Lives with the dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— He may yet be reclaimed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The paths of Prophesy lead far away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the Powers of the air are bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guide it and their eyes are on its feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us not doubt Val-father's hand in this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That eye in Mimer's fountain sees through all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark, gnome-haunted caverns of the earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other under his calm brow watches heaven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes off through the forest.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—Under an old beech in the edge of the</i> +<i>forest. A knoll, like the toe of a large boot shoved in</i> +<i>from the rear, butts squarely against the trunk. Up under</i> +<i>the boughs, left, lies a decaying log with here and there</i> +<i>a tuft of rank grass growing from the cores of old knots.</i> +<i>Beside it is a small basket filled with berries. At the</i> +<i>foot of the beech, bubbles a spring partly walled in with</i> +<i>dark mossy rocks, on top of which lies a brown gourd</i> +<i>dipper. Two worn foot-paths, one winding up the slope</i> +<i>into the forest, the other entering from the left, meet at</i> +<i>the spring. The ground is checkered with flakes of sunlight</i> +<i>that fall through the leaves, and over all is the silence</i> +<i>of the summer noon.</i></p> + +<p><i>A crackle is heard as of a dry twig breaking under foot.</i> +<i>The branches on the left swing apart and Selma pushes</i> +<i>through backwards. She is a fairy-like creature dressed</i> +<i>in green. Her hair falls loose about her shoulders and</i> +<i>upon her head she wears a coronet of wild-flowers. Holding</i> +<i>the boughs slightly apart, she stands peering intently</i> +<i>to the left, then, turning quickly, she snatches up the basket</i> +<i>and hides it behind the log, and after picking a few green</i> +<i>burrs from the branches above her, darts to the right and</i> +<i>conceals herself behind the trunk. For a time she stands</i> +<i>motionless. Then, as if upon second thought, she stoops</i> +<i>and removes the dipper from the rocks.</i></p> + +<p><i>Along the foot-path, leading in from the left, Oswald enters.</i> +<i>He stops and looks back and for a time stands thus, as one</i> +<i>undecided, a forlorn expression upon his face. He then</i> +<i>turns and proceeds to the spring. Not finding the dipper,</i> +<i>he lays aside his staff and hat, and stretches himself</i> +<i>out upon the flat stone at the entrance of the spring.</i> +<i>While he is drinking, Selma leans cautiously from behind</i> +<i>the trunk and raises her arm as if to drop something.</i> +<i>Having evidently seen her shadow in the water, Oswald</i> +<i>glances up, but seeing no one, lies down again and drinks.</i> +<i>From behind the hole Selma tosses a burr into the spring.</i> +<i>Oswald continues to drink. Finally he rises, and, taking</i> +<i>up his hat and staff, goes up the slope and sits down upon</i> +<i>the log. The girl moves stealthily around the trunk.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Selma. <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">Selma. I saw you in the spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I'm there yet, then; you didn't take me out.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She comes round the side of the trunk opposite the log and,</i> +<i>stooping over, looks down into the spring.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O you should see the fishes! two, three, four,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A troop of them! O Oswald, come and see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They're round a splash of sunlight in the spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how they twinkle and in the current stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their little crimson fins. Ah, I've scared them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I really did; I scared them with my hair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how it fell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She points to a mass of hair that has fallen past her cheek.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">It would not hurt them, though.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must be still; we must not say a word.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never will play if they see us looking.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Oswald points down into the spring.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That little green thing? That's a beech-nut burr.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I threw it in to scare the water-sprite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That looked up at you when you stooped to drink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You did not see her? Oh, I did. I peeped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like this, softly, over, over the edge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw her peeping from the mossy stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the spring. Her hair was loose like mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brown as buckeyes, and her lips were stained<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With juice of berries. Then I raised my hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinks I: "I'll drop a beech-nut on his head."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she raised hers as if to say: "Be still!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll make the bubbles break against his nose."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was that what made you jump? You scared her so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw her hair fly up about her face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I leaped back. She lives down in the spring.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +<span class="i0">This morning as I passed I stooped and said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I'm going after berries; won't you come?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She beckoned to me, too, and seemed to say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I can't leave home; my little fish will stray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You come down here; I have some pretty shells."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, look! Be still! She's let them come again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See them flash.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It's the green shell they're after.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—Why, there's no kernel in it. If there were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They could not eat it; it would break their gills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are so very thin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— We all do that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We follow shells sometimes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— O Oswald, look!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how the little silver bubbles rise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—And we are like the fishes—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Oh, do look!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are not thinking of the fishes. See!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They follow it through the dimples round and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paddling the current with their little fins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And poising. They're afraid. They're drawing back.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, by the green stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— They are safer there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than in the current.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— See, there's one that still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nips at it in the eddies. See its scales.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot carve like that. Look out! Oh, oh!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She runs down to the outlet of the spring by which the</i> +<i>minnow has passed out, and walks up and down, stooping</i> +<i>occasionally to feel among the stones of the rill.</i> +<i>Oswald goes back and sits down upon the log. After</i> +<i>a while Selma rises and looks toward the spring. The</i> +<i>trunk is between her and Oswald.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twill grieve her so.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In a low chant, abstractedly.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">She's sleeping in the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the dark rock where the white sand pours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moss is softer in the forest there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there the wood-doves coo.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's going away; they told me yesterday.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forest heard them moan: He will not come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chestnut burr shall break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild bird, feeding, shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unpicked the purple hartcrops to the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hushed forest only hear the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of antlers knocking where the wild deer rubs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's going away—away—away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Staring vacantly into the forest, her back to Oswald, she</i> +<i>unconsciously picks the green burrs from the branches</i> +<i>above her.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Selma. <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i17">Come here; will you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— I'm gathering mast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fawns, they like it so. It makes them sleek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I want to tell you something.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Tell me here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I had listened to the forest birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd have no berries. And my fawns must eat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—'Tis something serious.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Ah, you've been to town.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As she saunters toward the log she reaches up in the air.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gossamers, where do they come from, Oswald?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never are gay when you've heard the bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are going to the mountains, <i>may</i> be. Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will not hear them. Are there berries there?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rudolph said he saw flowers in the ice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of that. Blue-bells.—You are like my crow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She takes a berry from her basket and holds it up between</i> +<i>her fingers.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If you will talk, you may.—I must go home.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She pulls down a bough and begins to pick the leaves off,</i> +<i>one by one.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I want you to go with me to the bridge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I can't. I must go home. Father will think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been captured by the villagers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She removes her basket from the sun and lays the leaves</i> +<i>upon her berries.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said: "You will not find them." But I did.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Sit down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— I can't.—It makes my berries red.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father will say: "You see? They are not ripe."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She goes about under the boughs selecting the largest of</i> +<i>the leaves.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It makes them black, then makes them red again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After a pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>I</i> heard bells ring last night. I dreamed I did.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I called and they called and you would not come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought you could not hear me where you were.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—In a great forest once two children lived.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They used to wander about the wood. One day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Playing among the trees, suddenly they heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Small voices calling: "Ho, children!" At that—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—Fairies. <span class="directline">(<i>She comes to the log.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— The children rose wide-eyed and let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fall the wild-flowers they had gathered and stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listening. Again the cry: "Ho, children!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma sits down.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i54">Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, hand in hand, slowly, and half afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moved forward, and the voices, as they moved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moved onward, sometimes above them in the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing, and sometimes in the fernshaws: "Ho,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here we are!" And then a wisp of sun-bright hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flashed in the deeper shadows of the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The children, shouting, "Catch her! There she goes!"<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Darted in glee from trunk to trunk. At last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voices died away. The children saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great trees glooming round them—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Oh, I know!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cried themselves to sleep, for they were lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the birds brought leaves and—Didn't they?<br /></span> +<span class="i52">No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—As night came on, the elder of them, a boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering to have heard a holy man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak of a house—a holy house—where men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live as the angels live—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Went there?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— To pray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pray for help.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— For the other child?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— For her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—What did the fairies do?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— But ere he went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carved with his knife upon a tree a sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A good man in the wood had taught him, a charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the spirit of the forest. Then he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told her strange words to say and leaving her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kneeling upon the moss, her little hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folded, he went away. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i23">Not for himself.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—And did he not come back? Tell me the rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Come with me to the bridge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— Did he come back?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I have carved a charm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— A charm?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— For you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— For me?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where are you going, Oswald?—(<i>A pause.</i>) See my hair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should it scare the fishes? You are wise;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Why should it, Oswald? It is soft as hers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the spring, and if you'll come and look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll see the smallest minnows twinkle there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They do not fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It is a snare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Naively.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i44">Is it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not harm them, Oswald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Father Paul says<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the snare of Satan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— I know him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not my hair he uses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With horror.</i>) Know Satan! <span class="directline">(<i>He turns away.</i>)<br /></span></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I did not know his name was—Ah, you run!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are just like the fishes. Come and play.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not let it fall. <span class="directline">(<i>Throwing back her hair.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">I will just peep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the edge.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Going up the slope to where the boughs hang low, she</i> +<i>begins to gather the green burrs. While she gathers</i> +<i>them, she sings:</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>Hark, shepherd, hark; the forest calls</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Away to the greenwood still.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>We'll leave the dewy wether-bell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>To tinkle on the hill.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>Our ewes shall nibble gowan;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>We'll gipsy in the wood;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Our bed shall be the wild plush moss;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Our cruse shall be the flood.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>The lush blue whortle-berries</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>We'll gather eve and morn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>And we'll wander where the brocket</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Rubs the velvet from his horn.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i14"><i>Come, shepherd, come</i>—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will not sing; the shepherd will not come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll go and call the forest children. <span class="directline">(<i>She takes up her basket.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Selma.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—Night-bird hooting at noon!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Listen to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I'll listen to the jay; he's merrier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—You are not of the witches that at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly through the air to that far windy crag<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That beetles o'er the foam of the wild sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, with orgies lewd to the black goat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whirl in the revel with dark Barrabam?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—There is no fairy with a name like that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—He is the prince of fairies and of fiends.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father Paul says that oft on stormy nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When stars scarce venture to the brink of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witches go down the sky scattering fogs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diseases, blights, and death, and with them go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those whom their cursed arts have wrought upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To taste the air of Hell. Far in the West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every quarter of the earth and sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from those awful rivers, they assemble<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hold their sabbaths on a windy cliff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A headland hanging over the edge of the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About whose base an ocean bellows so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nothing dares approach save frenzied things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, while the moon protrudes an awful horn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off at sea and rocks among the waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They curse God's watchful planets from the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lead their converts, dizzy with the brew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trample on the blood of Christ and swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve the arch-demon who is known to them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Barrabam. A while ago you said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You did not know his name as Satan. Selma,—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—You said he used my hair, but 'tis not mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other day I saw him in the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snaring the silver chubs. Said he: "My lass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll give two shiners for a lock of hair."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To snare the fishes with! You horrid man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not give it." And I ran away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not my hair he uses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Aside.</i>) What a child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walking in darkness to the Tempter's snare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I would die for you!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— You run away. <span class="directline">(<i>He looks at her.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot guess what I found in the wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—You do not know what danger you are in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I know the ground-bird lays five speckled eggs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That filberts wear green hoods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Oh, what of that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What will that profit in the Judgment Day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have not been baptized. You do not hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The terrible, terrible, groanings of the lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O God, you do not know, you do not know!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I know the wood-pink is the first to wake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the flowers. I know where king-cups grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wink-a-peeps that sleep when days are dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know when shadows lie beneath the boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they do now, I know you'll never find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A squirrel or chipmunk out in all the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then the forest sleeps. And I know where—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—O Selma, listen to me just this once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then forever listen to the years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give back the echo of this golden hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you remember that day in the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we were gathering may-apples? You ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouting: "Here is a large one," and you stooped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pick it, when a snake coiled round the stalk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hissed at you and you started back in fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had it not hissed you never would have known<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That it was there, so green it was, so like<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stalk it coiled about. You saw that one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because it hissed. But one that hisses not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is coiled about the world, as like the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As was the green one to the may-flower stalk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I have heard father speak of it. He says<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it is full of bones.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— And souls of men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only in holy houses are we safe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—He said that I should not go near the village<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gathering berries.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— 'Tis the serpent Sin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, how its sting has marred the perfect world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ready to spring, the fiends couch for us. We<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are hunted, Father Paul says, through the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As was the deer the good saint saved, Saint Giles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men are fleeing from the wrath to come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—It cannot come up on the mountain tops.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Fervently.</i>) Call on the Virgin. Yield to Lord Jesus.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not reject him. Be baptized. Be saved.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you not see that I would die for you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Selma, playmate, loved one, promise me—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I will not eat May-apples any more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Oh, not to understand and yet be lost!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks away.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I will not eat them, Oswald. I will not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go near them if you do not wish me to.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Some day you will know why.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(<i>He takes up his staff.</i>) Then you will know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not for myself. You will know why.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stops near the spring.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You will remember this—this day—these leaves—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden sunlight on the waters there—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thoughtfully, looking down into the spring.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And never will come back forevermore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">SELMA</span>—Oh, yes it will. They will not let her grieve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairies, when they trip the wood to-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will miss her, for she dances with them there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, you should see them, Oswald. When they dance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is no bigger than the fairies are.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see them swing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, 'tis a sight to make the wood-dove gay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Circling round in a dance.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>Lightly whirling round and round</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Through the forest, scarcely shaking</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Flower stalk upon the ground.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>In the leaves the violets waking</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Scatter perfume. Fairies, bow;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Lift their purple hoods and kiss them.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Join the dance and leave them now.</i> <span class="directline">(<i>Ecstatically.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One night up in the wood, when silver flakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were dancing with the fairies on the moss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An owl whooped. The fairies scampered off<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the ferns. The little water elf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found up close against a gnarled oak trunk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hid in a moss-pink in a drop of dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, she was tiny as a fairykin!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hair was scattered, she was frightened so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You should have seen her how she looked at me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if to say: "You here!" I nod, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We laugh together, thinking of the trick<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The surly owl played. <span class="directline">(<i>Again she circles round in a dance.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>With horror.</i>) This is enchantment!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the cursed spells of forest devils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witchcraft and Barrabam, the broth of Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild mountain and the swirling sea!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Advancing toward her, he reaches into his bosom and</i> +<i>fetches forth a large silver crucifix fastened to a black</i> +<i>string that encircles his neck.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Selma, touch this, touch this and say with me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pater noster</i>—" come—"<i>qui es in coelis</i>—"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Still dancing.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I don't know what it means.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— "<i>Pater</i>—". Repeat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—I say I do not know—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It does not matter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—Then tell me what it means.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— You must not ask.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You show more faith not knowing. "<i>Pater</i>—" Come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pater noster</i>—" <span class="directline">(<i>Reaching toward her.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">Will you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>Snatching up her basket.</i>) What does it mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Bowing his head.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I do not know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— You are just teasing me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Selma, listen to me. If our dear Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who died upon the tree that we might live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had meant that we should know what this thing means,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would have told us. Let us show our faith.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let us say it as He taught us. Come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repeat it with me. "<i>Pater</i>—" <span class="directline">(<i>Advancing toward her.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i36">Will you say it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>Skipping up the slope and disappearing through</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the boughs.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not till you tell me what it means.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Oswald stands as one who knows not what to do. Along</i> +<i>the path leading in from the left, Father Paul, the friar,</i> +<i>enters. For a time he stands contemplating the scene</i> +<i>before him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Paul</span>—My son. Come now. Come now. The Lord Christ calls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delay is death. Give up this heathen world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot save her here. But there, who knows?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Prayer can do much. Go now and get the cross.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall wait for you in the grotto here. <span class="directline">(<i>They go out, right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—In the depths of the forest. Back</i> +<i>through the trees, to the right, is seen the home of Canzler,</i> +<i>a small cottage built of logs, with antlers over the doorway.</i> +<i>It sits in a space partially cleared, and the light</i> +<i>falls golden about it. Among the trees in the foreground,</i> +<i>where the shadows are thicker, is the stump of a large</i> +<i>oak and a newly fallen trunk extending out left. Over</i> +<i>to the right, at the foot of one of the trees, lies a small</i> +<i>bundle fastened to the end of a stick. At intervals a bird</i> +<i>is heard singing in the forest.</i></p> + +<p><i>Near the stump several men are gathered. Canzler,</i> +<i>facing right, stands beside the log with his hand resting</i> +<i>upon his ax. He is bareheaded. His sleeves are rolled up</i> +<i>above his elbows and his shirt, open in front, discloses</i> +<i>his broad, hairy breast. Near the stump stands Hartzel, a</i> +<i>man apparently seventy years of age. He wears a long,</i> +<i>white beard and his hands are folded on top of a tall</i> +<i>rustic staff. The others are Fritz and Rudolph and Wiglaf,</i> +<i>the gleeman, in a fantastic garb faded and tattered. On</i> +<i>the other side of the log, to the right of Canzler, is Max,</i> +<i>another woodman, also in his shirt sleeves.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Why did they burn my harp, then? I'm a man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Leaning forward and speaking in a loud voice in Hartzel's ear.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hear what Wiglaf says? Says he's a man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why did they burn his harp, then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— No, Hartzel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not enough with them that we are men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must be Christians.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— That's it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— We must pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prayers the priests pray. We must go to church,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chant when they chant and what they chant and be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clay, as it were, upon their potter's-wheel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not enough the great All-father wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Us in his image; not enough to live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The honest life of man. We must submit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be remolded to whatever shape<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The potter-priest may give us. So we bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His stamp and pray his prayers and wear the name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Christian—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Then you can steal or—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— No, Hartzel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mass counts with them much more than manhood does.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Canzler's just right. Who ever heard of them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Injuring a man because his life was bad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If his Faith was good?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hartzel puts his hand to his ear and looks at Fritz.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Who ever heard of them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Injuring a man because his life was bad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If his Faith was good? <span class="directline">(<i>Wiglaf listens to the bird.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— I don't doubt that some would. <span class="directline">(<i>Canzler touches him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—The birds are free to sing Val-father's songs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wiglaf must sing the songs men bid him sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or have his tongue pulled out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Speaking of Faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can a good man have a bad Faith? Isn't<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life his Faith?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— Life his faith? Just so; but—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But circumstances, Canzler. If we knew—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—He thinks I've been a scoundrel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— I don't say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I don't say that, for I don't know.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— Don't know!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Back through the trees to the left, Selma is seen going</i> +<i>toward the cottage.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting in Hartzel's ear.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">He says you think he's been a scoundrel? Think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's why they tried to kill him?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—(<i>In amazement.</i>) Why—why—no:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not hear, Wiglaf; your back was turned.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Holding up her basket.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I found them, Father. See? I said I would.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—That island, Canzler, where they say our race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rebuilt its kingdom, who knows aught of it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—No word has reached us from that far off land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—It used to live in gleemen's songs, but now—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Old men recall it as a forgotten thing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma enters the cottage.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—In what sea lies it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Where the Frankish land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks toward the setting Balder, I have heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—And does this river off here empty near it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—First flowing through wide forests and high rocks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Wiglaf walks to and fro thoughtfully.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—I don't doubt you've been wronged, Wiglaf. I don't<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubt that they're arming. What I do say is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows it is against us?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— Wait and see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—It may be they are mustering a host<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take the East again. Nigh forty years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ago now, Frederic Red-beard—Canzler here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembers; he was young then—mustered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nigh on to four score thousand, Canzler?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— About.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—And they were not against us.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Taking up the bundle and starting right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i57">Farewell, all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Where are you going, Wiglaf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— There's no place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all this land for Wiglaf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Don't say that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While that roof stands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— It won't stand long, Canzler.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Clenching his hands.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill stand till he won't need it any more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Wild deer shall listen and no foot be heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Have you forgotten your inspired word?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—But centuries may pass ere that child comes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma comes from the cottage and begins to gather dry</i> +<i>leaves and chips about the doorway. She is singing to</i> +<i>herself and her voice comes faintly through the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Or in these hard days have you, too, lost faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Woden?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Wiglaf lose faith in Woden!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O chief!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking down.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">What shall Wiglaf say? Shall the skald,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose eye sees through the darkness, see no light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the winter see no spring, beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm, no calm? <span class="directline">(<i>He starts away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Stay here with us, Wiglaf. <span class="directline">(<i>Selma enters the cottage.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Lose faith in Woden when the north wind blows?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think the trunk dead because the boughs are bare?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the bloom live forever, and the seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not swell and break its pod and find the earth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father sows and reaps and sows again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our race has come to harvest, and the hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of southern reapers have laid low the tribes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound them in sheaves and stacked them far away<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And threshed them out on many a bloody field.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—And the war-maidens have gleaned heroes there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Gleaned them and sown them in the earth again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The years fall white upon the silent tribes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father's winter locks them in the ground.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking up at the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But O, O chief, these, too, were once down there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz bows his head and walks back among the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From a pent-up heart.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Shall it, Wiglaf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— The bare North shall be green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Be red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Wiglaf!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>— The young leaves come out red.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who puts his ear against a door<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He gets down and puts his ear to the earth.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hears within a noise of armed men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the washing of Val-father's waves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rushing from Naastrand where their bodies lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piled on the dark shore where the ships come not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Bringing them back.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—(<i>Rising.</i>) With shock of arms, O chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breaking of the bark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Then comes the leaf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Red from the breaking of—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— It shall be green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—Bragi is singing the white years away. <span class="directline">(<i>He goes out right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—We may be few, Wiglaf, but—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— Stay with us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wiglaf</span>—He beckons from that island in the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wiglaf must go where Bragi calls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Oh, say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hail," to that kindred land!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He drops his ax against the log.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">From us say "Hail!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Stepping past the stump.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, if you find them holding up the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell them, Wiglaf, to keep iron hearts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say that the ancient trunk of Wittikind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows a green sprout! Say all the North is green!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Go with us to the mountains!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Stay and die!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Or say—say, Wiglaf, say—it shall be green!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Smoke is seen curling above the roof of the cottage.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—I did not say he was a scoundrel. Eh? <span class="directline">(<i>To Rudolph.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Did I? Did I, Max? <span class="directline">(<i>Calling to Canzler.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i43">Where is he going?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I don't doubt he's been wronged; I don't doubt that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where's he—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz comes forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span> (<i>To Max.</i>)—We must leave here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We must stay here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In Hartzel's ear.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He says we, too, must leave here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— Leave? What for?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What have we done?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— But I say stay and die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them thresh us out, too. (<i>To Max.</i>) What do you say?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—What do you say, Max?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— I say stay and live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot kill us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— How so?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— If they do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They must kill Oswald, too. Then where's the child?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where then's Val-father's promised child?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Max—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Returning to the stump.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The question, Hartzel, is not what they've done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's what they think they have a right to do.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They own, they think, our bodies and our brains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no thing or thought or word or deed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can take its way, but must report to them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And square itself and do a bondman's work.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have a right, they think, to chop the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lop off her great green boughs and graft instead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The South's pale branches.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— To bear bastard fruit.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—The oak's red blood must nourish olive leaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They would remake the world Val-father made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take the seasons from his great right hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must be like them or be not at all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like them in manhood, Hartzel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— No; in Faith.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even their gods know not the Saxon tongue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—If a man speak Val-father's name, he dies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>—And we must die if we be not baptized.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Must even ask of them what we may eat!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Why is it not enough to be a man?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do a man's work and to live a life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free like the wild deer, and to grow like these?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He looks about upon the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You, Hartzel, have lived longer than we have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you have seen more seasons, and you know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In father Woden's forests how the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow as they will, acknowledging no lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But him who made them to be lordless, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obeying no law save that law that bids<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each be itself and bring forth its own fruit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the populous forests of this world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no tyrant tree that lifts its head<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Above the rest and says, "Obey my law."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For each tree hath its own law in itself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no tree hears another, but each hears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of father Woden in the loam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laying the law of selfhood on each seed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seed bursts and the law starts toward the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The acorn lays it softly on the oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chestnut on the chestnut, and the pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the loftiest mountain hears its cone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering with father Woden in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learning the law it taketh to the ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus by that law that each tree be itself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This forest hath become a stalwart state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nation governed by one law, a vast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green kingdom of ten thousand happy trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With father Woden monarch in the boughs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The law of selfhood is the law of trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who says the law of sameness governs man?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because the South has not the girth of trunk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bear Val-father's weight upon its boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must he climb down from ours and let the South<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climb up and with its law bind leaf and limb?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did he, who made these oaks to grow and spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their branches, make our branching minds to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pinched to a point and put inside a ring?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—But they say that they got that ring from some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God that once came down—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— From their southern skies?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who gave the southern cypress mouth to speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father's law unto the northern pine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, do you say, come down to bind men? <i>God?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">A <i>God</i> that <i>binds?</i> <span class="directline">(<i>Looking up at the trees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i33">I see no ring on these.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Loki is a smith. He made their ring.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Where in our northern sagas will you find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A track of any shackle-bearing god?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the past has any such a god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come down the northern sky? All round the walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Midgard stand the Asas guarding man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against whatever brings bonds.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma comes from the cottage with a bucket.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Sons of Lok.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—The southern gods may bring down shackles, but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The northern hammer breaks the shackles off.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From back among the trees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'm going after water, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—And one shall come to take that hammer up.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>—The Asas walk the walls of Midgard still.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Selma goes out left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph </span>—Val-father made the mountain rocks to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bastions of the oppressed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— He made the grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He sits down on the log and takes his head between his</i> +<i>hands.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—"In him shall be the strength of all your dead."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, Hartzel; as Fritz says, their ring was wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far in the south at that old fire that burns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal mid the hills. Of old they forged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Law for our fathers, and, with iron hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welded it on them. For five hundred years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noise of that old furnace filled the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her red mouth link on link her hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew one continuous shackle, and the North<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walked heavily, until Val-father's spear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flashed southward. Then the noise stopped. The great beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wore for head and neck those seven hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roused her and saw her whelps come bleeding back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard wild Tyr holloing the tribes for dogs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round her on every side, and rose at bay<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And clawed through bloody foam and ceased and saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hills go round and round and with a crash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretched her vast skeleton over all the south.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—Then she is dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Rome dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— If she is bones.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—-Bones, Hartzel, are not dead. The life returns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ghastly thing moves in the silent night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When swords are sleeping and the ear hears not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old hands scratch round old battle-fields and there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The skulls that wore the helmet don the hood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the morning breaks no man will say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The thing that stands there is the thing that fell."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our father found it so. For after that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great hunt down in the south, the tribes lay down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slept and woke and saw—they knew not what.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It wore a sword, but had no hauberk on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas robed in black and on each shoulder sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What seemed an eagle in a vulture's plumes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, too, thought bones were dead, and seeing no<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark of their swords upon it nor anywhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The indenture of those old hills in the south,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They showed it all the paths among the tribes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Welcomed it to their homes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— And took its ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—And then lay down and slept and never woke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—If Rome is dead, whence all these harried lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wigmodia and the Phalias, East and West?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—There, even to this day, the clay is red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—If Rome is dead, what is this thing that now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On hands and knees creeps on us toward the north<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathering flesh for its bones as it comes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—Most of them have gone over to their Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Most of them? Most of them lie, as Wiglaf says,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piled on the dark shore where the ships come not.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Between the ring and sword they chose the sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—What is this thing that says, "Accept this Faith,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the same thing that to our fathers said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Accept this Law"? It is the same old Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snake hath cast her skin but not her fangs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witness the rivers red. Witness the charred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Track of the dragon and these silent lands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has she not gathered flesh? Has she not clothed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her limbs and filled her bowels with the North?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climb to the clouds and call the Saxon race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who will answer? Silence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And the streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moaning and hurrying red waves to the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—There is a day that would but cannot die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That day—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max and Rudolph</span>—At Verden.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— When our fathers died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unarmed, defenceless, butchered, Hartzel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, that day hides her face among the years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cannot hide her hand. Val-father has— <span class="directline">(<i>Closing his fingers.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Her wrist in his grasp and holds that hand aloft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drip and rouse the North, and it shall drip<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Ragnarok shall swallow it up at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vomit it out to bleed forevermore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four thousand and five hundred in one day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till set of sun, all day the axes swang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when night fell the Aller's waters slipped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thick through the headless bodies in her bed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, for once more a day like Dachtelfeld! <span class="directline">(<i>He turns away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Val-father's spear shall flash again, Canzler.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shall a horn wind that shall rouse the tribes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strew those bones again.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Let's wind it now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span> (<i>To Canzler.</i>)—Do you think we should leave here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Max</span>— No.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Wittikind shall come and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— They shall hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The North's great hammer ringing round the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Max, you tell Conrad that we meet to-night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have Herman come. <span class="directline">(<i>Max goes out left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i19">And, Rudolph, you go down—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Touching, him with his staff</i>.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler, you said just now the point was not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What they have done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Nor is it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— Then why this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summoning of the men? Are we to have war?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz and Rudolph, talking together, walk back among the trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Hartzel, the past and present are two limbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On one tree. Though the one bears withered leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these on this around us here are green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trunk is the same; the sap is the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The new fruit is the old fruit. What to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is Wiglaf fleeing to the ocean isles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the whole Saxon race? What is his harp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ashes but our homes and all this land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are those graves yonder old? Were these, our scars, <span class="directline">(<i>Opening his bosom.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Handed down from our fathers? When we start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alarmed in the night, is it the past we fear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no past to things that have been dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a scabbard empty of its sword.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall we do? Accept their Faith?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— No, no.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Without it, we must steal the air we breath<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And thank Val-father if we get it then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their blades are out; shall we not lift our shields?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wolves are we? Wolves are not hunted so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bears have the caves; must our cave be the grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no room there. How then can we die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After his great meal, Death hath lain him down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Famine, the gleaner, has the field. There is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No plot unreaped, no sheaf unflailed. The barns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are stuffed to breaking with the dead. And we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this great carnage, in this harvest-home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last few straws whisked from the threshing-floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunted by that old Hunger of the south<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From field to wood, from wood to darker wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far up strange rivers and—down under them—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hartzel, remember; when we fall, there goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the whole North. We alone stand. Of all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father's oaks, there's but one acorn left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That can re-forest and make green the North.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rudolph and you and I and the rest, save one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are, as it were, its protecting shell. Off there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sword is coming toward us, and shall we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hands down take the point and hear the unborn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wail of that child that should have filled the north<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shouts and wound his horn upon its hills?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind him, in array, the dead tribes come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fire for the south; their umbered shields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the gunwales lour; and shall the snake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swallow the haven where that host must land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the North die? Never. <span class="directline">(<i>He turns as if to call Rudolph.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—Accept their Faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We need not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Die?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>—We need not. (<i>A pause.</i>) We might flee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— (<i>Emphatically.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler will never vote to flee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Hear that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler will never vote to flee. <span class="directline">(<i>Coming forward.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i36">Nor Fritz, chief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Where could we flee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— We have already fled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—No.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hartzel turns and, with his face to the ground, walks slowly</i> +<i>left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Canzler, listen to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Unnoticed, Conrad appears coming through the trees on the</i> +<i>right. Several young squirrels hang from the belt about</i> +<i>his waist and in his right hand is a cross-bow. Upon</i> +<i>his left shoulder he carries the crucifix which he has</i> +<i>pulled up, post and all.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— The red ax<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They swung at Verden swings clear round the North<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her great head falls.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a jolt Conrad sets the crucifix down and leans it</i> +<i>against one of the large trees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i42">Where did that come from?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Over on the road; by the bridge.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler goes toward it. Fritz quickly says something to</i> +<i>Rudolph. The latter walks lack in the rear.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>As if to draw him away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i52">Canzler, here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—There was a sheep's pelt lying in the bank—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a motion.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down here where we could kneel to it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Coming back.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i42">What is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—It is the Christians' Irminsul. They chop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours down to put theirs up.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Canzler.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— The men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That followed Wiglaf must have put it up.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—They're closing round us, Canzler, every day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you say stay and fight through, for my part—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Suddenly Canzler turns and looks Conrad full in the face.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know I did, but if the rest say stay—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After looking tip at the crucifix again, Canzler turns slowly</i> +<i>and walks away left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is the matter?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>When near the stump, Canzler again glances back; then</i> +<i>drops his head and walks on among the trees. Conrad</i> +<i>turns to Fritz.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">What is the matter?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hartzel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Apologetically, following him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Canzler, I hope I have said nothing. I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not mean flee—in that sense. <span class="directline">(<i>Canzler goes out.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i41">I meant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes out. The men stand looking after them. Rudolph</i> +<i>comes forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—This will break Canzler's heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Pointing to the crucifix.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i57">Oswald.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—We tried to keep it from him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Selma, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Canzler must never tell her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— Where is he?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—No one has seen him since last night when Fritz—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—I saw him with the pelt—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Quickly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i45">Here comes Canzler.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The men assume an expression of unconcern.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Aloud.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever Canzler says. If he says stay—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler appears among the trees. He stops and looks off</i> +<i>through the forest to the right, and his brow darkens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And brought it out from town and put it up.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph lifts up the squirrels at Conrad's belt.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—There were not many in the woods to-day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Coming forward and giving his orders hastily.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Rudolph, you and Fritz go summon the men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go with them, Conrad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz glances off through the forest, right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— That we meet to-night?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—This afternoon. Be quick. <span class="directline">(<i>The men start back left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—(<i>Huskily.</i>) Oswald. (<i>Conrad glances right.</i>) Oswald.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph glances right, and the three go out in silence.</i> +<i>Canzler, who has stepped left, stands in the shadow of</i> +<i>one of the trees. A little later Oswald appears coming</i> +<i>through the trees to the right. He is looking about as</i> +<i>if in search of something.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Firmly, but without passion.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">There, there it is. Take it, take it and go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Downcast, stammering.</i>) I—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>) No word.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Oswald moves slowly to the tree, takes the crucifix upon his</i> +<i>shoulder, and, with bowed head, goes off right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>Calling from the left.</i>) Oswald!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The girl enters with her water. She stops, looks after Oswald</i> +<i>until he has disappeared, then turns with a questioning</i> +<i>look to her father.</i>) O father!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— As for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let a man be a man. Outside of that,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no power on earth that dares ask more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No power in heaven that will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He turns and goes back toward the cottage.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>With a sigh, looking right.</i>) Oswald, Oswald.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_TWO" id="ACT_TWO">ACT TWO.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—A forest on the mountain tops, the great</i> +<i>trees glooming with the shadows of nightfall. In the</i> +<i>distance, between the dark boles, patches of sky with the</i> +<i>fading light of evening. The scene slopes down into</i> +<i>a clump of tangle-wood on the left. Up the slope, upon</i> +<i>a stump that stands out from among the trees, Selma is</i> +<i>sitting with her head bowed, her face almost hidden by her</i> +<i>hair which has fallen forward across her shoulders. She</i> +<i>is dressed in dappled fawn-skin. In her hand she has a</i> +<i>spray of dog-wood blossoms from which she is thoughtlessly</i> +<i>tearing the leaves. From the thicket below, three</i> +<i>fairies steal in one after another, having in their hands</i> +<i>wild-flowers and ferns.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—Early spring, three years later.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Running a little way up the slope and stopping.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Sister, see! (<i>Holding forth her flowers.</i>) Kingcups!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—(<i>Running closer.</i>) Sister, see, I bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laced fern.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>—(<i>Running still closer.</i>) See, see! Violets, sister!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found them waking in an open place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the dew falls. <span class="directline">(<i>Together they approach the stump.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—(<i>Softly.</i>) Sister!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— Flowers, sister.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The first stoops down and looks up into Selma's face. The</i> +<i>others whisper together. From the thicket below, two</i> +<i>other fairies enter.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>—(<i>Stopping.</i>) Hark, how it tinkles!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—It's the dew falling. <span class="directline">(<i>They hurry up the slope.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—(<i>Rising quickly.</i>) Her eyes are wet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second and Third</span>—(<i>To fourth and fifth.</i>) Her eyes are wet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>— Sister,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anemones are opening in the wind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—And every pink is jeweled in the fells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—And here are buttercups.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— And violets.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Stooping.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">See, sister, here I bring the first frilled fern.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found it where the dashing water-fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprayed it. It was uncurling near a rock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Without looking up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I do not like you, for you will not tell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The fairies start and exchange glances.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—Oh, see the dew-globes break upon the moss!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She runs back a little way among the trees. The others</i> +<i>follow her and they talk among themselves.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—Where is he now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— He is making his way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his cold dark cell in the cold dark house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the lizards dart and the crickets call.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—I heard the grind of his wooden shoe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the mountain road; but she must not know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>—We stood in the pines and we saw him pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thin white shadow she would not know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—And, sisters, he turned his face to the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we heard him sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>— And we heard him sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>—It must be, it must be, for he cannot see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—He cannot see till he sees no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>As before.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You said he would come when the dog-wood bloomed.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—Oh, see them!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— See the fairies!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They all look up the slope.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>— Round they go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their ringlets whirling, whirling.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>—At every sparkle racing through the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From crottle, kingcup, and green maiden-hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dainty gowpens fetch the dewy globes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slide them down the sagging gossamers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To light them in the dance.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They glance toward the stump. Seeing that they have not</i> +<i>succeeded in attracting Selma's attention, they take</i> +<i>hands and circle toward her singing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Hark the bracken rustle, sister.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Other elves are awaking, peeping,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>While the cowslip buds are weeping</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>On the downs and in the dells.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Trip it softly, softly, sister,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Lest the stock-dove, lightly sleeping,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Wake and hear our fairy bells.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After circling round the stump and seeking in every way</i> +<i>to induce her to join them, one of them tries gently to</i> +<i>take the spray of dog-wood blossoms from her hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—(<i>Calling aloud.</i>) Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—Oh, smell the wood pinks! They are waking now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—The bees are stirring in the gum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— O sisters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know a brake where the brown quails sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's tip the leaves and let the star-light on them.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Four of them run up the slope one after another and each</i> +<i>in turn as she disappears among the trees glances back</i> +<i>and calls to Selma.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—Sister!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>— Sister!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>— Sister!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>— Sister!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The fifth fairy stands for a time looking after the others,</i> +<i>then comes to the stump and sits down at Selma's</i> +<i>feet.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>— Sister,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you will come and play, I'll show you slim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young heath-bells in the dingle. Won't you, if<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We take you where may-apples grow and pinks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bend with their fairy mirrors on the moss?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— (<i>From the thicket below.</i>) O sister!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The fairy starts up and skips down the slope.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Without looking up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Three times it has bloomed and he does not come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sixth Fairy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Entering hurriedly from the thicket.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">We were floating along on the river mist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw them creep up the mountain side—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Seventh Fairy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Entering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And heard them plotting and heard them say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"We will throw him down, we will throw him down."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sixth Fairy</span>—We called in his ear, but he did not hear,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +<p>(<i>The seventh starts up the slope toward Selma.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—Oh, do not tell her! Oh, do not tell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Seventh Fairy</span>—They will throw him down! They will throw him down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—Oh, catch him with delicate hands as he falls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the mist and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sixth Fairy</span>— Save him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Seventh Fairy</span>— Save him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fifth Fairy</span>—And I will run to the mountain cave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The two fairies hasten out through the thicket, the fifth</i> +<i>disappears back among the trees, left. Singing is heard</i> +<i>up the slope. A moment later, a number of fairies circle</i> +<i>in with green boughs in their hands.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>On the downs and in the dells.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Trip it softly, softly, sister,</i><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Lest the stock-dove, lightly sleeping,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Wake and hear our fairy bells.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—Oh, something black tumbled into the mist!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>—And something bright—what was it, sister?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Fairy</span>—A star, I think; it glanced and fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Third Fairy</span>—Sister, it flashed like a silver cross.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fourth Fairy</span>—And plopped into the brook. Did you see the ripples<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glitter in the moon?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Fairy</span>— O sisters, see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The will-o'-the-wisps rush down the valley fogs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their white veils trailing round the tall dark crags.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They hurry down the mountain. Selma, startled, gets off</i> +<i>the stump and runs a little way back in the wood and,</i> +<i>stopping, looks after them.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Up the slope.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Where are you, child? <span class="directline">(<i>He enters.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i23">Why do you stand out here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkness?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—They have gone away again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who waits till she comes near him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Do not ask anything to stay, my child.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the leaf goes the tree goes, and the rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow away with the waters to the sea. <span class="directline">(<i>They go up the slope together.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—He does not come and they will not tell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She stops and looks back.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Let us go home and watch the stars come out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the mountains where Val-father lives.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps the Norns will spin us a white thread.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go out, Selma looking back.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—A mountain cavern with jutting ledges of</i> +<i>rock. From the bones that lie about, one would imagine</i> +<i>it to be a den to which wild beasts drag and devour their</i> +<i>prey. To the right, a vine, growing out of the crevice in</i> +<i>the rear wall, shows by its leaves becoming a darker green</i> +<i>as it spreads to the right that the entrance is in that direction</i> +<i>and near by. Bowlders, evidently used for seats, lie</i> +<i>here and there, and in the rear, center, a smouldering</i> +<i>fire throws their shadows about the floor and walls. Several</i> +<i>willow baskets freshly woven hang on pegs driven</i> +<i>into seams in the rocks. To the left, an old spinning</i> +<i>wheel with a thread trailing from it, and near it, upon</i> +<i>the floor, a quantity of black wool. Farther over in the</i> +<i>corner, a couch of rushes and forest grass. From the</i> +<i>ledge that projects out over it hang bunches of dry herbs.</i> +<i>In the left wall, extending to the ceiling and barely wide</i> +<i>enough to admit of one's passing through, is a cleft whence</i> +<i>are heard at intervals the muffled sound of hammers far</i> +<i>down in the earth.</i></p> + +<p><i>To the right of the fire, Sigurd, the dwarf, is peeling osiers.</i> +<i>He is barefooted. About his neck he wears a string of</i> +<i>buckeyes. Beside him, upon the floor, lies a pile of white</i> +<i>osiers newly peeled. Occasionally he takes the withes in</i> +<i>his mouth and tears the bark off with his teeth. On the</i> +<i>other side of the fire, reclining upon his elbow, the gnome</i> +<i>Kilo is poking the coals with a stick.</i></p> + +<p><i>Despite the red glow of the fire, the cave is quite dark.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Love the monks, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—(<i>To the left.</i>) Kilo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— Granny says you do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—Kilo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Hush! I'm tired.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—Loki wants you. (<i>After a pause.</i>) Kilo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Call on; Kilo don't care. It's sweat and drudge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And puff and hammer the livelong day<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +<span class="i0">At the blazing forge, and then all night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The big black sledges swing and fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm tired. You love the bells?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— Kilo! You hear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumb, are you, elf-brat? You squealed loud enough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night that Granny found you on the moss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as a hail-stone, thunder-whelped, and cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Tweakle! tweakle!" Elf-cub, are you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— Kilo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Out of temper.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him I've gone with Granny.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From the left Zip enters. Under his arm he +carries a great sword, the blade of which he is +burnishing with a piece of sand-stone.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— Where is she?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Darkening the moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— Is to-night the time?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a look warning him of the presence of the dwarf.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Got the runes cut on it?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Zip hands the sword to Kilo and goes over and +stands near the vine. Kilo examines the +curiously wrought haft.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— Listen!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Sitting up.</i>) What is it? (<i>They listen.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—The geese are out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—(<i>To the dwarf.</i>) Hear that, gozzard? Do you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Hark! Hissing, they go down the mountain side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flip-flap of their big grey wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(<i>He returns toward the fire.</i>) Last night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monks' new hunter wrung two ganders' necks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found their heads in the grotto.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—(<i>Poking the dwarf with the sword.</i>) Hear that, lob?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You herd the goslets for the holy men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next thing you'll grind the scauper for the monk,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And help him carve the cross. Granny'll get you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Where's Suk and Gimel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— Digging water-herbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the marsh. <span class="directline">(<i>He rises and the two walk left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i18">'Twas said to throw him off.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young imp shoots his ears out like a snail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel about for danger to the monks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he should hear the gnomes are out for blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd see him, he'd be footed like a hare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To put the monk on guard.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From the right, Zory enters. He crooks his back, screens</i> +<i>his eyes with his hand, and walks feebly.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— "O dear! my eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rosa, is the moon up, dear?" Ha, ha! Zory! Zory!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He takes up the sword from the floor, and using it as a</i> +<i>cane, walks unsteadily.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Steal into the abbey, will they?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— No, no.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's down in the village. At break of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the blur of his big black gown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mountain mists as he made his way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-night he will come from the little town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Suk and Gimel—the road runs by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where some wild vines dangle.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>As though jerking them.</i>) And far below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waters gurgle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— They will? Ho, ho!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Huskily, nodding toward the dwarf.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The spy of Woden.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>—(<i>Dropping his voice.</i>) If that's the plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the old dame with her gimlet eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees farther than Woden's ravens can.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At dusk I crept over behind the town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some boys were up on the mountain side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Running a cow they were driving down,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With puff-balls pelting her brindled hide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a slope of heather I knew a sink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a brown backed bunny was wont to squat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warm his fur in the sun and wink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the shadows darkening a cabbage plot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says I: "Now Zory will have some fun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll start the hare for the village boys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear them hollo and see them run."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With barking of dogs and a hue and a cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They will soon be off, and, flying the noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wat will go bobbing across the down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm off for the heather when lo, I hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind the sallows that fringe the foss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sneeze and a sigh and then, "O dear!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some women are trying to get across.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hide in the dock. The dames pass by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With baskets of bennet. I hear one say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"With our dear Lord hanging upon the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, such a beautiful, beautiful cross<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one ever saw, so the people say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who have peered in the window. And think, la me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In another day and another day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My every prayer will have been fulfilled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May the Virgin spare us." The other sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, scanning the shadowy mountain side:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I fear he will never complete it, Clotilde.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He climbs that dreadful mountain at night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can you see him now? Oh, I fear, I fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those awful rocks where the devils hide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems so dark. Rosa, is the moon up, dear?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the old dame as she—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Mimicing with the sword for a cane.</i>) daddled on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her skirt in her hand, through the dewy grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her little whisket of herbs on her arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep off the devils, and mumbling a mass<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And snuffling and moaning and sighing, "O dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's a wicked world."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>He laughs till he falls to the floor</i> +<i>where he continues to laugh. Kilo steals to the fire and</i> +<i>is about to snap a coal toward Zory when Suk rushes in</i> +<i>right.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—Granny! O Granny!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip and Kilo</span>—What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—Where's Granny?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— On the peaks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—(<i>Rushing left.</i>) Loki!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Stop him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—(<i>Dodging past Zip.</i>) Loki!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Stop him, Zory! (<i>As he darts by, Zory, still upon</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>the floor, catches the gnome about the legs.</i>) What is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Over the cliff?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—(<i>Panting.</i>) Over and over. His black gown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind puffs it—like a big bat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swoops after him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>—Whew!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—(<i>Right.</i>) Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—(<i>Breaking away.</i>) Loki!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He rushes out left, followed by the three other gnomes.</i> +<i>From the right Gimel enters.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun's up, Granny! Hear the cock!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His morning trumpet wakes the village up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the good people in their Sunday clothes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A long procession up the mountain goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With boughs of cypress and boughs of yew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the big bell in the abbey tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T-o-l-l-s and it t-o-l-l-s and it t-o-l-l-s.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What makes the big bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sob in its tower? Can any one tell?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Why, the monk that pulls at the rope, I ween.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cock-a-doodle-doo!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He follows the others through the narrow passage, left. A</i> +<i>moment later, from the opposite side, a fairy appears</i> +<i>and beckons to the dwarf. The latter, after a quick</i> +<i>glance to the left, stealthily takes up the sword from the</i> +<i>floor and follows the fairy from the cave.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—The monastery of St. Giles, in the mountains.</i> +<i>An open court, with buildings dimly seen in the</i> +<i>darkness. To the right, the dormitory, a large structure</i> +<i>built of stone, with high, deep-set windows protected by</i> +<i>heavy shutters which are closed. Across the court a high</i> +<i>wall, starting in front, extends back some fifteen feet and</i> +<i>abuts the side of the chapel before which in outline long</i> +<i>stone steps may be discerned. In the center of the wall</i> +<i>is an archway with a pair of ponderous iron gates. The</i> +<i>night is dark and windy.</i></p> + +<p><i>Along the side of the dormitory comes old Andrew</i> +<i>with a staff and lighted taper. He is singing in a low voice.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—<i>The barque o' the moon, like the Ithican's ship,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Heigho, she's swamped on the sea,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With her big bags of wind</i>—(<i>Turning the corner and meeting the wind.</i>) Hey!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up, lads! Swell your bellies, sails! Now we're for't!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>His candle threatening to go out, he draws back. For a</i> +<i>while he stands as if perplexed. Then, rounding the</i> +<i>corner, he again turns his shoulder to the wind and,</i> +<i>shielding his taper thus, moves sidewise across the court</i> +<i>toward the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Puff, devils, puff, puff! Howl and snap! howl and snap!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll scare old Andrew, will you? By the saints,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll have this taper in the chapel sconce<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In spite of all your snarling.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He throws down his staff and shields his taper +with his gown.</i>) Blow! blow! blow!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's a monk's soul borne to the Virgin's arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across a strip of Hell. D'you want to leap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of this greasy world? Out with you, then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a fine night to jump in, wind and moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roar and the scud of swollen water-bags.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jump, jump, soul! Swounds, here's a coward for you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a tallow-swad that loves swine's belly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better'n the big deep. Shrift, eh? shrift and housel?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Primum confessum</i>, foul monk. Gluttony. <span class="directline">(<i>The taper flickers.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Yip! See the devils pluck at him! Quick, priest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">St. Giles will lose a lamb. If I damn one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I damn them all; damn the Abbot; damn Andrew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flesh is flesh. <i>Absolvo te. Secundum.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bibbing, eh? Vap or burgundy? Vap?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's a vile sin; but vap is hell enough.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Quid tertio?</i> <span class="directline">(<i>He puts his ear to the taper.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i17">St! lower; the Devil's listening. <span class="directline">(<i>Starting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Whee! Bless the saints! God must have gold for that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No gold? No gold, no shrift. And here's old Claw-foot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coming through the dark, that needs a furnace tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A skimmer for his bullion pots. Gramercy, monk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wench-craft there nor bibbing, soft bells and venison.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Limbs hot, hot lungs, hot belly, everything—<br /></span> +<span class="i13">(<i>The taper goes out.</i>) Puff!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down over the big, windy world. Good jump;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clean to the pit. <span class="directline">(<i>Thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i18">Ay, night, smack your black chaps.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rumble! rumble!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He feels about the ground for his staff, and, +having found it, walks back and stands under +one of the windows of the dormitory.</i>) Soloman! +Soloman!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Devil wants you. D'you hear? His pipe's gone out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give him a coal.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He waits a while, then beats upon the shutter +with his staff. A low voice is heard within.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">What's that? Eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— Who is it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lucifer?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Ay, with his light out.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">(<i>After a pause.</i>) Come, come!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll have to cut a reed and suck the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the big fool you told of.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The shutter opens and the head of Soloman appears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">Light, light, man! <span class="directline">(<i>Soloman whispers.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Pipe out, cricket. Here's the big noisy winds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roarin' in my ears. <span class="directline">(<i>Soloman whispers and points to the corner.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i21">Prowling? A night like this!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turned wolf, eh? There's a fine porker gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Louis and he were at their wassail cups,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nuzzling a stoup o' hipo' a while ago. <span class="directline">(<i>He comes toward the corner.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">God bless you, senechal, another stoup.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swine-herd, all-hail! Fill up the Abbot's trough.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An he breaks sty, look out! God bless us then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Water and bread, water and bread. Zooks, zooks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The devil's up with Andrew if he finds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The oratory dark. (<i>He listens.</i>) Otho! Spot! Hya! Hya!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's something snooping here. (<i>He crosses himself.</i>) I'll get a light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bustle from this place. It's the Devil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walking on wool. <span class="directline">(<i>He turns back toward the window.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i4">Water and bread. Sfoot, sfoot!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sheep will find thin food on Andrew's grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light, man, light! It's the bats hurtling.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Soloman disappears.</i>) There's a chinch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That burrows in the vellum like a mole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A parchment moth what can spin yarn or yarn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the old dame i' the tale. He reads and reads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's got a wit strung like a rosary thread<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With tales and names and things and things and things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me a tale, says I, something valorous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something to lighten life for an old man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tales for tapers, says he. A go, says I.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I pilfers from the chapel sconce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snuffed stubbs. To lighten life, says I.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Soloman reappears with a lighted candle.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lad that rode the dolphin, did he get<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To land?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—He stayed upon the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— And drowned?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—Turned buccaneer and sacked the christian ships<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sold the spoil in Jewry. <span class="directline">(<i>Andrew walks away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">Don't you wish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear it? The tale goes on to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Hugh de Bouillon, cruising in the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found him upon a cliff and took him down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From off a gibbet where the sea-gulls flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his harp upon the deck at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He made the sea-lads merry with his songs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's have them now, here at the gates of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off from dead men crying in the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—What makes the lightning go that way, zigzag?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—The Devil broke it on a gibbet—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Tush!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—And hung it upon a sea-cliff.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Tush, tush, lad!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't make game o' the old man. If he's bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's with prayer. <span class="directline">(<i>He comes back to the window.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— Sing me a sea-song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— It's too raw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A night, lad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He holds his taper up toward Soloman's, when suddenly</i> +<i>some one carrying a light appears at the farther corner</i> +<i>of the dormitory. Soloman jerks back his candle.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">Eh? It's Bill-o'-the-wisp!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God save us, man! Moving! It's a torch.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The light passes behind the chapel. Andrew walks back in</i> +<i>the court.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How the wind blows! There's blood in it. Caw, rooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chatter and caw. Villainy is abroad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's blood on the stones somewhere, fresh blood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stands looking in the direction whence the light disappeared.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's the new deer-man fastening up the dogs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hunts in the night when the brockets o' the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to the stream to drink. And none to tell them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' the foul spear. No abbot-stag to say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Standing to his belly in the stream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Drink will be the death of you." It's a foul world.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Returning toward the window.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hunter's at the kennel wi' his pups.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's his name? He's been here now a sennight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—Macias.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Macias; that's a good name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Giving Andrew a light.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It's a lean name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Lean name? Fat, man, fat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An it was lean we'd have to cast our skins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the snakes do, and sleep at breakfast time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tell you, Soloman, there a hunter for you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's for a beast, he fronts it i' the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blazing its pretty orbs wi' his big torch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eye's a rook's eye and his spear as true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the bolt o' the buskined hussy what you say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drops from the moon i' the dead o' night and hunts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked i' the woods. She's a—I'm a monk, though.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An you could see him coming through the copse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shuffling the dews away, zooks, you would say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burnt faced fellows of Libya were for sure<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Making a revel feast for the big god.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The game! the game! Sweet, tender prickets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stags and chamois calves, pheasants and geese,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turtles and loaches and toper horse-fish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' fins as red as blood. God bless us, though.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An the Abbot finds the oratory dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There'll be thin food for sheep on Andrew's grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Water and bread.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He starts toward the chapel, humming to himself.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— What's the song, Andrew?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Sh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Abbot hears me trill that heathen song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll get no chick-weed. It's a foul song.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes forward and looks round the corner of the dormitory,</i> +<i>then returns to the window.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cricket chirped it from a chink i' the wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the old man dozed dreaming o' green fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up there. <span class="directline">(<i>He sings.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i6"><i>The grass is food for the ewe</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And the ewe is food for man</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And man is food for the green, green grass</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And the grass for the ewe again.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The foul song makes goat's food of us all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Andrew's shoots, gowan, and aigilops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For filthy goats to browse on. <span class="directline">(<i>He starts away.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i34">Sfoot, I'll fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Fore I'll be carried around in a goat's udder.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Suddenly around the farther corner of the chapel the light</i> +<i>reappears. Soloman snatches-to the shutter. Old Andrew</i> +<i>blows out his taper and gets down upon his knees</i> +<i>by the wall. Macias, the hunter, carrying a pine torch,</i> +<i>comes forward across the court.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Telling his beads.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Adeste, sancti</i>; villainy is abroad.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Holding down his torch.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, monk, you're right. Are all the brothers in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—<i>Abi</i>, fiend! Out with the sooty torch!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Andrew's prayers can fly to heaven i' the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—I meant no harm, monk. I was passing by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard you say there's villainy abroad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought perhaps you'd heard the blind bitch howl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I did, mournful. Did you? Did you hear her?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Looking up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Who breaks old Andrew's mass? Zooks, it's the Devil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrusting his grimy face through censer smoke.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Turning to the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Adeste, sancti</i>; villainy is abroad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Reflecting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It may have been in my dream. <span class="directline">(<i>He walks out in the court.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i38">A few white stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still burned above the village. (<i>Looking up.</i>) Not a star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the heavens. <span class="directline">(<i>He returns right. Andrew has risen.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i20">Are all the brothers in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Up there behind the clouds?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Did you hear the howl?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Ay, heard it in the pines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— The bitch, I mean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Carnus is dog. Bitch is a carnal thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've been at prayer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Within?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— The prayer was in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Andrew was out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Here in the gale? How long?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Till a soul jumps from the big windy world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Jumps from the world? Whose soul?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— The monk's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—(<i>Aside.</i>) The monk's!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, there it is, the howl of the hound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death has been here.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Shook and refused to jump<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he was driven off.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— What! Driven off?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Ay, by the winds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— He died not in his cell?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—He died here by the wall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks back in the darkness.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Monk, beat the brush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear some crime is crouching in the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Ay, that there is; there's villainy abroad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stands listening.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Why are you silent? Tell me how he died.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Andrew returns gloomily and lights his taper at the hunter's</i> +<i>torch.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—His soul was calm until it sniffed the gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw the wild-fire grazing in the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then you should have seen him. When he heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roar of the wind and saw the lean moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush through the clouds, tearing them with her horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zooks, then he fluttered like a gull on a mast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a big barque is poppling up and down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I' the foam. And all the while devils' grimy hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plucked at him through the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The hunter turns away mumbling to himself.</i>) Eh? Mad? You're right.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An you'd a seen 'em you'd a said they're mad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Where will I find the Abbot?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Legions of them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'd seen me sponge him twice with a good shrift.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As soon as ever the third foul sin appeared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They pounced him and pitched him down over the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To where the big deep dashes up the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spraying the stars of heaven. Down, down, down!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks back in the court and stands listening.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hear it? Blood on the stones, fresh blood. (<i>Calling.</i>) Mother!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Chattering to himself. It must be he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient acholyte they told me of.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gray hairs and staff—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Mother!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— His ears are keen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From listening to the crickets in the stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Year after year. Jesu, that's a long time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagles that were young upon the crags<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he came here are gray. God, fifty years!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fifty years to watch the lizards spawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed them, name them, miss them then and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the green crevices of the old wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another brood come forth. Each rook that haunts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These musty gables here, he knows them all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knows every tomb-bat in the coffin'd crypt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can tell the spiders, where they cast their webs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dark corners, where and how and why;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rere-mice, when they breed; the vermin—God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fifty long years, fifty! And all that time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To count the days like beads and feel them black!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd rather be a fox. I'd rather be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never to have chased the chamois up the cliffs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never to have felt the thrill of stag at bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or heard the pheasant in the wild brown brake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whir! (<i>Walking right.</i>) I'd rather be a chipmunk free to—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—You got the dogs shut in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>At the corner of the dormitory.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i43">They're shut in. Why?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Hear it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— I hear nothing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Far down in the dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, groaning in the wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It tries to rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some stag or something's fallen from the rocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the dogs in? Is Twinkle in, and Spot?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Macias walks back.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's something moving round it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Stag, you say?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—It's not a stag. Its foot sounds like a paw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear it? It's dragging off the carcass. Hear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Old man, your ears are at the gates of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is it that you hear in this wild night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake you strike the trail I struck in sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have just had a dream in which I saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stag out on the mountain there dragged down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Abstractedly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Its foot sounds like a paw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— 'Twas in the dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am just from a dream in which I saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snow-white talbot pull a stag down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—And when the talbot had pulled down the buck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pair of hands, small as a fairy's are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reached through the leaves and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— Mother Mary! Hold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will wake Daniel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— Are all the brothers in?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Andrew beats upon the shutter.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—You're right. He'll read it as easy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the old fellow what ate pulse and got<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lean as the kine he saw. He knows them all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says he: "Dreams sleep under the dog-wood blooms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love to hear the patter o' the rain."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, he knows the color o' their beards, man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says he, one day, telling me of a dream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onar was its name, gray-beard like a king—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steals into a tent: "Now you can get the girl;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake up and fight; now you can get her."<br /></span> +<span class="i12">(<i>A low voice within.</i>) Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dream, God bless us, fire-wing. <span class="directline">(<i>The shutter opens.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">He.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— Tell it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Farther back, a second shutter opens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—First tell me this: Did either of you monks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear Fever howl?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— I heard no howl.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—(<i>Flashing back his torch.</i>) Did you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In a thin voice.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—Hear Fever howl.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— What's Fever?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— The bitch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— Shame!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Soloman.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">A while ago I started up from sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hurried to the kennel, thinking sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd find old Fever sick again; but no;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bitch was sleeping. And yet I heard a howl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may have been the white hound in my dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seemed to be out on the mountain there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas early morning; a few stars still shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the village. Soon, far down the road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a baying as of hounds. Thinks I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"A deer has passed and waked the village dogs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now for a chase." There must have been a slot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fresh blood on the road that fired the pack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on they came like mad. Around the cliff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long bodies swung like shadows through the mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tore on up the mountain. Farther up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stag plunged from a hazel copse, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snow-white talbot, following close behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shot smoking from the brake. "Abloy!" I cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leaped upon a rock. The after-pack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nosing the vent along the mountain road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard the loud challenge of the leading hound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, breaking trail, came crashing through the brush<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And spied the quarry, and with their heads in air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprang after up the scree, their steaming mouths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ringing the mountains round. The pretty deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nostrils flaming and with dappled flanks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torn by the furze, came skirting round a rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turned to dash under some low-hung boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When over a near knoll the hot, sinewy hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to a cat-o'-mountain from a limb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shot through the air. Crash through the boughs he went.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprinkling the earth with leaves. Out jumped my knife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, leaping from the rock, I hurried down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To slit the poor brute's throat and save a steak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the mad, hungry pack. The pretty buck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Staggered beneath the hound, while the beads of blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dripped from the quivering hocks. The head fell back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender haunches sank on the soft turf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death was closing up the eyes, when lo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sancta Maria, what a miracle!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He pauses a moment, then proceeds with more and more animation.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A gale had risen and the clouds that hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gray in the heavens when the chase began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foamed, and, flying black before the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grappled the woods and threw his thick, green hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the swirling rack of livid sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightnings and thunders, winds and tumbling rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charged on the pack of dogs as though they were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devils come up from Hell, and hurled them down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the pit again. Under the beech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the white talbot had pulled down the buck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold the miracle the Virgin wrought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of a dallop of green boughs that hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close to the haunches of the hart appeared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pair of small pink hands that with one wrench<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tore the hound's jaws apart. The deer rose up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from a sleep, shook his brown coat and browsed<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The succulent green twigs, then wandered off<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up the dark mountain side, whilst like a star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the dim, dissolving antlers shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crucifix of silver, dripping blood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Several shutters in the second story have opened and faces</i> +<i>are seen white in the glare of the torch. Old Andrew,</i> +<i>frightened, has drawn back in the shadow against the</i> +<i>wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo, then a sight such as I hope our Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will visit to these dying eyes of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their last hour. The louring mountain brows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brightened beneath a drift of golden feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wings waved in the air, and faces bloomed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the edding sky, and the dark towering ridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifting its weight of crags above the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sloughed off its shadow, and the field of pines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a green army climbing to the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the darkness of the dale below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook their victorious plumes, and every rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tree, bush, and vine, and weed, and flower sent up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Voices of joy till all the mountains rang.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Leo</span>—"I say unto you that joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that returneth."</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From the second story.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Who is the sinner?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Macias</span>—(<i>Calling up.</i>) Are all the brothers in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—(<i>Calling.</i>) Oswald!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Ask Pierre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Far within.</i>) He has not returned. (A pause.)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—He may have stayed with Father Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He finishes to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— Tell this dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the Abbot. <span class="directline">(<i>The hunter disappears round the corner.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>— Let us hear what Father says.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Oswald is girt about with prophesy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Fiends cannot harm him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Jesus is with him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The shutters are closed hurriedly.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Alone.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The Devil is a big, long-legged crane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wading the marsh of life, and we are frogs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tadpoles and water-bugs. I'll fast and pray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He shields his flickering taper with his gown and makes</i> +<i>his way across the court toward the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE FOUR—A desolate mountain road along the top</i> +<i>of a cliff that plunges down from the edge of a pine-wood.</i> +<i>Overhead the wind is heard moaning in the trees, and</i> +<i>upon the ground patches of moonlight wave to and fro.</i> +<i>From the left, past some bushes which almost hide the</i> +<i>road from view, the dwarf, Sigurd, appears carrying the</i> +<i>monk, Oswald, limp in his arms. The latter's face is so</i> +<i>emaciated that one would never recognize him as the</i> +<i>same person as was seen in the forest some three years</i> +<i>ago. His feet, upon which are heavy wooden shoes, drag</i> +<i>along the road. Suddenly from somewhere in his clothing</i> +<i>the large silver crucifix falls to the ground. The dwarf</i> +<i>stoops, and, resting the monk upon his knee, reaches down</i> +<i>and secures the crucifix, which he puts between his teeth.</i> +<i>Then, having gotten a new hold, he rises and, with difficulty,</i> +<i>makes his way up the road.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_THREE" id="ACT_THREE">ACT THREE.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—A grassy ledge far up on the mountain</i> +<i>side. Tall pine trunks rise here and there. Down the</i> +<i>slope, to the left, are russet tops of small oaks newly</i> +<i>leaved. To the right, a rocky acclivity of about thirty</i> +<i>degrees elevation with scattered bushes and a sheep path</i> +<i>winding back and up. In the distance, a blue range of</i> +<i>mountains with their bases buried in the white mists of</i> +<i>early morning.</i></p> + +<p><i>Some distance back from where the path comes down</i> +<i>upon the ledge, Conrad is broiling woodcocks on coals.</i> +<i>Brown feathers are sprinkled about upon the turf. Upon</i> +<i>a rock near by lies a well-filled hunting bag. Fritz, with</i> +<i>his face to the fire, is reclining upon the grass with a</i> +<i>shepherd's staff in his hands. From down the slope, comes</i> +<i>a tinkle of bells as of sheep browsing on the mountain side.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—Two days later.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—I was with Canzler when the boy climbed up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the rocks and handed it to him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—What does it look like?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— It's as long as that,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Indicating on his staff.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And blue as the waters of the tarn down there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the haft are wrought two eagles' heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, twisted round the blade in coil on coil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A serpent in the talons of the birds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms the cross piece upon the lower haft.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the blade between the coils what may be runes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are cut in characters of some unknown tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least, no man has ever made them out.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Where could the boy have gotten it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— No one knows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn the bird over.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— It is not brown yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—There is something magical about it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the light, the blade bends like a willow wand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the sky is overcast with clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in the shade of rock or tree no man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all his might can bend it, and it slips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through tree and rock as through a pawpaw leaf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—The boy himself, what did he say?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— He vanished.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— Eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—When Canzler turned to ask him, he was gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—And have you seen him since?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Where is your bread?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—I have some here. <span class="directline">(<i>He reaches up into the bag.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i36">Has no one seen him since?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—He was out on the mountains every day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before, either by the abbey over there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or climbing in the vines above the tarn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But always in the shade of rock or tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he crossed spaces where the sunlight fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas always in the shadow of a cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one has seen him since he disappeared.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Laying the bread upon the grass.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You know the song that Wiglaf used to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of how Val-father wanders over the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In human form—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— That is what Rudolph says;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father turns his dark side to the earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—And leaves swords sticking in the rock and trees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Rudolph insists that Oswald will return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He says that Selma learned it from the trees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She listens in the forest all day long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the wind is loud and the boughs sway—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—How could he ever find us here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How that could be; Woden knows where we are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where he turns his face the way is clear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Oswald has turned his back on Woden's face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—Blind Hoder wandered once as far as Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he came back, for Woden in his mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Directed him and—Here comes Canzler now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Is that the sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— What was that he said?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—He must be going down to see the priest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With the sword at his side and wearing a cap made of a</i> +<i>wild-cat's skin, its head upon his head and the rest of</i> +<i>the skin hanging down his back, Canzler comes down</i> +<i>the sheep path, followed by Rudolph.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—More than two years have passed and not a word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ever said to throw the claim in doubt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now that Hartzel is about to die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They think to get the whole tract for the Church,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the ground that he who sold the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Hartzel was apostate to their Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—They don't deny that the man owned the land?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—He owned the land till he disowned the Faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by that act he dispossessed himself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, they say, the land reverted to God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—And Hartzel's money, to whom does it revert?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—That is a matter between infidels,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And proves, when they rob one another so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no honesty outside the Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The man that sold the land robbed Hartzel, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—If knavery is all outside the Faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Will you men have some breakfast?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And did they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell Hartzel on what ground they had seized his land?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—"All land is God's, and pagans have no right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To own it," was the answer that he got.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was a month ago, though. When they found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the wind passed and still the fruit hung on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking perhaps 'twould fall of its own weight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They waited until yesterday and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unexpectedly they bumped the tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hartzel should hold possession during life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is about to die—and at his death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Church should take the burden of the estate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his dead shoulders, and carry it without charge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with it save his soul from Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And save<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His children—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— From the path that leads to Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Is that their proposition?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— That is it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old man in despair appealed to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—What are you going to tell them, Canzler?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—What am I going to tell them? Tell them what<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father tells the mountains, tells the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees, the beasts, the birds, all things that live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woden, who made all things, made each to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Different from the rest. He made the oak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bear its acorns and the pine its cones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mole to burrow and the fox to run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagle to hatch her brood upon the crag<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the sun, the bat, in the dark cave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ox to eat grass, and the lion flesh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each to go its own particular way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a path as separate and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As are the curves and risings of the stars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz and Conrad come forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He made no bell to ring all things that live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sameness in their lives or in their thought.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To keep them, as he made them, different,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave to each an individual taste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And matched the taste within with that without<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, when the two meet, the result is joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy is the voice of each thing as it moves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward Woden on the path that he laid out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagle finds its way without a guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Woden, and the stars without a guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each in its own light, and all things that live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the blind worm to the all-seeing sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follow their joy and come at last to him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagle's right to go the eagle's way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not conditioned by another thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save by the fact alone that it is so:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Woden gave to it an eagle's wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so with man. To what man has a right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He has a right because he is a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not because he is a kind of man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father's bells have each a different tone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cannot make the million aisles that lead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him one aisle and drive all things through that,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or make the right of each to be and to have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest on its answering a particular bell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we admit their principle that Faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or anything outside the fact that one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a man, is the basis of the rights of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shame our Saxon fathers who fought and died<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a lie, if this be true. For when the South<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pushed through the Frankish forest with her sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between her teeth, and stained with blood, and held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hands out, saying, "Here, take this or this,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our fathers chose the darkness of the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the red hand, and left the black hand filled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that which now to keep itself alive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eats Hartzel's land and licks its fangs toward us.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When the great night came on and they laid down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under their battered shields and broken swords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees have told us what their last word was:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The northern air will kill the southern lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we will come again. Remember this."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And here we are.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— It may not be dawn yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some are up before the light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead will rise when Balder comes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— But now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father has his dark side to the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And works in his own shadow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— But the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will reach down and lift Balder out of Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Drawing the sword from Canzler's belt.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If we concede to every man the right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As you say, Canzler, to his own belief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must concede to the villagers the right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their belief that they own Hartzel's land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—We do concede it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Their right to their belief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not their right to Hartzel's land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— With them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men are God's vassals, and the land they hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hold in fief to him, on terms of faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—And while they keep the Faith, they keep the land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—And when they lose the Faith, they lose the land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking aside.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And when they have no Faith, they have no land.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He tries to pierce with the sword a pine tree in the sunlight.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Try that one in the shade there.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The sword passes deeply into the second trunk.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Is it through?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Looking behind the trunk.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">More than a hand's breadth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— If the village dogs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snap at you as they are wont to—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— I shall have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No trouble with them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— And yet you expect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell them what you said just—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— I expect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hartzel to have his rights. Fetch it here, Conrad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The Bailiff, Canzler, is a rabid man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—I have no business with the Bailiff.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To reach the church, you must pass through the street.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Is it too narrow for two men to pass?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He receives the sword and goes left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—For two such men as you two are, it is.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—With swords on thighs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking back toward the fire.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i18">The hilts might knock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>—(<i>Following him.</i>) Or blades.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Above.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'm going with you, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— No, Selma;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who comes running down the path.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i8">Just to the dingle; the faries say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heather-bells are out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Let her go, Canzler.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Throw the white blooms away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Throwing away a sprig of dog-wood.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i49">Now may I go?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—They make you sad. <span class="directline">(<i>He starts down the slope</i>.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— I'll not cry any more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll be gay, Father, if you let me go.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She turns and looks questioningly at Rudolph, who nods to</i> +<i>her. Then, skipping forward, she takes hold of the hilt</i> +<i>of her father's sword and steadies herself with it as they</i> +<i>go down the slope.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>—Come back and have a woodcock.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph walks back.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— There he goes. <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">O Canzler!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— He don't hear you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Who?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— The Priest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Which way is he?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— Riding down toward town.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph joins the others, and the three stand looking off</i> +<i>left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Directing Rudolph.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Up that way from the Abbey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— I bet he's been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to see Hartzel. (<i>Shouting.</i>) Canzler!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Conrad</span>— He can't hear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—The courtyard of the abbey, as in Scene</i> +<i>three of the second act. The large crucifix which was</i> +<i>seen in the forest in the first Act is fixed above the door of</i> +<i>the chapel. On either side of the door is a stained glass</i> +<i>window, the farther one depicting the Transfiguration,</i> +<i>the nearer one, the legend of St. Giles. The deer with</i> +<i>blood dripping from a wound in its haunch stands behind</i> +<i>the saint who holds in his hand an arrow with blood upon</i> +<i>its tip. The emporer and his huntsmen are presenting</i> +<i>the saint with golden cups. The deer is watching them.</i> +<i>Several rude benches of stone are ranged alongside of the</i> +<i>dormitory. In the rear, about ten feet back from the</i> +<i>building, a low stone wall extends across, passing behind</i> +<i>the dormitory on the one side and the chapel on the other.</i> +<i>To the left, far back, is seen the side of the mountain on</i> +<i>which the abbey stands. The upper part is thickly wooded,</i> +<i>and below, where the timber is sparse, a road winds down</i> +<i>the cliff to the village. Farther down, the slope becomes</i> +<i>more precipitous and is covered with bowlders and</i> +<i>stunted evergreens, some of which have been broken off</i> +<i>by rocks tumbling from the cliff above. Off to the right,</i> +<i>a space of sky with the snow-peaks flashing in the sunlight.</i> +<i>To the left in the last Scene, they are now far to</i> +<i>the right.</i></p> + +<p><i>From a door in the dormitory facing the court, Ely and</i> +<i>Pierre enter. The former has a hunting horn suspended</i> +<i>from his shoulder by a chain, and in his hand a small</i> +<i>wooden crucifix. Pierre carries two large silver candelabra.</i> +<i>They come out talking.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—For he was old and he had come four miles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—A cripple too! When was this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Yesterday.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I showed him this and said: "Good man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is a rood he carved with his own hands,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light filled his eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— And had he come so far?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Ely walks forward and looks around the corner of the</i> +<i>dormitory.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— <span class="directline">(Turning back.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I must be at the gate when father comes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four miles on crutches. Suddenly he looked up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must have seen a wing flash in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his face brightened with the light of faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a seed he seemed to scent a shower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—What did you do?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— I asked him to kneel down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, what a power there is in holy things!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sooner had I touched him with the rood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than like a plant he rose up from the stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blossomed; cried: "Lord Jesus, I am cured!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the mountain ran shouting for joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—The Holy Virgin bless us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Yes, he did;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran down. I watched him till he disappeared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then turned to stone. I could not stir, but stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frightened as though an angel hovered near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the blue sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— Oh, I have felt it too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These two days have to me been like a dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am dizzy as on some high place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At night I feel the stars are not far off,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I wake, it seems to me the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is breaking far below us on the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So near we are to that which lights the sun, <span class="directline">(<i>He holds up the candelabra.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">These candles, if I should dare to speak the word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would burst out into flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Pierre!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—(<i>Still looking up.</i>) Oh, surely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely the hands that lifted Oswald up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifted our abbey too, and we are close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heaven. Perhaps about us in the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are voices and the wings of those that hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our very whispers,—martyrs, saints, Saint Giles.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—You make it terrible to live in flesh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Oh, terrible! It is terrible to live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every word drops in an angel's ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel that every breath should be a prayer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—I feel so too, Pierre. These acts of grace—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Are but the sparks of power.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He starts toward the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Mere sparks, you think?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These healings and this rescue from the gulch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mere sparks?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— Simply the scattered beams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— And yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same great light hath kindled one and all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it not so?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— All these will vanish when—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—Tell me. Go on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— When the full orb shall burst.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—What do you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—(<i>Mounting the steps.</i>) I dare not speak it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Brother!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Ely, we stand in darkness by the Tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little beams flash on us from the chinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the full glory, flooding all the vault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaits the angel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Is it the dream you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—No one must ever tell him, Father says.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>—You think then that the dream will be fulfilled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it is Oswald whom the hounds of Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will chase up some vast mountain of the soul?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Soon the stone will stir. <span class="directline">(<i>He enters the chapel.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ely</span>— Pierre!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>While Ely stands hoping that Pierre will reappear, loud</i> +<i>laughter breaks from the open door of the dormitory,</i> +<i>and Simon and Basil come sprawling out. The former</i> +<i>is pulling at a piece of flesh. Ely's face shows anger,</i> +<i>and he starts left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— His crutches!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He laughs aloud.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—Here he is now. Ely!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Calling through the door.</i>) Hear that, Rene?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beggar left his crutches for his gift.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Laughter within.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—You ask him. Ely!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Ely unlocks the iron gates and passes out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Bring the crutches, man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simon's got the gout.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rene comes out and joins Basil in laughing at +Simon. The latter, eating his meat, walks back +in the court. Basil whispers to Rene.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>— When was it, Simon?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—Yesterday. I was sleeping on the bench<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the old codger's shouting waked me up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there he was. <span class="directline">(<i>He points up to the road.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i19">I thought the man was mad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or had been in the gables robbing nests,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his white hair fluttering in the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked like a pair of pigeons on his poll.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must have thought the Devil— <span class="directline">(<i>He sits down on a bench.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Or else Ely.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Yes, chasing him for his pay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Indignantly.</i>) His crutches!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Drolly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">He left his sole support.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They all laugh. Basil, who has come forward, peeps round</i> +<i>the corner of the dormitory. Withdrawing quickly, he</i> +<i>hurries back toward the door.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Excitedly, in an underbreath.</i>) Rene!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points back over his shoulder with his thumb.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—(<i>Huskily.</i>) Simon!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Simon leaps up, jerks away his meat, and, wiping his mouth</i> +<i>with his sleeve, hurries after the others into the dormitory.</i> +<i>From the right, the Abbot enters followed by a</i> +<i>train of monks. He wears a miter and a flowing cope</i> +<i>of scarlet, richly apparelled. From the end of a rosary</i> +<i>about his neck dangles an ivory crucifix. The monks</i> +<i>are all in black and wear their hoods. Upon reaching</i> +<i>the center of the court, the Abbot raises his staff and the</i> +<i>procession stops.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Saint Martin hath restored the golden dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And put the clouds to flight. The kingly sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks on the world like our new-risen Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driving the night before Him. And the fiends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fly with darkness from the pit of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To conjure with the baleful midnight stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wreck God's holy chime of human souls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are scourged to Hell, and all the rebel orbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are thunder-stunned. Vapors and noxious fogs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hatch contagion in rank, drizzling swamps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will soon beneath the lightning's flagellum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With breezes fan their fevers from the blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with pure sea-dews from green ocean urns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprinkle the parched earth to cool the vines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preparing clusters of our dear Lord's blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The serpent spawn of imps and evil dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fairies and watching wanderers of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That kennel in the bowels of the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taint its waters, blight the tender sprouts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sow infections through the flocks and herds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have flown like bats into the squalid caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there are numb with fear. O'er Zion's towers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virgin dawn brings forth the sun of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiles upon the world. The blessed light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreads o'er the earth its bright, archangel wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dripping with balmy dews and cassia smells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day will—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>High up on the mountain is heard the blast of a trumpet.</i>) Hark!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Monk</span>— It was Ely's trumpet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Some one comes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— The asses from Italy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing the wine and frankincense, no doubt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Monk</span>—And the golden chalices.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— And Father's cope.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre comes from the chapel</i>.)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Pierre!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— What it is, Father?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Is the ambry clean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—It is, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Go find Louis, and fetch—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetch the diotas and—let's see—three casks.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<div class="directcenter"> +<p>(<i>He saunters toward the gate. Three monks follow</i> +<i>Pierre, right. The rest disperse about the court, the</i> +<i>greater part eventually finding their way into the chapel.</i> +<i>A few walk back in the rear and stand looking up at</i> +<i>the road. Three monks, who came in at the end of</i> +<i>the procession and who all the while have stood perfectly</i> +<i>still, slip back their hoods and discover Simon, Rene,</i> +<i>and Basil. At the corner of the dormitory, Pierre and</i> +<i>his companions meet Louis entering</i>.)</p> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of the Monks</span>—The train has come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— Father says bring the casks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"><p>(<i>Louis reaches under his gown and produces a large iron</i> +<i>key which he hands to Pierre. He then passes into the</i> +<i>court. The four go out</i>.)</p> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Calculating.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Thirty gallons and six—(<i>Turning.</i>) Four casks, Pierre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—The chopin too, Pierre. You know the men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mule-men will be dry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Or Simon will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Or Basil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Or Rene.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— (<i>With his hand to his mouth.</i>) Or Father.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They laugh.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Louis!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The shutter near the corner of the dormitory opens, and</i> +<i>Solomon leans out. He has a parchment in his hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—<i>Quid est</i>, Leo?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Telling his beads, on one of the benches.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i37">The wine train has arrived.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>—From Paradise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— Don't be irreverant.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—-(<i>To Soloman.</i>) Let no man look on wine when it is red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—I shut my eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Holding their sides for laughter, Rene and Basil stagger</i> +<i>back toward the rear. Soloman withdraws from the</i> +<i>window.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— Father will tend to you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Simon makes faces at him and follows his companions.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking aside with Louis.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Say nothing to the strangers of the affair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Of finding brother Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— No, not that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fall, his being found before the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that, no doubt, the villagers last night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poured into their ears. The folk are deeply stirred.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From tongue to tongue the flame of rumor runs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heavenly hands bore Oswald from the gulch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They think the holy saints have blessed his palms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With power of healing and of miracles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alms have increased ten-fold. Cattle and sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jewels and coin, and corn and casks of wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour in from every side. Within a year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">St. Giles will swell her roofs and shine in gold— <span class="directline">(<i>Confidentially.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Provided, Louis, provided. You understand?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You mean the abbey here will robe herself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In purple cloth-of-bodkin stiff with pearl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provided—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— This new loom shall keep her hum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—That here red wines will flow to flush her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provided—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Hand in hand upon the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sudden sun that hath sprung up the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall lead the vine and pour his blood to swell—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—That morning when it strikes her eastern gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will see her heaving heavenward dome on dome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provided—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Ay, that's it. You understand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The quarry for our domes is in our brains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, in our brains, your brain and mine, Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have the shuttle of that wonderous loom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shall array her in her cloth-of-gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is the sun, the bridegroom of the grape.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here, from hills of France and Italy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purple bride shall come and loose her zone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay her dower in the abbey's lap.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lock up that jewel, Louis, in its case.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let it not get abroad that you suspect—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspect, I say; you surely do not know—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—I only know of what I heard and saw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard his voice and—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You were fast asleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—At first I was; then, wakened by the shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three times I heard him cry out in the dark:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Haro! help! help!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— A voice, of course; but whose?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night so alters sound you cannot tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cat-o'-mountain screaming in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the world sounds like a wailing child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—But when I see the track, I'll tell you then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The track up by the gate, and it's there now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the dwarf's track, four toes on the left foot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Preposterous, Louis, that this hunched devilock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought up on witch's dugs, in the dead of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be about the service of the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asses can talk like men when angels bid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps the angels, taking him in the act<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of throwing brother Oswald from the cliff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scourged him before them to the abbey gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made him in his pain cry out for help<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And set his print to attest the power of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Brother Oswald, perhaps.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Only God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But make no mention of the witch's son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When truth is whist and doubt a favoring gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blowing toward golden islands in the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the ship drive before it into port.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one was with you when you found him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—No one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And no one saw you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—No one. It was still dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brothers were asleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Say nothing of it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let rumor blow it as a miracle.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet feet of saints have run down in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a touch enriched a holy house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of no more worth than this of good St. Giles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rumor of saints can do as much as saints.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thoughts of bright wings stirring in the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can kindle hearts to deeds of charity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by those deeds the Virgin's chapels rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the flame run. We'll blow it through the land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've had the brothers circulate report<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wings were seen dissolving in the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the mountains.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>With a smile.</i>) So, perhaps, there were—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">agles wheeling airily in the clouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this not, Father, to build upon the sand?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—To build on sand is to build on a lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—What is a lie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—A lie is not a thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is not, but a thing that cannot be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to say good is evil is a lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For good cannot be evil. But to say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That that hath been which God hath power to do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to make faith a fact. In days like these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Albigensian heresy is rank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We must support the Holy Writ in this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That what is done in thought is done in deed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has a good deed been done? Then a good thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has done that deed, and that good thought is God's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such thoughts we call angels.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Oswald, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was rescued by the angels?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Without doubt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The globe of fire that Dominic beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above our Lady's chapel in the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Prouille was a light in his own mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—The multitude will never understand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This nice distinction.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Just so; but shall we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show them the foul body of fair Truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the clear spirit?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—The spirit, Father.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never doubt the end you have in view.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You doubt the means, though. Deep down in your heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You smile and say: "But Father is all right.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The times are fire, and fight for Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To build the abbey, Father must have gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To get the gold, the people must be bilked.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Father will return them light for gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never doubt the end he has in view."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You are the brain, Father; I, the hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know that I would help you. You know that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Anyway, Louis, I am justified.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For simple souls find joy in simple faith.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go down into the village. Guido tells me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their faces shine because of this bright thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It purifies and cheers them. Cyprian says<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no power that does not come from God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He might have said the same of light and joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall I, to whom what I know this thing is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems quite as strange as what they think it is—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That angels did it—, take their light away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because I know it falls not from a star?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand lamps burn in the House of Life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I walk through its chambers and say: "This,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children, and this, now these were lit of Hell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that one there—see how the oil of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goes up the wick and throws a brighter flame"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless they see it brighter, it is not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot see it so without my eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot have my eye and keep their own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they must keep their own a little while;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least until I get my abbey built,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until I shout the sun from out the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with its beams illumine the valley there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since its rising on their gifts depends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since their gifts depend on their belief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot tell them their belief is false;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twould bring the abbey down upon their heads;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Benedict would shout forevermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing their night come back without a star.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I cannot tell them what is true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing is sadder than to see a mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drifting between an old faith torn away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a new rock not risen from the waves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wisp must burn until the sun comes up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Lord himself tempered his dazzling truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To simple minds, and spake in parables,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the halo on the brow of things.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall we blow it away?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Is it there?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— For them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is intensely there. And when they come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing their little gifts, what can I say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They ask me, "Is this light?" I say, "Does it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine?" They answer, "Yes." "Then it is light." <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Is it? (<i>A pause.</i>) Louis?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Suppose so; if it shines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And if they say it shines?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>After a pause.</i>) I suppose so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Shall Plato take Saint Giles' faith away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, Louis, is the question of all time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—If he can give him Plato's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <i>If</i> he can.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if he cannot?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— If he cannot— <span class="directline">(<i>He stops.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— What?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ready to give to one who cannot take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who cannot see my light beyond her light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I step in upon my mother's prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With noise, and say: "But see, yours is no god."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pick and pound and blow her hope away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loose her tears upon my father's corpse? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Louis? (<i>A pause.</i>) Shall I?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking about with his head down.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i36">I have naught to say.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Do I still seem to be a hypocrite?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning quickly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What should I say? "Your eye sees false"?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they think rue will keep the devils off,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To kill their thought would bring the devils back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave them fleeing Hell, not seeking God;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A different thing though Benedict knows it not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are not ready for the larger life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a day I cannot make them so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cannot take my light. Shall I take theirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their little light, and leave them in the dark?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take from their hearts the glory and the hope?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How do I know what God means by this thing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they should ask me I must drop my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say: "He hides to-morrow from to-day,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is no answer, Louis, and I know it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can I do? No, I must seem to lie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I am serving God, seem to serve Hell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray to the Giver of Light, "Thy will be done,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then give darkness! Oh, for some power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some angel, Louis, that should come from heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And free us from these bonds of policy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we must hide our light like secret parts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though each shining ray were snake of Hell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, that some god would step down on the peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make us throw our thought out on the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fields their seeds, leaving the god of growth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To separate and slay and bring to sheaf!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I would lay this cope and this aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with my face upon the mountains run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye, run to meet the bright thing coming down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cry, "Hail, hail, hail, hail, thou blessed one!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shaking with emotion, his voice husky.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I cannot be a man!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— But, Father, that—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Accursed bondage harder than the Nile!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—That prophesy that Oswald brings, may it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not mean this very thing, that by his fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this bright rumor that the angels saved him,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A summer cloud that seems to rain down gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May it not be that by this very gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your tower of light shall rise upon this rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And save the North from darkness? May it not?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—But who will save us from our policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From playing hide and seek with God's bright son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the necessity of withholding truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those to whom the vital thing belongs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who do not even hunger for it more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who live and die about a taper's flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calling it star, and sun, salvation, God—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here all round us—Louis, look, the dawn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—The quality of all light is the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Quality, Louis, is not quantity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The myriad spheres of dew leave the fields dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The midnight luster on the swamp is light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough to guide the wild thing paddling there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The willow leaves give light unto the moth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars that fill us with the life to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave darkness in the prowling tiger's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rise and set upon its curve of ball.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God made the day for higher things than these.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some light is not enough for something more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than moth and water-rat and prowling maws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That find their food in flesh. With what design<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit God the radiant pages? For what purpose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hung he the planet Plato in the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With kindred constellations of pure thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I, a mortal man, can lift my hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave a shadow in the valley there?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It fills my life with meaning to know this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God hath ordered so our spiritual world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That every bright thing needs my will to shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it needs His to reach the shining state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of such confidence of God in man!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And I betray it. <span class="directline">(He walks about thoughtfully.)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You betray it? How?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By holding back the truth about the dwarf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I hide the light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You hide it as a seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, if the people eat, the famine spreads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But which, if planted, wide the harvest waves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your own heart tells you you are right in this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—But when, when is the feeding to begin?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I to-day withhold the seed, who knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I will not to-morrow withhold the yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so continue, building larger barns?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the people in the valley die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—But God, who sees your purpose in it all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees the day coming when this rock shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A beacon, and this region full of light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—'Twill never be while Benedict is here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Oh, but look yonder, Father! Three hours ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black clouds besieged the east, and lo, now Day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands on the mountain tops and sees them not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Night has gone there's room for Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I know that, Louis; but the years go by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, to use the little breath I have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In doing what I never did before!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How is it I cannot tell them what is true?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—'Twould crush in seed the abbey you would build.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—How can an abbey rise upon a lie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You said it was not a lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— It is a lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until they know that it is not a lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Will you tell them?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking about.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i35">I am bound,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Bound hand and foot by cursed policy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot be a man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Many a church<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has lies like this above the altar place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—My abbey was to be part of the one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You said, "Until they know it," Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—"As I do." <span class="directline">(<i>The Abbot turns.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">Do you doubt it was the dwarf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I do not doubt the fact in the case, but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may not limit its significance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a smile.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">An angel or a god, then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Half so, yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—To free us from our policy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Pray God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may be, Louis, pray God it may be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That unknown god should have an altar here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, Louis: what I mean is simply this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This thing that we call evil, may it not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be the other side of this thing we call good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The passing of bright planets of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming eclipse that is no thing at all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simply the passing of the two things, both bright?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God ever wrestles with his shadow, Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the bright goes down and now the dark:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And man stands by and watches the great game<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heart divided and with swaying mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifts whichever falls. The game goes on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever, and the nations rise and fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever, and fall and rise. And so they strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like light and shade over the mountain slopes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wrestling not for victory but strength.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And you and Benedict?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I am not his foe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come from Florence and he comes from Rome.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And you love painted windows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I love God;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loves the Church. There is the difference.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He iterates with fire in his eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not a word that Ignorance shall fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Passion lose her lightning in the deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wrestle with the bright against the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—For the world-soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Neither of us may win.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fact, I pray God that we may not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— How?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I hope that some free, some <i>free</i> spirit may win.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one wrapped round with ignorance, nor one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound hand and foot by cursed policy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I am not his foe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— But he is yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Night does not understand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— I cannot see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Louis, the greatest man in this great world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is he who sees all things are going right.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet fights as though all things were going wrong. <span class="directline">(<i>Louis shakes his head.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I know you don't. But I can do no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than show my thought. To see it, must be yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Then Oswald's fall—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Not if it gives him strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do the work his spirit bids him do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wrestle with the dark and with the bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wrestle better than he did before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shake the fruit down of that prophesy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows what God behind the horizon holds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Oswald till the dawning of that day?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I somehow feel the dream is, as it were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warp to which the prophesy is woof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that beneath the hills unseen a loom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rocks as it weaves in dogs and storm and deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And underneath the meaning of it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I was speaking of the witch's son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This pebble here I take up in my hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn it, yet I always see one side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other side is toward the underworld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though I turned it till the Judgment Day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That side would still be round there. Bid it grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swell to a bowlder's, now the chapel's size,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now a globe's. And let us hold it thus.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above us, on our palms. Like Atlas now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stand supporting it. <span class="directline">(<i>Pointing as though under the globe.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i24">Down here I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little night following a little day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About a water-drop, a grain of sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A point in which my spirit lives and moves. <span class="directline">(<i>Reaching up and around.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">How do I know that up here are not worlds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit with Gods' providence and bathed with soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is my thought that it should scale these zones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take my law of good and evil there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And recreate that life to what I know?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is my eye God's, that it should see all things?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From what far mountains come the grains of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sparkle in the river of my soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ranges of being and tall peaks of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May hold up here a brighter metal still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some burning thing would dry my river bed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreams that vein the dark sky of our sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lightnings vein the night and then are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence come they and whither go they, that they leave<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Vast expectation and the vacant eye?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And out beyond the chalice of our sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cases round my dew-drop soul, who knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What oceans roar with life beyond our life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spray with stars the dark rocks of the void?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How do I know what creatures come and go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond my little line of night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doing the will of the Eternal Mind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not Benedict to say, "This is He,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this is not."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Not even of the dwarf?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—God is the author of the book we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose pages are the mountains and the stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though He may sit aloof, his soul pervades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each word and letter. Prowling in the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain lion feels Him in her paws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild creatures of the caves are His.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Was He in Oswald's fall?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— 'Tis past my thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How He should not be;—in his rising, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If God is with me when I climb a hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I descend do I leave God somewhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the top? If only he ascends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How came he in the valley, then, at first?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the ignorant halve the universe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thresh events and say, "The <i>wheat</i> is God's,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piecing their small minds out with nothingness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chaff too served its purpose in its time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while it served its purpose it was good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like the wheat it drew its strength from God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having served its end, is wheat itself not chaff?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Oswald's fall is evil in our minds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is because we do not see its place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where my knowledge ends, does God end, too?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our brother tumbling from the bluff that night<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Into the gorge, but tumbled, as it were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Off of God's fingers into his great palm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ascent and descent are in one straight line.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see no angle in the universe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A break in things, a point where God begins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Satan ends. If, in this strange event,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The people see a movement of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stand amazed, I stand even more amazed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At what I see than they at seraphim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what I see is darkness giving light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An earth-born thing showing capacity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For deeds divine, and busy in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not with its own low nature but with God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grapple with it and my light goes out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel as though I walked in a strong wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along a reed, with only faith for eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason calls it to me with a blind man's voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That helplessness should bring an angel down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is that as wonderful as that it should bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A devil up to do an angel's work?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What <i>we</i> see, Louis, is the miracle.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What <i>they</i> see, while it jars our sense of things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falls nicely into the mental harmony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Good becomes evil having served its end.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Benedict would rage should he hear this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Each mind takes of the light what it can hold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You know that day in the scriptorium,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you were reading the Symposium,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What he said, do you remember?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes, I do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—"If I had my way I would burn that thing."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—A beam of the sunshine hurts the owl's eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And he would peck the stars out if he could.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—As though our faith were fungus!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— If it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it must feed on darkness, let it die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking about thoughtfully.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It need not feed on darkness, Louis.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— This<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miracle, Father, will bring back the day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The Age is torn and shaken. Passions swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And range like winter rivers. I would have it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lucid and calm as Arno flowing down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sacred Florence. I am far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far away and my hairs begin to fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—This will bring back the day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— (<i>To himself.</i>) And nothing done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stands with his eyes upon the ground. Then, dreamily.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young faces radiant with the golden air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Plato breathed among the olive leaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Half aloud.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">"If I had my way I would burn that thing."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Half to himself, his back to Louis.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And if I had my way—(<i>He lifts his face.</i>)—<br /></span> +<span class="i21">Oh, I would build<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An abbey! I would cut its trenches deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down into God, the God of all things. Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would lay the white stones of Philosophy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Sages who, as gifts to Delphi, brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Small sheaves of wisdom, offering them to God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As better gifts than first born bulls and goats.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I would slay the griffin, Policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scatter its bright gold about the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lay its carcass for the corner stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its telamons should be those giant men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who propt the fabric of the ancient world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The east and west and north and south should lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their four white corners on the four broad backs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Plato and his solid pupil's mind,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then him who dove too deep for Rome to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lucretius, maddening round the seeds of things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Cicero because he loved the truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there should stand all round as peristyle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bards of Greece in cluster, speaking gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young Sappho with the glory of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All round her milk white throat and marble arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud Pindar fawning kings, and Sophocles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he, he, Aeschylus, wild son of fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who never swerved for mincing Policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But spake his sea-thought out and shook the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its roof should be the shields of golden song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever burning on the hills of Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever smouldering in Eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I would have all planets God hath hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first His word went forth, "Let there be light,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within our spiritual heaven, shining here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without eclipse forever. And up there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In alto relievo on the frieze, should be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo slaying python Ignorance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Darkness with the face of Benedict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half hung down, heavy, livid, hands and teeth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tugging and biting at the architrave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tear these golden letters from the slab.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">The soul is in the brain</span>." And over all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Towering with her calm eternal eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athene, soul of Athens, holy One.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I would build an abbey!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>As in prayer.</i>) Father! Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Guido</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Appearing at the door of the chapel.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The fifteenth chapter has that blue stain on it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Pointing right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">In the scriptorium, the second shelf;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Get the Symposium; I will read that.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Horrified, the monk stands for a moment, then goes slowly</i> +<i>down the steps across the court, every now and then</i> +<i>glancing back over his shoulder at the Abbot.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In a low voice.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Remember, Father. Is this policy. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You know your abbey is not risen yet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>The Abbot bows</i> +<i>his head. Louis lifts his hand as a signal. Guido,</i> +<i>crossing the court, stops and stands waiting.</i>) +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One breath of this would bring the rafters down. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning, with his eyes closed.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The other Bible, Guido.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>The monk quickens his step and</i> +<i>enters the dormitory.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— And you know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some of the brothers might tell Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he would send it blazing down to Rome.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Lamp after lamp goes out for policy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He opens the gate through which Ely passed.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Better one lamp than total darkness, though.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Say nothing to the carriers of the affair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Have you cautioned Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Astounded.</i>) Cautioned Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You said he was unconscious.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— When I found him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was unconscious. But from what he dropped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yesterday in his cell, I am sure he knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was the dwarf that brought him up the rocks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You should have told me that. <span class="directline">(<i>He walks to and fro.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Where is he now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—He had four golden letters to put on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Down in the village at his work again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— He insisted.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Under his breath.</i>) Benedict! (<i>A silence.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Get ready and go down. A word from him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the abbey falls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Never to rise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And yet—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do not think he'll tell it. Rumor, you know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has stamped an image on the heated mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never could efface it by a thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So monsterous as that devils had turned saints<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tripped the air with angels, hand in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moving as musically as summer stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having no coin that bears the face of truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never will suspect a counterfeit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so no one will put the question to him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unquestioned, certainly Oswald will not speak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—But if he should? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i35">Awhile ago you prayed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some god to free us from our policy. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What time did he go down?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Before day-break.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The town at that time would have been asleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And Benedict, who never sleeps?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Go down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Whose dragon eyes are ever open?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He starts toward the dormitory.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Supposing Oswald has already told?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he has, Benedict will come up here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raging as upon a den of wolves. Then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he should say: "Ha! So it was the dwarf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not an angel saved your monk. And here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You pass the deed off as a miracle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To swell your abbey's revenues and rob<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me of the alms of my parishioners?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sees me coming down the mountain side<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And shouts this at me, and I say to him—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Surprised, amazed, you lift your hands: "Mon Dieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A son of Satan save St. Giles' child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do devils, then, wait upon men of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Working salvation? Do they? If they do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What means this storm of banners in the dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, 'Dieu le volt!' and these bright harnassed knights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trampling the Orient into battle smoke?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why this vast tumult in the dead sunrise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If devils will take up arms and fight for God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why roll these human surges down the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To smoke and break about the Sepulcher<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hard white foam from which the ravens fly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Hell lead forth her legions from the pit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impervious to drought and pain alike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take and guard the Tomb. No, Father, no.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis blasphemy, the unforgiven sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ascribe to Hell a deed that God hath done."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Says Father Benedict: "But brother Oswald<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told me himself it was the witch's son."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—"Mon Dieu again! Could Father keep his wits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After a fall like that, and, rising, say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'This is the hand that struck me, this that saved'?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was the dwarf that threw the brother down."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With words like these, chisels of policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the shield of each returning knight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath spilt blood about the Sepulcher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We carve an angel that shall plead our cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the fields and villages of France<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far on into the North and—Ah, this train!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This train shall be the trumpet that shall blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our miracle abroad through Italy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Italy is the trumpet of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Talk to the strangers then of shooting stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sounds of heavenly music in the night,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But only when a question calls it forth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climbing the tree gives flavor to the fruit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be reticent; that will add majesty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appear subdued and point to yonder peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, in the gray dawn, gleams of vanishing wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone on the mountain snows like molten gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You understand? About the witch's son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Adeste cum silentio.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After passing out through the gate, the Abbot turns and</i> +<i>calls after Louis, who is crossing the court.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i32">Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No word as yet to Oswald of the dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would not see the glory of it now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the horror. I should fear the result.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Coming from behind the chapel.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Macias is coming with another sorel. <span class="directline">(<i>Louis enters the dormitory.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Bah, then! Go on. St. Christopher. Plum-head.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Drawing himself up as Rene and Simon come from behind</i> +<i>the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am the Prior. Down, St. Peter! John!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Simon.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Matthew, thou publican!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Bacchus, thou saint!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points forward to the corner of the dormitory where</i> +<i>Pierre and his companions enter with the wine vessels</i> +<i>which they proceed to place beside the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—Simply the old clothes of My Lady Wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—The blessed Virgin grant it be the train.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had half yielded to old Andrew's dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feared the train was lost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Monk</span>— Another dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—Last night, between the glances of the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While his soul grabbled in the fogs of sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He beheld Father's new cope in a brook,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Swishing against a fallen sycamore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The censer and the golden chalices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay gleaming on the gravel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who has been tipping the casks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i28">And the wine?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—While he was hunting for it in his dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a blind weasel for a nest of eggs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And had his hand on what felt like a skin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The matins rang. He's been gruff ever since.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a holy bell can call to prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To smooth our spirits with the thought of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But brings him from his hole with ruffled quills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threatening the belfry with his palmer's staff.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He says he hopes the Devil has snared the train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spurred the asses off the bluffs to Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—Now God forbid, with all that precious wine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Leo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Basil.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I shall tell Father on you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Imitating Leo's small voice.</i>) Hear him roar!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—If you roar, Lion, when the hunter comes—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Soloman</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Leaning out of the window.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Heus, heus, O fratres, favete linguis!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The train is safe. The tigers of the god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ramping down the mountain, yoked in vines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose dangling clusters sway their tawny backs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purple all the sky above the peaks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Limp in the car the noisy Bromios<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tips the full cup and stains his ivory breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look, yonder his herald, plump Silenus, comes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points up the mountain over the gate through which</i> +<i>the Abbot passed.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Ho, that's the occasion of the trumpet blast!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—No need of casks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— No need of empty casks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is keel that draws five fathoms full.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—And where it anchors, there a reef appears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—And where it founders, there the—sea goes down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Its beak hath ta'en the color o' the wave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">First Monk</span>.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If Father Benedict had had the train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or been among the muleteers, I'd say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wonder Andrew couldn't find the wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Come on, Simon; let's go meet Macias.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—If we can't wine it we can dine it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>—(<i>As he passes Leo.</i>) Bah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Dressed for travel, appearing at the corner of the dormitory.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Are they in sight yet?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— It was not the train.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas Father Benedict.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis stands as one stunned.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">What can it mean?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis crosses the court and takes a position at the corner</i> +<i>of the chapel near the gate.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>—He never came as early as this before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Monk</span>—And see how worried Father looks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— I fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That some one has told Oswald of the dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he has fainted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Monk</span>— I will loiter about.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With his eyes upon the ground the monk saunters over</i> +<i>toward the chapel steps and, apparently absorbed in</i> +<i>telling his beads, loiters about in order to overhear the</i> +<i>conversation. The Abbot enters, followed by Father</i> +<i>Benedict leading an ass. Green twigs are stuck about</i> +<i>the bridle. The Abbot appears thoughtful.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What do you mean by wolves?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Wild paws that prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the fold.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And by the fold, you mean—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The Church.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— These wolves live on the mountains here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—They do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And are not far?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Some are not far.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within an eyeshot of the peaks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have even made this abbey here their den?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Would make it so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And from these holy halls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal forth and prey—well, let us say, upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your flock?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—They have preyed there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Since when?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And with the fleeces wiped their heathen mouths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These wolves of Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Ay, wolves of Hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear what I say. Ah, Father, Father!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes we think our Lord is dead in heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His enemies so thrive upon the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see the Devil's squatters on our lands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With deeds that seem to bear the seal of Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, everything they do seems blest of Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They plow and sow; God gives them sun and rain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fields wave green; the frosts are kept at bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They build their barns; Heaven holds her storms in leash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seems to slumber while the singing foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silver their scythes beneath the harvest moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the season plumps the golden ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Satan brings his sacks to get the grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God puts his sickle in and takes the crop.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Or sends a reaper?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Ay, sends Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When vines are bending and the song is heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Bacchus revelling in the bubbling must,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden trumpets of the sun in heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaim a festival and wake the skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angels come tripping to the foaming vats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, while the devils tread the vintage out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brim their bright casks with gushing purple meath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crown the crystal goblets of the saints,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the pulp to slop the swine of Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—In you I see an angel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— With a cask.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And in the abbey here I see the vat?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—A goblet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And in myself a—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Saint.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Ha! <span class="directline">(<i>Searching the Priest's face.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I do not understand you, Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Then I will put it this way: See this garb?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know I am a shepherd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes, I know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And tend a flock of sheep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I know you do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And sheep have wool?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Now we go afield.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do briers grow in pastures? <span class="directline">(<i>The Abbot nods.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">And have flukes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I see. You mean to say that flukes tear wool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—That's what I mean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— That, therefore, from the shears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fleece comes lighter to the shepherd's hands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And to the Master's.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Ha! but in this case—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For your insinuation I perceive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clearly, I think;—well, in this case, I say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It does not follow that the Master gets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less tribute from the flock; for, Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember this: When God's bright seraphim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Collect His revenues, it matters not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether it be your hand that pays, or mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Provided your hand pays, it matters not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Ah, now you leave your figure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— And take yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You climbed the mountain, then—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— To get my wool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And chop the brier?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— That belonged to God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Then tell me this: If it belonged to God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How then do you, His shepherd, claim the wool<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God's own flukes have pulled from his own sheep?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You do not understand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I think I do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I did not mean the brier was God's, but this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it belonged to God to chop it down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—The brier, then, has fallen?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Praise the saints.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You came to tell me how the blow was struck?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I stopped to tell you how I got my wool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You need not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Why?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You know?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I have not spoken since I left him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Well.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—How did you learn it, then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I had a seed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your coming was the sun, your words the shower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It could not help but put forth leaves and bloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Strange, very strange.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— To see a stalk with flukes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put forth a bloom? 'Tis not unnatural.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I do not understand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Nor I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— This:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How that a shepherd could believe a wolf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had suckled a lost lamb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What do you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—That it is strange that you, a priest of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could see an angel's track upon a slope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say: "Here went a devil up the rocks."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—It is too dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— 'Twill ever be too dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see aught but an angel in that gulch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—'Tis midnight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— No; for yonder peaks are flushed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there bright wings are wasting in the dawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Father, what do you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Closing his eyes.</i>) Listen, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In an old abbey down in Italy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There hangs an ancient chime of seven bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft when a child I heard them in the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing like angels in the Apennines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tones so blended, so harmoniously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tuned to the planets that, when twilight fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They were the echoes of the Pleiades.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those old, old bells! I hear them still sometimes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We children called them by the golden names<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Archangels wear. Well, in a storm one night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raphael went down. Some say a huge black hand<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Strangled him in his tower and hurled him down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And others say—mark, Benedict—that God—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Anathema!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— God's hand that shaped the spheres<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hung them in the belfry of the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ring through heaven an universal mass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And set the holy bells of earth in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And set our hearts in tune with holy bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, in the blue cathedral of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One chant might rise from hearts and bells and spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some say that His, God's hand, threw down that bell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I say, anathema!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And so you think—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I think it was the foul hand of Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Ah?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since withered faces skir along the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might it have been some—witch?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I said the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that includes the fingers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— So it does.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well, Benedict, there you and I are one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hold that that which jangles God's great chime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether it strike a sphere or a bell or a heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs from the pit and hath its root in Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Ay, we agree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Then follow the same path<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you shall see your seraph of the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bleed out his strength upon the spears of dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas thought that Raphael's tumbling down the rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had wrecked his silver voice, and so he lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three years half-sunken in a slimy marsh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His golden throat choked up with water-weeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fetid lilies breathing of the swamp.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas said that oft when morning woke the bells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the heights, a drowned voice was heard,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A strangled booming in the marsh-fogs. Well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One Sabbath while the morning star still burned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lone white taper, on a sudden from his couch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient bellman started. The old chime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was singing in its tower, and, like a thrush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That eyeless hath escaped a narrow cage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of Raphael on his bough again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rang through the woods. The eagles on the crags<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook out their wings and circled in the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain shepherds shouted from the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While down the ether, flaming out of the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melodious angels in the sun-burst sang.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With his eyes burning and fixed upon the Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, Benedict, who lifted up that bell?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—'Twas God reclaimed it and restored His chime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—And if that bell had been a—soul, who then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Still God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And if that soul had been— <span class="directline">(<i>Vehemently.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i65">Oswald?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>For a moment they look into one another's eyes, the Abbot</i> +<i>with a penetrating glance, the Priest with a look of</i> +<i>blank amazement. The Abbot quickly drops his head</i> +<i>and walks aside, his face almost white, the drawn mouth</i> +<i>and furrowed brow showing a mind in desperation, casting</i> +<i>about for an escape.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With rising resentment.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What does this mean?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The monk, who a few yards back has been pacing to and</i> +<i>fro in order to overhear the conversation, has stopped</i> +<i>and stands observing them. He has the same bewildered</i> +<i>expression as the Priest. The face of Louis near the</i> +<i>corner of the chapel reflects the palor and perturbation</i> +<i>of the Abbot's.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You put my faith to test? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">A damned insult!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>His brow darkens and he turns aside. Suddenly his face</i> +<i>lights up as with a revelation.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">Ah, I see what it means.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out with it, Father. Speak what God commands. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Before you speak I know what you will say. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Out of pure envy you are silent.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He turns away. While the Priest and the Abbot walk</i> +<i>about, each occupied with his own thought, Pierre and</i> +<i>his two companions approach and stand a few yards</i> +<i>away, observing them.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>With a glance toward the Priest</i>.) Out—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Without turning.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Of envy, or else fear that I would shrink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You need not, though.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Stopping.</i>) I fear that you would shrink?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—To you, too, my great honor has been revealed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I do not understand you, Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning and facing the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you hide it from me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— What are you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hiding from me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You feared that I would shrink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tear those jaws upon the mountain side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your dropping of your eyes shows I am right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Walking aside, composed.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I was not sure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Why did you think that God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had revealed it only to you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I was not sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That what I had in mind you had in mind.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And you thought you would feel about and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I knew it. And if I did not, "Truth, retire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not obtrude yourself on Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows the hunter's dream. If he cannot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discover whose hands those were the hunter saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reach through the green boughs of the Tree of Life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tear the hell-jaws from the holy deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not your fault. And I lose no glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is his own crass mind. He comes from Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Florence is Athens come to life again."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Envy, you think?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I know it. When you asked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hand it was that lifted up that bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew that you were feeling me about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see if I knew that the hand was mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I not known it, do you suppose I think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You would have told me? Of your own accord:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Benedict, God hath chosen you for this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be faithful to it. The glory is yours"? Not much.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You pride yourself on what you think is God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your erudition. But I know some things. <span class="directline">(<i>He walks aside.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—It is hard to know what another has in mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—It may be hard for the Athenians.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I am an old man, Benedict, and with<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White hair the eyes blur and the mind dulls. You,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vigorous in body and in intellect.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scale heights I cannot climb. Bear with me, then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I just now, forgetting youth is past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ventured to tilt with you, is it not enough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you stand there triumphant while I here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie prostrate with my gray hairs in the dust?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He bows his head and walks to the rear.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a superior air.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Rome is Jerusalem, the city of God.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Biting down his smile, Louis advances, his face assuming</i> +<i>a doleful expression.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In a low voice, barely hiding his irony.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Don't treat the old man that way, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You do not know how keenly Father feels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The issue of this bout. Amazed I stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just yonder by the chapel steps and watched<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your spears break into fire. O Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What skill, what skill, what admirable skill!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—In dialectics I do boast some skill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Compared to Father's admirable skill!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a leer toward the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">For what I have I thank no heathen sage.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—With that composure which the gods must feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your reached your spear and slipped his lady's glove—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—His lady's glove?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— The secret from his heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spite of all his desperate guarding it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Guido comes from the dormitory with a large book under</i> +<i>his arm. As he passes toward the chapel he turns his</i> +<i>burden toward the Abbot, who gives it an unconcerned</i> +<i>glance and walks right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Why should he hide it from me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— I can't say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father is not a man to show his heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He no doubt had his reason for it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Humph!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—I do know, though, that Father admires you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Admires me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Scorns me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You are wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—How do you know he does?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Before you came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father had just conceived of a great temple<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With you in large space on the entablature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Opening his eyes.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">That is another proof he knew that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was to have part in that great enterprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And achieve glory. And he lied to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Abbot speaks to Pierre, who turns and goes out, right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You may mistake what Father had in mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He may have thought it would be policy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep you in the dark about this thing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—What cause had he to fear that I would shrink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To face the glory of the Lord that day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis only guilt that fears to face the Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—You may mistake what Father had in mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Too subtle, I suppose, for my dull brain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—I do not think, though, that he envies you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You may have your opinion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You may not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mean you may not know what Father means.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You two know everything.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— I know one thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You would not have said, "You two know everything,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you had been here half an hour ago. <span class="directline">(<i>Walking aside.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">With you in large space on the entablature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—He need not think that God revealed to him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone my glory, for I knew it, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blood appeared on my hands the other night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while the congregation sat amazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The altar cups took fire, and a white dove—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To the Abbot, who has drawn near.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night the brother fell I saw some things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">During service would have made my hair stand up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I been less courageous than I am,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or less near God. You would have quaked with fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sought the books of some old heathen sage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For explanation. I—I went to God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the result that I am ready now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been shown the blood of that great hound. <span class="directline">(<i>He looks at his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And I have got God's meaning. I am called.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, when the chase starts I will make my way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the mountain tops and meet the Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He espies the wine vessels over against the dormitory wall</i> +<i>and goes toward them, pulling the ass by the bridle.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What did you come up here to see me for?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Stopping.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Come up to see you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You are here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I am. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It seems you don't know how I got my wool.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He continues his way across the court. Louis and the</i> +<i>Abbot whisper together. In the rear, from behind the</i> +<i>chapel, Macias, the hunter, enters with a young deer</i> +<i>upon his back, and at his belt a brace of geese. Simon</i> +<i>is holding one of the fowls by the tip of its wing, Basil</i> +<i>and Rene following.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—What'll you have, Simon?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Collops and sauce.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—Pluck-pudding or crupper?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Both, God bless us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Both!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Goose, too?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Ay, stuffed with plums.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>— Why, you just had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hunk of beef.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Sh! <span class="directline">(<i>He points to the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—(<i>Nudging him.</i>) Basil, see the twigs.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The jesters chuckle and come forward toward the Priest,</i> +<i>while the hunter and Simon pass out behind the dormitory.</i> +<i>The Abbot also approaches the Priest, followed a</i> +<i>few feet back by Louis.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>Huskily.</i>) Be wary, Father; it may be a snare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—A little wine will bring it to the light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—Well, it is spring when asses put forth leaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Ay, rue that devils flee from in the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(He looks into the casks.)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—But when you left the town the dawn was bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The dawn was bright?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— The day is two hours old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>After a long look at the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">When I rode out of town the sun's red car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood hub-deep in the western ocean's sand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met the morning on the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh dropt from heaven, with one golden wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright on the pines, the other softly sheathed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In valley shadows thinning round her plumes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night I spent far back among the hills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For three hours in the darkness on the road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I staked my life upon the ass' step<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ass and life upon these slips of rue.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He thrusts his switch into the narrow necked diotas, and</i> +<i>drawing it out, feels the end.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If any manna fell upon the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Devil must have harvested the flakes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found none on the way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I fear the fiend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has washed it down with our good Tuscan wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dressed Hell's tables with the golden cups<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Abbot Boldi sent from Aosta.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tide is out and the Italian moon<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Has slipped her sphere that ruled the purple flood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are the empty shells that held the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre enters, carrying a flagon and a silver cup. Simon</i> +<i>follows him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have something, Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Ah, you are good.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What could have drawn you back among the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every pass was choked with drizzling dag?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I'm like a desert.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—(<i>To Basil.</i>) And there flows the Nile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The service of our Lord that knows no flaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mountains or darkness or the voice of storms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last night—Fill it up.—Last night God's—There.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last night God's dread apparitor— <span class="directline">(<i>He drinks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— What's that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Tasting his lips.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Rumney, isn't it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Not that—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With mock seriousness.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">Isn't it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I mean—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Pour me another, then; I'll taste again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre pours.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You said God's dreadful summoner—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Appeared.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clapped his irons on old—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He drinks and again holds the cup toward Pierre.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—One more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Don't think—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— The night is in my veins.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>To Rene.</i>) It's a dry night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Holding up the cup.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i4">But the red dawn is breaking— <span class="directline">(<i>He drinks.</i>)<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Basil.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The abbey here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And lightening— <span class="directline">(<i>He drinks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>To Rene.</i>) The great deep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—Come, sing the matins, Simon, for the dawn—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Don't think it is the wine I care for.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Ha!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cup, eh?—Take it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He hands the cup to Pierre and leads the ass back to one</i> +<i>of the benches, upon which he climbs and stands fixing</i> +<i>the saddle.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— A while ago you said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's dreadful summoner appeared.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +<span class="i13">(<i>Pierre goes out.</i>) Whoa!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Following Pierre.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Pierre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— Just a tiff.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— No, I say.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Simon</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Supplicating.</i>) Brother! (<i>Spitefully.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Dinky! Bed-bug! Pizzle-wizzle! <span class="directline">(<i>With a grimace.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i31">U-g-h! <span class="directline">(<i>He spits at him and turns back.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who has mounted.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Now if you get my switch, I think I'll go.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>One of the monks stoops and picks up the switch, which</i> +<i>he hands to the Priest, who looks from the Abbot to</i> +<i>Louis and then from Louis to the Abbot.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You see, I could ride off without one word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Without one word of what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Contemptuously.</i>) One word of what!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You think I came from town and so does he.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What of it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Simply this: that I did not.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—We are glad to have learned that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Delighted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Humph!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you don't wish to know where I have been?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—'Tis immaterial.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— That is another proof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You envy me. First, you conceal from me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That which you feared would blow my name abroad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now you fear to hear where I have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because from what you know of me you know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever comes I meet events as friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never sally out but I return<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With spoil, and that stirs up the green in you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now I will tell it though the heavens fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Hartzel's dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I find no joy in that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Of course, you don't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rene</span>—(<i>Calling across the court.</i>) Old Hartzel's dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Under his breath.</i>) Thank God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The monks upon the chapel steps and others sitting about</i> +<i>upon the benches start up and gather forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You don't think I told that to give you joy?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—It matters nothing to me in either case.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—But this will matter something. Listen now.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Leaning over and speaking in the Abbot's ear</i>.)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I get his forty neat and all the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the river and the raddle-hedge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">South of the village, with the acreage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tilth and vines that fronts the rising sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near the White Torrent. Does <i>that</i> give you joy?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He strikes the ass with the switch and starts left.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Basil</span>—(<i>Aloud.</i>) Thank <i>God!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>) This is the work of Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Stopping.</i>) You mean that as reproach?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I simply mean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We had no hand in this; the glory is yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Come with me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He rides on toward the gate. The Abbot walks beside him.</i> +<i>Louis, behind, where he cannot be seen, follows them.</i> +<i>The bell rings and the monks move toward the chapel</i> +<i>and enter, leaving the court bare.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You remember, I suppose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we clashed spears a while ago I said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The abbey here was a goblet, and you a saint.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might say that I spoke in irony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that would not be nice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And you said, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something about an angel with a cask.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—That is a cut at me. I recollect.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said that I would fill your cup.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Proceed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Leaning over.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Of this estate you get one cow. You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's a fine liquor, eh, Father? (<i>To the ass.</i>) Come up.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre comes from the dormitory and crosses the court toward</i> +<i>the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You are an old man and your work is done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may retire now and live on milk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill nourish that great intellect of yours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Under his breath.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">As well as anything that you could give.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I welcome anything that can do that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—If it be heathen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict, before you came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Louis and I were talking of the things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That late have happened.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— The dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Oswald's fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his unnatural rescue from the gulch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—'Twas <i>super</i>natural, not <i>un</i>natural.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—A nice discrimination, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do not see as you do. You were trained<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By masters who, no doubt, had they heard this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distinction, would have said: "<i>Benissime!</i>"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Superciliously.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Well done is <i>optime.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>With mock humility.</i>) Just so—just so—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My master would have said—yes, <i>optime.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">A boon it is that words cannot change things.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre, who has climbed the steps slowly, listening the while,</i> +<i>enters the chapel.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You feared that I would shrink to play my part?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—We feared if you should learn what your part is—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—That I would shrink?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— If you should learn your part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Getting angry.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You feared that I would shrink?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Hesitatingly.</i>) W-e-l-l—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>Say</i> it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shaking his finger.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in your heart you wish I would, old man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twould fill your soul with joy. But mark you this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give you joy is not my destiny.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He rides out through the gate.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Your destiny, Benedict, is in God's hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Thank God it's not in yours. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You must go down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oswald, by noon, will have finished up his work.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stay with him till he does, then bring him back.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—If I go now, though, Benedict will suspect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something is up.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Abbot goes toward the steps, Louis half following him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">As it is, he does not know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Oswald has returned to work. (<i>A pause.</i>) Besides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After his long, hard ride he will want rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will not go near the church. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i32">What do you say? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I will go after service.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— (<i>After a pause</i>.) Very well.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He enters the chapel, followed by Louis.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—A street in the village showing a low</i> +<i>thatched cottage with a door made accessible by steps.</i> +<i>To the left of the door is a small square open window, on</i> +<i>the sill of which are garden plants and pots of winter</i> +<i>flowers put there to get the morning sun. In the corner</i> +<i>of the yard, right, is a well with an old wooden wheel high</i> +<i>up on posts. At the end of the chain hanging from it is</i> +<i>a bucket from which water is leaking back into the well.</i></p> + +<p><i>Madam Valmy, the country-woman who has just come to</i> +<i>town and who has a basket upon her arm, has stopped</i> +<i>before the house and is looking intently left.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—Aunt Rachel!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—(<i>Back in the house.</i>) Yes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—(<i>After a pause.</i>) O auntie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Voice</span>— Yes, child, yes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I get this dough off. Rosa!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From the right, Madam Bacqueur enters. She is bareheaded</i> +<i>and carries a child in her arms.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Every day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some dark deed sends a shudder through all hearts.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Who is it this time?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— No one seems to know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It happened on the mountain, Rosa said.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—I wonder if Father Benedict has returned?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—Returned from where?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— He rode away last night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the mountains. I do hope and pray—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They stand looking left. From the right, Hugh Capet</i> +<i>enters hurriedly. Reaching over the fence to the well</i> +<i>he swings the bucket to his mouth.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You know so many strange and evil things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have happened lately. Just a week ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old mother Sar was palsied. Then young Foy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dead of night, saw witch-fire on the heath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next day two cows, their udders drizzling blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran snorting down the road into the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the village curs that ventured out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came yelping to their kennels cramped with fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though the devils chased them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Did you ever!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(To Hugh Capet who hurries out, left.)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You will come back and tell us what it is?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—That all depends, Madam, that all depends.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—Indeed they did. And that's not all. Thursday<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A black stone fell from heaven. Father said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a challenge. And that very night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Occurred a wonder during complines. Yes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden chalices in the church took fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And circled round the altar. Blood appeared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Father's hands, and while all sat amazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looking to see him caught away to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snow-white dove flew through the trancept wall,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The Holy Spirit, Father says. You know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The canvass that they keep covering the cross<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Oswald carves, round that it whisked and moaned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Rachel says she heard the voice of Christ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the canvass: "It will not be done."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meaning the cross, I thought; but Father says:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Maybe it means God's will will not be done,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so it proved. Disaster came at dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierre, the sacristan of good St. Giles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought the news down to Father Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you have heard of the great miracle? No?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the world has heard of it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— You know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have not been to town since Sunday week.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—Oh, angels have fluttered down on us since then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will again, so Father says. La me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tell you, Madam Valmy, if any grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the churchyard there had jumped a horrid ghost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stalk the moonlight in a rotten shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There'd be less stir among the village folk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not how it was. It seems they found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dear monk, Oswald, bruised and bathed with blood,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"><p>(<i>She clasps her child to her heart passionately.</i>)</p> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lying before the monastery gate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—Why, Clotilde!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Yes, indeed. And <i>that's</i> not all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think we slept through all of it! To think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We did not wake and cry out, "God is here!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then run up and down and ring the bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, expectation kindles every bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For our Lord's coming.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Oh, everything!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How wonderful are mountains angels' feet<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Have trodden on! How beautiful the air!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, everything seems different to me now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I half expect to see the stone put forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A human face and speak to me of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear Madam Valmy, trees are not really trees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Father says, all things have passed away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the miracle the other night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Lord begins his reign upon the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hours I sit and look in my child's face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonder if he sees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Holding up her child.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i34">Fire! fire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O child, child, see the fields, the glory—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—(<i>To the right.</i>) Fire?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Entering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the fire?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—The crowd, you see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— Whose house?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—Rosa ran in and said some one was hurt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—Don't you go with them, husband.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The smith goes out, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i40">Jardin's been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trying to get the men to storm the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kill the heathen and the witch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Voice</span>—(<i>Back in the house.</i>) Rosa!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—She is not here. And he is still alive?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—There's not a night since the dear brother fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what I've heard her on the roof.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Clotilde!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—But oh, the Holy Ghost was with him. Yes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His staff they found next morning and his hood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thank God for that—they found his hood and staff<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the gorge, full forty feet below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain road.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Not over the steep gray bluff!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—Think of a fall like that! At break of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They found him at the monastery gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unconscious, carried there by unseen hands—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—What!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Yes, indeed. And those who found him saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Archangels sitting on the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With golden shields, and there were sounds of war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off as they were fighting in the clouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driving the witches off to hell, no doubt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—On <i>these</i> mountains?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— And even <i>that's</i> not all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Putting her arms about her.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Dear Madam Bacqueur.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— I get so dizzy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must have Rachel tell you. I won't fall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She takes hold of the fence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such wonders and such cures and things to come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dare not think of much less speak of that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such brilliance, la! You should see Father's face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How it lightens when he speaks of it. His eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look far away across the glory fields.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Bretheren, this miracle is but the blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fruit shall fall in fire upon the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray, all of you, that you may be perpared."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—For what?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Catching her breath.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i13">I am afraid I—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Don't try, then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—There is a glory far off in the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father has seen it and his eyes are bright.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +<span class="i0"><i>So</i> bright. Rachel will tell you. Or it may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sees the pilgrims that shall gather here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This morning Marie heard two brothers say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's sure to be a shrine where Oswald fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of it, Madam Valmy, these streets thronged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With holy men that live beyond the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never even thought to pray for that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God does all things so easily, though. And—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all for his dear sake. But I don't know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Scriptures say Satan shall be let loose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—The shrine? Indeed I do.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the last days; in these days, then. Do you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— How good of you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You always did have so much faith.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— You know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day your child was christened—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— Oh, how true!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How like a star his <i>name</i> will shine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— I now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Predict again. He'll be a saint.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In utter amazement.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i20">A—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Saint.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—You think he will? Oh, do you, Madam Valmy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you, indeed? Oh, think of what that means<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To little Oswald here! To wear a name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blessed saint hath worn and given him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his own lips at the baptismal font;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see a white hand beckon from the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear forever in each vesper chime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A saint's clear voice calling his soul to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flower out beneath the holy bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, think, Fidele, some day when he is old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his cloister yonder on the mountain,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When the dear brothers gathered after prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall talk of holy things, and one shall say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My father fought with Montfort in the wars";<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another: "I have seen St. Bavon's tree";<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some old palmer who hath seen all shrines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall tell of Subiaco and the thorns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of good St. Benedict, my boy can say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I grew to manhood in the little town<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the valley. I have never been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the mountains, but each day have heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morning and night, St. Giles' dewy bells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring from these towers the twilight hour of prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet was I favored. When they christened me"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, I can see them wonder at him then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And press about him.—"When they christened me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">St. Oswald stood god-father at the font<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blessed me with his hands upon my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blessed me and said: 'The Virgin keep this child.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A neighbor said his face shone like a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was so full of glory. And the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night the angels brought him from the gorge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laid him here before the abbey gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wore the holy hood my mother made.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They keep it yet inside the sacred chest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There in the chapel." <span class="directline">(<i>Faint shouts far to the left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i22">I am so afraid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jules will go with them. Would you mind if I—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The cottage door opens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have Rachel tell you of that awful dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She goes out, left. With a staff in one hand and screening</i> +<i>her eyes with the other, old Rachel comes sidling down</i> +<i>the steps. Madam Valmy sets her basket over the</i> +<i>fence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>—Clotilde? Marie? Oh, it's Fidele! Why, child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When did you come to town?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Taking Rachel by the hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i13">There's some one hurt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>—<i>Fidele!</i> You frighten me. That horrid word!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>—The crowd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>— Where?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Valmy</span>— Down by the church.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>—Those heathen dogs. Are they in town? I fear—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go out, left.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE FOUR—Before the church which stands about</i> +<i>twenty feet back from the street. Low stone fences on</i> +<i>either side project in to its corners and form with its front</i> +<i>three sides of a hexagon. To the right, in a higher fence,</i> +<i>also of stone, which runs parallel with the street, is an iron</i> +<i>gate, overgrown with vines, leading into the churchyard.</i> +<i>Between the palings can be seen white crosses marking</i> +<i>the graves. In the corners, just where the fences start in</i> +<i>toward the church, stand Lombardy poplars in full foliage,</i> +<i>one on either side. The church is built of rough stone,</i> +<i>with irregular seams of white mortar. In the center is</i> +<i>an arched doorway and beside it two false windows almost</i> +<i>covered with ivy. High up over the door is seen the</i> +<i>lower part of a narrow louvre window with several long</i> +<i>straws, which the birds have carried there, hanging down</i> +<i>from between the slats.</i></p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> + +<p><i>In the open space before the church, a crowd is gathered.</i> +<i>Upon the steps with his back to the door stands Jardin,</i> +<i>the Bailiff. He wears a sleeveless hauberk wrought of</i> +<i>chain, and upon his head a heavy open helmet. Some</i> +<i>distance to the right, upon a step lower down, Jacques Sar,</i> +<i>wearing a leather corselet and a cap of wolf skin, is leaning</i> +<i>with his right hand against the church. His right</i> +<i>arm is off near the shoulder. The crowd is made up of</i> +<i>men, for the most part in their working clothes. Some</i> +<i>have no hats on. Among the latter is Hugh Capet, whose</i> +<i>red head is seen far in near the steps. Jules Bacqueur,</i> +<i>with his sleeves rolled up, stands on the edge of the</i> +<i>crowd. Out in the street to the left, is a group of women.</i> +<i>A boy is up in the poplar tree, right.</i></p> + +<p><i>As the Scene progresses, other villagers enter, among them</i> +<i>the women of the last Scene.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Was Jardin right last week when comrade's wife<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a motion toward old Jacques.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fell palsied and he said: "Let's kill the witch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next thing she'll strike some brother." Was he right?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was he? In here is a cross can tell you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the cross done? Can any man say why?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The holy monk that carves it, where is he?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up yonder on the mountain in his cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nigh unto death. Only the Virgin's hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That plucked him from the pit can save his life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who's to blame? Who is to blame, men? Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You men that shout to sail out to the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swell about the neck as vipers do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blowing against the Moslems, what do you say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the heathen on the mountain up there, eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twenty moons and more have risen and set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since they took up their station 'neath the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in collusion with the hag of hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook pestilence and death upon the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Planets have knocked and fire has fallen and blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has drizzled over all this region. Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What do you think our Lord thinks of these things?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rescue the mountains; they are His Sepulcher.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You want to see Golgotha? <i>There</i> it is.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mountain with a heretic on its peak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is like a spear thrusting a bitter sop<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Up to our Lord's lips even in heaven. You men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who see the sop and leave it there are Jews.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—They're Maccabees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— As for Jacques Sar and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll wear these arms—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Until the Judgment Day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Till our old bodies rot, or see those peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waved over with the banner of our Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you think you will live to see that chase.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know what I would do if I were God?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He draws his sword.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gabriel should pass over with his sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pierce some heart would bow all heads in tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then you would go shouting up the mountains. And<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If this keeps up, you mark me what I say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crosses will thicken out there on that grass.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points toward the churchyard. A man reaches out of</i> +<i>the crowd and touches him on the leg.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But eat and sleep, though. Feed your coward hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then die. And then what? Then the Judgment Day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after that, what? Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stoops down and the man talks with him in an undertone.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>— Who is it's dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Dead? All of us, he says, an the hag lives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—He's right, too.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—(<i>Entering, right, and hurrying to the</i> +<i>women.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">Is it Father Benedict?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Straightening up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It was for that that he rode back there. Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell them? What for? What good would that do? What<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do they care if the heathen keeps his land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see some of you here that yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was down at Bacqueur's. Do I? Do I see you?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Somehow it seems to me I recollect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearing as how old Hulga'd never strike<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man no more since God had saved the monk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And maybe threw her off the cliff herself.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did any of you hear that? Did you men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eh? No one, eh? So Jardin must have dreamed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well, in the dream then Jardin seemed to say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The hag will strike till we have dragged her down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her and her dwarf, Canzler, the big heathen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all his kith, and burnt them in the street."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—You got him in the church, Jardin?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— La, now!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Down with him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Was Jardin right again? Has Hulga struck?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd see the ass he rode you'd think she'd struck.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile ago here some one shouted out:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Who's in the church?" I've got the arrow strung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now I'll tell you, now I'll let it fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wine train's lost; three of the mules are dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two men were crushed to death; our Lord's dear blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witches have poured out on the mountain rocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, has she struck? You think she has, eh? Hugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What did we tell them? Jacques Sar? Bacqueur? Eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Didn't we?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>—How did it happen, Bailiff?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Some one here asked if Canzler was in here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No. Yes. What if he were or what if he is?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You think I'd tell you and see you fall dead? (<i>Madam</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Valmy enters, right, leading old Rachel by the hand.</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of the muleteers rode in for help.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He only spoke Italian. A friar, though,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told me his tale. Last night when the train reached<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Devil's Pass—'twas dark; the moon had sunk—Three<br /></span> +<span class="i0">withered hell-hags, with the skirring clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flying toward Pampeluna to their sabbath,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Lit on a gray crag. Lightning splintered blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About them, smells of sulphur rose, and thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clapped the dark rock. The mountain shook. Straightway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cries of the men rang out. The leaders crashed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumb-smitted with horror, mules and packs and all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down through the chaparral to the gowle below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The witches vanished. All the Pass was still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save through the night the golden chalices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clinking far down the scaur. Then on a sudden<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rosa, excited, runs in, right, and hurries to the women.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grisly hags, crooning a wild song, rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tossing the golden cups up in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a strip of mist went down the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toward Pampeluna. What is the matter, women?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>—They say the hag's in town.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rosa</span>—(<i>In an underbreath.</i>) Sigurd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>— The dwarf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Man</span>—They say the dwarf's in town.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—(<i>Deeply moved.</i>) Men,—!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Boy</span>—(<i>Up in the tree craning his neck.</i>) I see him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder he is by the bridge. He's got something<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shining in his hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—-(<i>His face paling.</i>) What was it the hunter saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his dream, men? What was it that roused the dogs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heathen dogs to chase the brother?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Feeling the tip of his sword.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">To-day God stains the trail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Shout</span>— Down with him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Wait.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Boy</span>—See it! See it flash! It's a dagger!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Shout</span>—Come on, men!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Stop them, Bacqueur! Knock them down!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring those fools back.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hugh Capet, out in the street, waves with his arm. The</i> +<i>men who rushed out, right, return sulky.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of Them</span>—Who is the coward now?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Hush, Noel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Let's have no trouble, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Silence!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Man</span>—'Cause we ain't seen the wars—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Several</span>— Be quiet, Noel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Is that the way you fowlers take your birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush out and throw the net before their eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it? And when the wolves prowl for your lambs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You raise a shout before you stretch the string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you? Here's Jacques. You think he'd have this cap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he had yelled to the brute, "Watch for your skin,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rushed on him waving a club? Do you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eh? If you do, I tell you Jardin don't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'N I reckon Jardin's seen a wolf or two.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This dwarf of Hulga's, you don't think he's sly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you? Eh? Well, he is, sly as a newt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You touch the stones once and you'll see him gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's to be done, then? Listen to Jardin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deploy. You don't know what that means, do you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some of you here are burning for the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fight the Moslems. Just cry: "Allah-ho!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then rush on them, will you? Turks, ain't they?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Listen, men; I'll tell you what it means.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You've seen the falcon 'fore she strikes the hern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open her talons, ain't you? That's deploy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well, then we'll open ours. Three of you fellows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skirt the ford yonder and shut off retreat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the cave. There's one claw open. Halt, men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then two detachments—Here, attention, men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wait for your orders.—Then two squads of three<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +<span class="i0">March up that way— <span class="directline">(<i>He points left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i18">and when you strike the hedge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right! left! one along the wold; the other<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down through the waddy; each to the river.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we've got him flanked. There's three claws open<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bird is ours. Now listen. Listen men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You men that mean to cut off his retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take spears. He'll squawk we pinch him, and the old hen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearing her chick, will swoop down from the rocks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then's your chance; stick her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Mine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Let Jacques have her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—I'll fetch her head back home to mother Sar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He and the Bailiff come down into the crowd.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—What if the heathen charge down on us?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Bah!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—You think he'd leave that peak for all the world?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—After what's happened?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— After this shower of blood?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>—From that black planet came the thunder stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tore the field back there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— You think he would?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Now hear what Jardin says. If he could ask,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what he suffered in the Holy Wars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two gifts of Heaven, and two strong saints should soar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past the green steeples of these poplars here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fold their white wings in that street and say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Soldier, what are they?" What would Jardin say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First this: <span class="directline">(<i>He steps back upon the steps.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i12">Up yonder is a holy monk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom God has blessed above all living men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abaddon hurled him down to take his life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's bruised almost to death. Saints, bring him down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We're going to kindle such a fire here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As friends of darkness, glowering from the caves,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Shall see and then scoot shuddering to Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The crowd shouts.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bring him down, then, and let him see the flames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lick up the limbs that tripped him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>— You're right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—Let's bring him down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shouts</span>— Right! Bring him! Bring him down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Here, men, put on those caps. You think you're saints?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you can fly through air, why bring him down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can't, then hush and hear what Jardin says.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First then I'd say: "Bring down the monk." Then this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a big fellow on the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What calls Thor Father, spitting at our Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the dawn when Christians gather here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To holy mass he stands upon the peaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scowls upon the bells. He and the witch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are brain and bowels to some heathen god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose dark hand works at night beneath the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sapping the towers of Christ. Saints, send him down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him to strap his big old martel on him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He comes down here he'll feel a damaskin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's sliced the Turks and choked the gates of hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ghosts of Allah, and another'll go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloody and hot to Thor. <span class="directline">(<i>Shouts.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i25">Send him down, saints.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some one here says, "If Canzler comes, what then?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll die. Who'll do it? Listen: Jardin will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes down into the crowd that surges and clamors</i> +<i>about him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Line up! <span class="directline">(<i>He chooses nine men, whom he arranges in squads of three.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— (<i>In the first squad.</i>)<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +<span class="i0">About those spears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Stop at the armory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He produces a great key.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You know your orders, do you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Chorus</span>—We do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Jacques.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lead.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>He hands the key to the old man, who puts himself</i> +<i>at the head of the first squad.</i>) +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i15">Bacqueur.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—No, no.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Capet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The two men put themselves at the head of the second and</i> +<i>third squads.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—March!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Madam Bacqueur</span>—(<i>Holding out her child.</i>) Husband!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They pass out, left. Madam Bacqueur looks after them</i> +<i>for a while, then lifts her skirt to her eyes and sobs</i> +<i>aloud.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>—Where are they going, child?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Line up now, men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll strike the front. Women, pray that the saints<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May bring the monk to see this devil burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And send the old warlock down. He will breathe hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I slit his entrails once and put this foot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his big chest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>As he goes along lining up the men</i> +<i>with his sword, the church door opens and, pale and</i> +<i>emaciated, the monk Oswald appears.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fidele</span>—Clotilde! Auntie! Rosa!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Women</span>—Look! Look! <span class="directline">(<i>They fall upon their knees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—What is it, women!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>—Look! Look!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The men cross themselves and fall prostrate. Old Rachel</i> +<i>and the Bailiff alone remain standing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Screening her eyes.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What is it, Rosa?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fidele</span>— Auntie! auntie!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She pulls old Rachel to her knees.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Breath</span>—(<i>Through the crowd.</i>) His ghost!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—What is the matter?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter">(<i>Upon hearing his voice,</i> +<i>old Rachel, who has continued to stare toward the</i> +<i>church, falls with her face to the ground.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>—(<i>In a low voice.</i>) Jardin, speak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—What is it? (<i>A pause.</i>) What is the matter?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Is that you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—What was that shouting?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>A silence ensues. The</i> +<i>monk puts his palm to his breast and coughs.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—(<i>Completing his thought.</i>)—these men aghast here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls up to Jardin's mind a night in the wars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we were storming Acre. The Infidel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sallying out, had laid the Lion Heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low in the dust. The waves of battle clapped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over his head. Barred in with dripping spears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Turk and Christian, raged the bleeding whelp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His paws red-clotted in his own hot blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleaving the gloom, a burst of crimson light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Streamed down the slanting spears and like a prow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolled back the waves of war. Between the crests<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of foam-white faces holy St. Augustine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came walking down the bodies of the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifting the Lion, fired him. At once<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose on the night the planet of his shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning a lane before his falchion fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the slope into the Turks he swept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through dropping shields and sabers thrown in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lurid streak of flame. So Jardin now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing this blessed monk the saints have brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Takes fire, and blown with hate of our Lord's foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will lick the crags and leap from peak to peak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall the flame go out until the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rain heathen ashes on the pit of hell.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Roused by the Bailiff's words, four or five of the men</i> +<i>spring to their feet. The rest rise slowly and remain</i> +<i>mute. Oswald comes down the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Knocking the men with his sword.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Line, line up! <span class="directline">(<i>A man points down the street.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— We'll fix him, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—He'll never strike no holy monk again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—We'll burn the imp!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Father shall see to it, too!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Bailiff strikes with his sword. The line marches right,</i> +<i>double-quick.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Excitedly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Stay, men! Lay no rough hands upon the boy. <br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>The line</i> +<i>halts. The monk puts his palm to his breast and coughs.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—No rough hands on—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— The boy has done no harm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night I fell—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— Here's Father Benedict.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They wait in silence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Ah, brother Oswald! (<i>He comes riding</i> +<i>in, left. The women bow reverently; the men bare</i> +<i>their heads.</i>) <i>Benedicite.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see my children gathered here about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How glad they are to see you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— And I, Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be at work once more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Praise the Virgin. <span class="directline">(<i>Dismounting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You show a Christian spirit coming thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bruised as you are, to do the Master's work.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I promised it should be done to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— And—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I have two golden letters to put on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—God hath his eye upon our altar cross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on you, too, my brother.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— God has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The angels do His will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—And even human hands—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He looks down the street.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— 'Twas marvelous.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I came down I passed the jagged cliff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You tumbled over, and there a while I paused<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entranced, as it were, by unseen Presences.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The boy, who climbed down from the tree upon the arrival</i> +<i>of the Priest, leads the ass out, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mountains wore a new and hallowed look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the morning light. I would give half my life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have stood upon the peaks that night and seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's ministers drop shining down the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blaze the gorge. But God works in the dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At night His golden ladders are let down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deeds are done and no man knoweth how.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At dawn we see the severed hills, the seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Huddled aghast at some vast mountain head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That yesterday lay fathoms in the deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So quietly He worketh in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mountain ranges rise and no babe wakes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can say: "Yonder God is"?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— None, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— None.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hand that executes His purposes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is hidden like the purposes themselves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dwelleth in the storm and in the calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet both look round and say: "Where dwelleth He?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun that shines on all, shines not on Him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He goeth forth at night and doth His will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the moon sees Him not. I rode along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking upon your providential<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Escape from death that night and of the work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath reserved for me in the great chase,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For half the glory is mine. I prayed our Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That if it be His will I might catch some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glimpse of the dogs far off. I could not see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hand before my eyes in spirit, but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyelids down, rode on, probing the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounding deep in my soul the ocean of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finding there bottomless waters.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night of ebony and the golden dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deed the past holds and the future's deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose half way up the sky and called across<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fathomless spaces: "Who are you?" And I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought answer: "Thou art Fall; and thou, with hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright with the morning and with frightened eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fleeing the noise of dogs behind thee, thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art Resurrection and the Peace of God."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Connection I could find none. Stark and lone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stood upon the twilight fields of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strangers, each looking in the face of each,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When through the gloaming came a glittering link<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star-like with the image of our Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bleeding in silver on a silver cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A marriage ring that married them, and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in my soul knew the Eternal and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw Prophesy grappling the North and heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heathendom hiss and coil and loose her folds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then a voice filling the heavens: "Well done."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaking to me, for the glory is mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your crucifix has not been found yet?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And will not be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It must be in the brook.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had it in my hand just as I fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—'Tis in the hand of God where it shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the morning breaks of that great day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Heathendom shall tumble down to hell.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then it shall dangle bloody from the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the mountains shake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— What do you mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The mountains trembled in the tempest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— When?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">During the great chase. (<i>A pause.</i>) Is it possible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You start upon the chase with darkened eyes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I do not understand you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Aside.</i>) Can it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have not told him of the dream? Mum, then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Brother Andrew told me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— And you understand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whom this dark calamity shall fall?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—It has already fallen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Already fallen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You think the stag is down, then, do you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Stag?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You think the chase is run?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Oswald looks at him blankly.</i>) You seem to think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dream has been fulfilled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I do. How not?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This last calamity fulfilled the dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Fulfilled? Nay, nay. The chase has not begun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bruised stag is resting in the grove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hounds of Hell have yet to strike the trail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when they do, my feet are on the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the loud talbot's baying shall be still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—You speak as one whose joy is in the chase.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Glaring at him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You mean by that that I—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I mean, Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You speak as those that chase the deer with hounds—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You mean to intimate that I lead the dogs?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—As hunters do. (<i>The Priest searches the monk's</i> +<i>face.</i>) You spoke of a stag and a trail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—To show you that the dream is not fulfilled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Have you not heard it, then? The train is lost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Thrown from the cliffs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— The witches did it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Blue devil-fire sputtered on the crags and sulphur—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Two men were struck by the hags.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— The wine, too, Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They've poured it all out on the mountain rocks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Old Hulga did it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Several</span>— And the dwarf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Crowd</span>— The dwarf, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With a nod toward the church.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">One of the men who rode in town for help<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is with the clerk. <span class="directline">(<i>The Priest starts toward the church.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—(<i>Stepping forward.</i>) Can Jardin say a word?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One night at Acre when the camps were sick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smells of corpses tainted every breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jardin was pacing watch. Through the darkness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierced by the burial torches of the Turks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A smoke-thin shadow passed across the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the armies, blotting one by one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drifting death-fires of old Saladin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearer it came, and Jardin heard a moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And walking toward it found a Turkish lad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half eaten by hunger, in a fever trance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low-moaning piteously: "Dates, mother, dates."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Jardin say, Because the Turk's a boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll spare him? Did Jardin give him dates? No.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'd made a vow never to spare no foe<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of Mary's Son, so, like a starving hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Christian blade, drinking his little blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Licked up the crumbs that Famine's jaws had left.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Jardin right?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Our Paternoster says:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy kingdom come." How could the kingdom come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If heathens were allowed to—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— If the young Turk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instead of wobbling in a fever trance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As weak as smoke a breath could blow away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jardin had found astride a Christian corpse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holding his red dirk up against the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Allah's eyes and laughing at the blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had Jardin spared him then—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Then the red dirk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had hovered over your gray hairs like a hawk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until your day of death, and when your soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh from the holy lustral dews, had sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing toward Mary's bosom in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That red-plumed vulture swooping through the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had chased it down to Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Line up, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know not what you do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What does this mean?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—It means that Jardin is a soldier still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still fighting as a servant of the Cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never, while this arm can lift a sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will this sword ever spare a scoffing imp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To invocate the devils of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pointing to the gouts of holy blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the mountain rocks, say: "Aha, see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Master's slave bleeds as the Master bled."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pointing with his sword down the street.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The son of Satan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— It's the dwarf, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Solemnly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">God lifts the curtain and the Play is on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose last act shall unfold above the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Tempest and with Earthquake that shall shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hell to the very bottom. Seize him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Excitedly.</i>) No!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, no! The boy has done no— <span class="directline">(<i>Coughing.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Come on, men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bloody daggers drip on our gray hairs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chase us through the deep? Shall they? Come on!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The line swings off.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never will Jardin patch a truce with Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until her towers, stormed by angels' wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bow like Acre to the Son of God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Stop them, Father! Until I tell you!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Overcome with rage.</i>) This,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the worst I ever did hear. (<i>Looking about him while</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Oswald coughs with great distress.</i>) Men,—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Seeing that all the men have gone, he shouts after them.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pile your wood here, men! We shall have sacrifice!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes toward the church.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Frantically.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father! Father! <span class="directline">(<i>He falls upon his knees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—A burnt offering. (<i>Oswald rises</i> +<i>quickly, his face full of horror, and flees in the direction</i> +<i>of the Abbey, coughing violently.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From the steps, calling after him bitterly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If Benedict, whose "joy is in the chase,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall "chase the deer with hounds as hunters do,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps this devil that goes up in smoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will drop somewhere upon the mountain paths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pluck your haunches from the talbot's teeth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray God he may, when Benedict turns hound.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He enters the church and closes the door.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE FIVE—The same street, projected to the outskirts</i> +<i>of the village. On the right, is a wagon bridge built</i> +<i>of logs. Some slabs, left over from the building of the</i> +<i>bridge years ago, lie in a pile at the roadside. Farther</i> +<i>back, across the river the course of which is marked by</i> +<i>a line of sycamores, the mountain rises abrupt and green,</i> +<i>with here and there patches of bare rocks and trees thickening</i> +<i>as it extends back and up. Away to the center and</i> +<i>left, a stretch of bottom land with cultivated fields.</i> +<i>One gets a nearer view of the snow-capped peaks seen</i> +<i>from the mountain side in the first Scene and from the</i> +<i>courtyard of the abbey in the second. In the foreground</i> +<i>at the roadside, is a large olive tree with its dark shadow</i> +<i>lying directly beneath it, for over the landscape is a clear</i> +<i>light as of a noonday sun shining from a cloudless sky.</i></p> + +<p><i>Under the tree, with several willow baskets strung together</i> +<i>lying upon the ground beside him, sits the dwarf, Sigurd,</i> +<i>polishing Oswald's silver crucifix upon his knee. He</i> +<i>holds it out in a bit of sunshine that falls through the</i> +<i>leaves and, after flashing the light about, resumes rubbing</i> +<i>it upon his trousers.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Left, shouting as to men far off.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Close in, men! Close in!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The dwarf rises to his knees and looks in the direction of</i> +<i>the town. Then, hiding the crucifix in his bosom, he</i> +<i>comes out in the road and looks in the opposite direction</i> +<i>as though trying to discover who it is they are after.</i> +<i>Stones strike in the road and go clattering across the</i> +<i>bridge. A moment later Jardin and his men come</i> +<i>rushing in.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of the Men</span>—(<i>With his hands to his mouth, shouting</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>across the river.</i>) We've got him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— Fellows!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He makes for the pile of slabs. Several of the men follow him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—We can get shavings up at Bacqueur's shop.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They load themselves with slabs. Jardin, who with the</i> +<i>dwarf is in the center of the crowd, suddenly holds aloft</i> +<i>the silver crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—You know who threw him down now, don't you, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Cry of Rage</span>—Devil!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—Don't knock him, men. This is God's work.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Down with him! Burn him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— Fetch your slabs, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>— Come on! <span class="directline">(<i>They start toward the village.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shouts</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From over the river.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Look out! Look out!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The men carrying slabs glance back, then throw their loads</i> +<i>down and go fleeing toward the village.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>— Men! Men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The crowd flees, leaving Jardin holding the dwarf by the</i> +<i>collar standing in the road.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>—(<i>From across the bridge.</i>) Let go that boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—This is a day of miracles. <span class="directline">(<i>Canzler enters.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i64">Heathen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between us is a grave. <span class="directline">(<i>He lays his hand upon his sword.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Let go that boy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Advancing to meet him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">With Christ in one hand, and in the other this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler draws his sword, and a duel ensues. The Bailiff,</i> +<i>protected by his armor which Canzler has twice struck</i> +<i>and failed to pierce, lays his blows on as though he</i> +<i>would end it all at once. Canzler deliberately draws</i> +<i>back into the shade of the tree. Lunging madly, Jardin</i> +<i>follows him. The villagers reappear with stones in</i> +<i>their hands, and try to get where they will not hit Jardin</i> +<i>when they throw.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Run him through, Bailiff! Run him through!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jardin</span>—(<i>With a lunge.</i>) There!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Cry</span>— Ha!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler has parried the thrust, and his sword has passed</i> +<i>through the chain hauberk deep into the Bailiff's breast.</i> +<i>The latter staggers back, his astonishment that steel</i> +<i>armor should be pierced by mortal sword giving way</i> +<i>to a look of chagrin, and after endeavoring to steady</i> +<i>himself with the blade of his sword, falls flat, his armor</i> +<i>clanking on the road. The villagers drop their stones</i> +<i>and flee terror-stricken. Canzler stands for a moment,</i> +<i>wipes the perspiration from his brow, then reaches down</i> +<i>and takes up the Bailiff's sword by the point.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Swinging it around his head and hurling it toward the village.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">You men in steel!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes back under the tree and gets the baskets and comes</i> +<i>out into the road. The dwarf stoops to pick up the</i> +<i>crucifix that lies in the dirt about a yard from the</i> +<i>Bailiff's hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Canzler— Nay, let it lie, my boy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He takes the boy by the hand and they return across the</i> +<i>bridge. The Bailiff stirs, lifts himself to his elbow,</i> +<i>and stretches his hand toward the crucifix. He cannot</i> +<i>reach it and falls back and lies still.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_FOUR" id="ACT_FOUR">ACT FOUR.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—In the cavern, as in Scene two of the second</i> +<i>act. The spinning wheel stands against the wall and</i> +<i>above it from a peg hangs a heavy skein of black wool.</i> +<i>The baskets lie upon the floor. To the right of the low</i> +<i>fire, a heap of chips, pine cones, and broken limbs. The</i> +<i>cave is quite dark.</i></p> + +<p><i>From the left the gnomes enter stealthily, one after another.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—The same night.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—(<i>Huskily.</i>) Gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—(<i>Calling back.</i>) Gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>—(<i>To the left.</i>) She's gone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Gimel enters and, after him, Suk. Kilo crosses the cave</i> +<i>and stands listening.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—(<i>Stopping.</i>) What is it?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Gimel puts out his hand, palm back, warningly. Suk stops.</i> +<i>Suddenly, to the left, a sound of whistling is heard.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Huskily, to silence him.</i>) Zory! (<i>The whistling stops.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning back.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It's a frog booming on the river bank.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—The villagers should hear it they would squeal:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ave! Ave!" and hurry to the church<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take their pennies to the Priest. Curse them!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>While the rest snoop about the cave in search of food, Kilo</i> +<i>puts some kindling upon the fire, and getting down upon</i> +<i>his knees, blows it into a flame. He then stretches</i> +<i>himself out upon the floor, and proping his head upon</i> +<i>his elbow, begins to poke in the ashes with a stick.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Gimel, you're mad because your monk's alive.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Zip goes out right on tiptoe.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—I wonder if Granny knows we killed the bat?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—I haven't had a bite since.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— Yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found a cricket down among the stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still numb with winter's cold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—(<i>Fearfully.</i>) What is it, Zip?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Nonchalantly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Gimel, if the monk was sleeping there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Granny's couch and you had Loki's sledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think you could kill him?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— Sh!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Kilo sits up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>— Zip, what is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Re-entering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It's going to storm. The clouds are scudding fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thick and dark, brushing the mountain tops.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—She gets the owl, she'll be here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Kilo lies down. The other gnomes, as if fearing the entrance</i> +<i>of the witch, walk, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— Better get up.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—She'll flog you, Kilo, if she finds you there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—I'll play I'm Sigurd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— Then she'll drub you sure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see these baskets here? To-night at dusk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boy crept tiptoe to the entrance there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And threw them in. I holloed at him: "Hey!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd better run! Granny's been looking for you."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Kilo rakes a coal from the fire and blows the ashes from</i> +<i>it.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—You say the wind's up, Zip?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— It's going to storm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Looking among the dry herbs.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a leaf of Odin's helmet here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>—Gimel! <span class="directline">(<i>He blows the coal.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Suk.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">She's taken it with her. She knew<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +<span class="i0">If we should get out in the air—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— Come here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—She'd never see us in this cave again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the left, in a monotone.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">A rat and a cat and a cat and a mouse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—I wonder when she's going to make us broth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—She said we'd be as thin as chestnut leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before she put the cauldron on again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—How can we toil when fire won't burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Loki's hammers are soft as lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her charms all fail wherever we turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When blight won't gather and murrain won't spread?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can we toil when there's not a Nix<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But turns to stone at a crucifix?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From the left, Zory enters.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—What are you chewing, Zory?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— Slippery elm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—She's scared herself at the pesky thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often as here by the coals she's sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crunching her pignuts and stroking her cat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a time I've heard her say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Thor's arm shriveled that April day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When out of a cloud in a thunder shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He threw his bolt at the tall gray tower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shivered a poplar tree near by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The church stood sound with its cursed crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the god went bellowing down the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clutching his shoulder in terrible pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now he rides to the east and he rides to the west—So<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Granny says—and he's never seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lashing his goats through the driving rain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark and fireless the clouds drift round;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their waters fall without any sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's Hoder that drives them now, I ween.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Leaving the herbs.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">She'd left a slip of the Devil's herb,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Skipping to the right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You'd see me sweeping along the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd straddle the moon and ride her down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—Be quiet, Zory.—You'd better not. You hear?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Zory goes out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—The fairies too are bolder now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every hour you can hear them call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From forest and bracken and water-fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even at midday, when I've been clearing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ore from the mountains and stood a peering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through cracks in the cliff, I have seen them at play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Catching the drops of silvery spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Running with emeralds and amethysts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the stones where the purple iris rests.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hands to their mouths, from the mossy ledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They boom to the bittern far down in the sedge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the river bank. They are in the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woodland and water—everywhere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gimel</span>—And there's not a place even down in the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter how dark, but that elves are found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering and prying, their little eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darting and glancing like fireflies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>—They say that's the cause of Loki's fright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>—And well it might be, if this tale is true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeping he lay on the ground one night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had guzzled his fill of Granny's brew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, thinking he heard his bellows blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He opened his eyes and spied the glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flames on his forge, the sparks a leaping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a score of elves—-they thought him sleeping—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On trough and anvil and on the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clapping their hands as they fell around.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he stirred, when lo! there was not a spark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bellows was still, the stithy was dark.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kilo</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Rising quickly to a sitting posture.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The tale is as true as the master's steel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here on the stones I lay that night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curled like a cat in the fire-light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While there by the wall with a whirring sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Granny's old spinning wheel went round.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It whirred and it whirred so I could not sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I lay and yawned and began to peep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nudge the fire, for the night was cool.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the big wheel the wether's wool<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran black, the dame's foot under her skirt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paddling the pedal for Sigurd's shirt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wheel stopped a moment, and during the hush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had dropped to a doze, when there came a rush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the coldest air that ever warped skin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Loki, frightened, dashed up and in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the rift in the rocks. <span class="directline">(<i>He rises to one knee.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">His face was white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the smut upon it showed black as night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his limbs were so weak that he almost fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he got his breath he began to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, roused from his sleep by a noise in his shop—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Granny spied me and nudged him to stop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the two went out. I leaped to the ledge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And peered through the crack. Far up on the edge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the cliff where the hazel bushes grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pines were glossing; the gnomes, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were choking the caves to get in the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hide in the dark lest they should be found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Balder should roll his bright wheel on high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already his lances waved in the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bedabbled with blood. The heavens were pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the peaks were bright with his burning mail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lost not a trice. As quick as a wink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rushed to the roots and out through the chink<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With the Devil's herb I followed the pair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darting invisible through the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I squatted toad-like on the turf and heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Them babble their plans, heard every word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard Granny wheeze and the master say—As<br /></span> +<span class="i0">they rose from the rock and turned away—"We<br /></span> +<span class="i0">must nag on the gnomes or the cross will rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They must take the monk's life or put out his—"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>—(<i>Rushing in.</i>) Look out!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He dashes out, left, followed by the other gnomes. From</i> +<i>the right, the witch enters. In her right hand she holds</i> +<i>a big black owl by the wing; in her left, a large club.</i> +<i>She is tall, raw-boned, and weasened. Her hair is of a</i> +<i>stringy gray, and a skein of it hangs upon her cheek.</i> +<i>Her breath comes short, and there is a wheeze in her</i> +<i>voice.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Witch</span>—What's this? Burning my wood? <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i15">Sigurd! Ay, ay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd better hide, you lazy, crooked dwarf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll pay for this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She throws the owl down, and taking the sticks from the</i> +<i>fire, beats the flames out upon the floor.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">You'll pay for this, I say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll gladly sleep upon the coldest stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you'll not close an eye. You'll moan all night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dragging your red-puffed soles across the floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beg the gnomes for snow. I'll teach you how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To burn my kindling up. Here I must trudge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the blasted cliffs day after day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strip bark, drag brush, break limbs, and gather cones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the pines, the bait of all the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And barely get enough to heat my brew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here you'll lie roasting your wretched bones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll warm your cursed shanks. I'll put your feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blister on the red-hot coals again<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And flog you limping up the rocks for wood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hanging up the baskets.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the monks take the geese. They're out there now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flapping their wings and gaggling at the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To call the Christians down. You'll keep their necks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll swear by father Thor you fetched them up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And penned them in the lot. I'll beat you, though;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll whale you with these rods until you're sore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She piles her wood against the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the monks steal the geese. You'll gather wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'll find it scarce, I vow. There's not a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You're by the stream. You're up among the crags,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beating the eagles from the new-dropped kids.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You feed the woodman's ewes. You hunt the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sorrel-grass to see the lambkins eat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never drain an udder for my sop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bring me honey from the gum. Sneezeweed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never dig or nightshade from the marsh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You play among the logs. My nuts and corn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You steal to feed the striped chipmunks with.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day you're in the wood or on the slope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listening to hear the noisy Christian bells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You love the damned sound. You love the monks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You fetch them pine knots from the big green ridge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To singe the gnomes and light their altar fires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You've learned to fumble buckeyes on your breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll teach you how to pray. Ay, ay! You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll weave my dwarf a cowl. Ha, ha! You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigurd! I'll get you in the morning.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A rumble of thunder.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Eh?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thunder again.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, ay, Thor! I'll have them there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gnomes! Gnomes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zip! Gimel! Kilo! Lazy broth-suckers!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's work for you, you knaves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work and broth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(<i>Louder.</i>) Broth, I said! You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zory, you scamp!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Feeling about her dress.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i19">Hear what I say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kilo! Suk! Gimel! Here's broth for you!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In an underbreath.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If you'll work.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You don't, I'll lamn you, you toads.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, peak about! peak about!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thor wants you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The gnomes enter timidly, half-afraid.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Suk</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Whimpering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'm hungry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Witch</span>—Hungry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out in the air with you, then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suck the lightning's dugs! Guzzle in the rain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Low muttering thunder.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hear that? Can you? Can you bark?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, ay, Thor!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As the thunder dies away, the gnomes rush wildly toward</i> +<i>the witch.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, here's your herb!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out with you now, every last one of you!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zip</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Giving him a leaf.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Up with you! <span class="directline">(<i>Zip disappears.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i13">Kilo! There you go!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Kilo disappears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Suk! Now Gimel! Now you can get him!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The gnomes, taking the slips, disappear.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, ay! Chase the monk! Crack the big bells!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck up the pines and knock the steeples down!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Rushing in.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Me too, Granny!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Witch</span>—Ay, you scamp! <span class="directline">(<i>Giving him a leaf.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Bark now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skedaddle in the air!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Zory</span>—I'll straddle the moon and—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He disappears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Witch</span>— There you go!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, straddle her! Ride her through the clouds!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There they are, Thor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now for my dwarf. <span class="directline">(<i>Picking up her club.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'll bruise him a little. <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Sigurd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll get you. <span class="directline">(<i>She goes out, left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—The scriptorium in the dormitory of the abbey.</i> +<i>The walls are of stone. In the left wall, near the</i> +<i>corner, a door opens into a hall that leads thence to the</i> +<i>courtyard. Near it, forward, an enormous chest with</i> +<i>metal trimmings and handles of embossed stags' heads,</i> +<i>the antlers gradually disappearing into the panel. Upon</i> +<i>the chest, as though thrown there carelessly, lies a heavy</i> +<i>cloak. About ten feet from the door, against the rear</i> +<i>wall, stands a small priedieu covered with a rich altar-cloth</i> +<i>interwoven with the figure—seen in old arras—of St. Giles</i> +<i>sitting upon a rock with the deer resting its head in his</i> +<i>lap. Behind the deer is a clump of brambles. The</i> +<i>kneeling piece, which projects from under the folds of</i> +<i>the altar-cloth, is of dark wood highly polished. Upon</i> +<i>it is a scarlet cushion. A little above the priedieu, in a</i> +<i>semicircular niche in the wall, is set a bronze crucifix some</i> +<i>ten inches in height. Before it burns a small taper. Farther</i> +<i>to the right, a second door leading into a corridor</i> +<i>which connects with the sleeping apartments. Between</i> +<i>this door and the priedieu are shelves filled with books and</i> +<i>old manuscripts. Beyond the door, which swings in and</i> +<i>is partly open, an old buckler hangs upon the wall, and beneath</i> +<i>it, upon two iron spikes, a long spear. Between the</i> +<i>spear and buckler is fixed a parchment cut mitriform and</i> +<i>bearing in large illumined letters the inscriptions</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh de</span> +<span class="smcap">Buillon cum deo et cum godefrido nicaeis antiochiis</span> +<span class="smcap">hierosolymis mil nonag sept oct nov.</span> <i>Farther to the</i> +<i>right, in the corner, a Saracen coat-of-mail filled with</i> +<i>spears which, converging center and spread out above and</i> +<i>below, look like a sheaf of steel. Across the breast of the</i> +<i>coat-of-mail is a strip of parchment with the inscription</i> +<i>illumined as before</i>: A <span class="smcap">MOHAMED FILIO SATAN CHRISTO</span> +<span class="smcap">FILIO DEI</span>. <i>In the right wall are apertures of two deep-set</i> +<i>windows, near which are three carrels, each with an old</i> +<i>manuscript spread out upon it and ink-pots and other copying</i> +<i>and illuminating materials. Hanging beside them are</i> +<i>finger rags smeared with various colored stains. On one</i> +<i>of the carrels lies a sprig of flowering mountain laurel.</i> +<i>Near the center of the room, a few feet to the right, stands</i> +<i>a long table running parallel with the side walls. It is</i> +<i>overstrewn with old manuscripts, some of them discolored</i> +<i>and half unrolled; others, near the forward end, piled in</i> +<i>the form of a miniature pyramid. Farther back, a small</i> +<i>brass lamp, pitcher-shaped and with a wick protruding</i> +<i>from its spout, burns with a yellow flame. The room is</i> +<i>but dimly lighted, as a large room would be, with a single</i> +<i>lamp burning upon the table and a little taper winking</i> +<i>in the niche in the wall.</i></p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> + +<p><i>To the right of the table, in a square, high-backed chair with</i> +<i>animal-feet, sits the Abbot in a black gown, bareheaded.</i> +<i>His feet, which are under the table, are cased in slippers</i> +<i>of sheep-skin with the white fleece still upon it. From his</i> +<i>right hand, which hangs beside his chair, a scroll of parchment</i> +<i>trails upon the floor. Farther back, upon the opposite</i> +<i>side of the table, stands the Priest, his left hand resting</i> +<i>upon the back of a chair the front legs of which are</i> +<i>raised a few inches from the floor. At the further end</i> +<i>of the table Oswald is standing with his finger wiping</i> +<i>away the tears that trinkle down his cheeks.</i></p> + +<p><i>Thunder is heard intermittently, and from time to time the</i> +<i>windows are shaken by the violence of the wind.</i></p></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>White with wrath, turning to the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Endorse this, Father?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Father, I did not say it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—<i>Ira</i>, Benedict, <i>altis urbibus</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Causa cur perirent</i>. Let him explain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I say, do you endorse this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I did not say it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I endorse nothing till I hear both sides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I gave you both sides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Sit down, Benedict.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You think I'd sit down with these things<br /></span> +<span class="i4">spread here, <span class="directline">(<i>With a wave toward the manuscripts.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And Christ thrust yonder in the little niche?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not while I have in mind the first Psalm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You seem to have forgotten what αγαπαω means,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As found in that third chapter of St. John.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He lays his parchment upon the table and reaches over and</i> +<i>takes a book from the pile at his right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Not while I have in mind the first Psalm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning over the leaves of the book.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i11">If<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You thought more of the Gospels—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—-(<i>Sarcastically.</i>) As heathens do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What is it to be a heathen? Is it not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To act unchristlike?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What is it to be a dog?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I did not say that Father was a—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just now you did confess—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I said you spoke—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Spoke</i> as hunters—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<i>That's a lie!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be circumspect, lest in your anger you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bay at him and turn that which you do scorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I scorn the imputation which his pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Popped at me. As though all the saints in heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed down to him because the other night—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Turning away.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, but God hates the proud man!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And, therefore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wisdom doth bid you keep an open ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the scroll of judgment still unsealed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For how shall Mercy find the iron leaf?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will Heaven's book be open if we close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours? When men cry to us, if we shut our ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shut out Heaven's whispers. Oh, nothing—Of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">all the deeds men do that vex the sky—Nothing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">so rankles in the heart of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to see lips, fresh come from prayer for grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refusing justice.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Priest has walked forward at an angle from the table</i> +<i>and stands with his back to the Abbot. Reaching under</i> +<i>his gown, he draws a dark string across his breast and</i> +<i>begins, seemingly, to untie a knot. The Abbot regards</i> +<i>him in silence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">Will you hear him?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Gruffly.</i>) Go on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—No, Benedict; do it dispassionately.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You say God hates the proud. So he does. Yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrath is more perilous to a man than pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For while pride turns a man's face to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis wrath that shoves him where the thunders fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Under his breath.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drop some thunder on you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Now, my son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak as though angels heard you. 'Tis almost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midnight, and the Sabbath draweth nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the Priest.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Do you hear?—He shuts his ears. Proceed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering that truth is God's own bread.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hungers for it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Oh, I have not lied!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not say that Father was a dog.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I know you have not, Oswald. The three years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you have been here never have been stained<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pride and falsehood. Those that now malign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God knows where they shall go when the end comes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I will explain just how it came about.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, if you think I have done Father wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me and let me do penance for it. I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not be here long.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— My son!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkness gathering round me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Don't say that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will be well again. You will be strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some day, my son, and many years shall pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the Lord calls you. Hath he not given proof?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shepherd to you, surely God hath been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three nights ago at this time, where were you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lying down in the gorge, and the night wind<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Passed and you knew it not. But God watched there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sent his servant—for all things serve Him—And<br /></span> +<span class="i0">here you are safe in the fold again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That deed unclasped a volume of bright days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God doth not put his hand forth and lift up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he hath lifted you, and then cast down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the knees be straightened. Your tears should fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For joy, my son, not sorrow. Think how near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your foot was to the gates of darkness when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God turned your face around and there flashed out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A jeweled finger pointing toward a dawn—Far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">off it may be or it may be near—When<br /></span> +<span class="i0">the last shred of darkness shall vanish.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let those that hound you, fear, for God shall cleave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chasm in the earth for them; but you—No,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">no, my son, not darkness, light. God's light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glory from the new Jerusalem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will shine upon you on the mountain tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If dreams are tapers lighting what is to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As some believe they are.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Priest reaches under his gown and takes something in</i> +<i>his right hand, and with the other draws the string from</i> +<i>around his neck and drops it into his right hand, after</i> +<i>which he pulls the sleeve down over it till only the</i> +<i>knuckles are visible.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i26">Therefore, my son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lift up your face and let white words go forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And usher in the Sabbath. Truth in the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fire under water, but on the lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It lighteth every man the Way of Life.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Priest goes toward the chest near the door.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Benedict, will you do as Pilate did?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Is he the Lord?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— He is—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Then who are you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—He is a child of our Lord's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— So am I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—So you are, Benedict, a full grown child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Even if I don't pray here<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a disdainful motion toward the priedieu.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— A full grown child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Large enough, one would think, to have slain the wolf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hate in you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The Priest takes up the cloak from the chest and begins to</i> +<i>put it on.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">Is it the truth you fear? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You dare to go out under the open sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hatred in your heart, a night like this? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If you go now I know the reason why.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You fear to lay your heart down here and let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light shine on it with Oswald's, side by side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the Abbot.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Over his shoulder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i14">Call a dog Father?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exasperating beyond word in this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conduct of yours. You come up here as one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose honor has been wounded, and you throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your charge down and when Oswald takes it up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To answer it, you will not hear him, but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You slink away. A travesty on man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is he who has but one ear, and that filled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his own voice. <span class="directline">(<i>Rising.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i22">But I will settle this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My son, I now absolve you from all—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning quickly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i42">Hold!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He pulls his cloak around so as to hide his right hand, then</i> +<i>comes forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your haste to wash his heart is evidence—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You tacitly admit your charge is false<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the eagerness—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—What are you talking of?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Your eagerness to get out in the dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Who said that I was going?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To Oswald.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i41">Now then, you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay your heart down under the lamplight here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will show a hunch-backed devil in it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Tell us, my son, just how it came about.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let truth spring out upon the table armed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He resumes his seat.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—When Father spoke this morning of a chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stag pursued by hounds and things like that,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I simply said that—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—"<i>Simply</i> said!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I said—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I was one of the hounds, the talbot hound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That led the pack.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Why, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Advancing toward him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i38">You say that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A second time, and by the—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprinkled with eyes, a wheel of God's own car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attends our brother. You would best beware.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know God hath him circled round about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that that shall uproot the steadfast hills.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Through the door, rear. Louis enters, carrying a flagon and</i> +<i>a silver cup, his face showing terror. Seeing the</i> +<i>Priest, he stops suddenly as though amazed, then enters</i> +<i>slowly.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I care not were he nine times circled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Hell is, I would—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i25">Let me finish. Then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If with eyes open you will venture on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do it. The night is wild. Heaven hath shaken down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a pine upon the mountain tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And steeples too, no doubt, and towns, who knows?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man can tell what dawn shall look on. Even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This house of God—Hark how the thunders break!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds are playing havoc with the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Order frightened hath plunged into the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—The southern gable has been blown down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>After a look of surprise.</i>) And<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice in the mossed chapel tower the bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath rung, and no hand touched it; as it were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tocsin to alarm the world that Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath landed. Though the seas be blown away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the everlasting hills be tumbled down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In summer calmness still the soul of man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands like a fortress, sure against assault<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And terrible as a gorgon's head to Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And adamant to all her engines. But<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let wrath break out inside, and crash! the gates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Tapping himself upon his breast.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i9">And Hell comes in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And Hell goes in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ravins there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—In me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— The lightning hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No power to strike a tree while the blue sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bends over it. But let the wrath of Hell<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Build up a cloud and fire it, and the tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falls shattered. But God calls the cloud away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And His winds blow it into nothingness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The tree is—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Oswald there. He stands secure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And the cloud—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You. You blacken over him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, charged with passion, make an atmosphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sulphur and in it, as in native air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hell slips her flame and the trunk tumbles down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To darkness. But God calls the cloud away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To judgment, and its shadow is seen no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you will venture further in your wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do it, for I have done. (<i>A pause.</i>) Very well, then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may resume, my—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I will undergo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever ordeal Father may suggest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will walk hot irons or put my hand in fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or anything.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You hear that, Benedict?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—He knows the Pope has banned the ordeal.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To Oswald with scorn.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">Brave!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I call the saints—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To Louis.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">Do I look like a hound?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I said you <i>spoke</i> as those that hunt—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— By that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meaning that I should tarre them on him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>With a puzzled look.</i>) On<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—How did you come to say it, Oswald?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I grew up, Father, in a forest where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men used to hunt, and I have often sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In winter round their fires and heard them tell<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Tales of the chase. And so when Father spoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a chase my mind went back—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Did you say this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After he told you of the hunter's dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—Dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<i>I</i> told? I did not tell him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Instantly the Abbot frowns silence at the Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i55">Speak out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—<i>Non somnium venatoris.</i>—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— What dream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Priest</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Contemptuously.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">As if he did not know it!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Agitated.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i27"><i>Ne—ne dic!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Non scit somnium.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Priest</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Opening wide his eyes.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i19">That's the trick, then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm to believe that, am I?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Father, what—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I'll tell you what. The hunter—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Benedict!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—If he don't know the dream, I'll tell him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Macias saw a pack of—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Striking the table.</i>) Will you stop?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Eum ad insaniam adiges.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Let it drive him mad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As though provoked beyond expression, the Abbot passes</i> +<i>his hand across his brow and casts a scornful glance toward</i> +<i>the Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Oswald, you go back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into your cloister.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— Drive who mad, Father?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You. The hunter saw the furious<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hounds of Hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chasing you up a mountain, while a storm—<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Benedict, God's curse—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— On his enemies?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— On—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Stretching out his right arm.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">On those that aid them?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Yes, and on—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Him, then.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>From his right hand he drops the silver crucifix and, with</i> +<i>the forefinger of his left, points at Oswald. The latter</i> +<i>starts, shrinking in terror from the curse. The Abbot</i> +<i>and Louis, dumbfounded, stare wide-eyed at the crucifix</i> +<i>which dangles from its cord about the Priest's finger.</i> +<i>The latter, after regarding with an expression of</i> +<i>triumph the astonishment of the Abbot, lets the crucifix</i> +<i>fall to the table and, reaching across to the other side,</i> +<i>pulls the flagon over to himself and proceeds to pour</i> +<i>out a cup of wine.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You're a smart set. You've wormed your way around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To let him out of calling me a dog;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now let him out of that. You've made it seem—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He sips the wine.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Where did you find it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— To yourselves, no doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he was ignorant of the dream when he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insinuated that I led the pack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That chased him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After a sip of wine.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">Or would lead it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Where did you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Where do you suppose?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— In the brook?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—A cauldron of hell-broth would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nearer it. And you? <span class="directline">(<i>The Abbot shakes his head.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">On his best-beloved.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— On Pierre?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— On the dwarf. <span class="directline">(<i>He drinks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Wages for his services, I suppose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>While the Priest drains the cup, the Abbot nods to Louis,</i> +<i>who steps quickly toward Oswald as if to hurry him out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Hold up! You let him stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Excitedly.</i>) You had no right—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">It's my turn to explain. <span class="directline">(<i>He begins to fill the cup.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Oswald, retire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—I want to clear myself.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>Clear!</i> Let him stay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Cup in hand, to the Abbot.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">After your pretty speech this morning I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reaching the village, found your monk, here, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jardin at swords' points. Some one had espied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dwarf, it seems, in town. And the people,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering what he did the other night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouted, and the Bailiff's voice rang loud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For vengeance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— But 'twas the boy—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— You be still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Jardin proposed that they should burn him. He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opposed it, fought it, he did. Just then I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rode in. Jardin appealed to me, and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Urged them to seize the devil. Then it was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This upstart here let loose his venomous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vile, hell-suggested intimation that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had turned hound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— I did not—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Not a word.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The upshot of it all was—Ah, but God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will pour his wrath out on your head for this!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In view of what then happened, I now call<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">This night, this midnight hour, and wake up God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To witness that these mountains shall be cleared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heathen; that the dews of heaven shall fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baptizing bodies of the unbaptized<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stiff among the wild-flowers. For this young week,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in this storm hath stepped upon the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall see a storm more terrible than this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On mountain tops uprooting human trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And choking Death and Hell and Darkness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or let the infant Sabbath, born this hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put not a foot on earth, but like a bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wander upon the winds, and in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grope for the morning star and find it not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the gates of the morning be shut and let no bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake up the world, unless it wake to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death ravining on the mountains and white Faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Painting her banners there in heathen blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Mercy shall be shut up in the caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this accursed deed shall be tracked down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Vengeance ranging like a wild beast—Thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above these maddening winds that wreck this world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear me, <i>hear me</i>, HEAR ME. Thou in heaven!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Out of breath.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And you—and you who caused all this, may God—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Benedict!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—But let God have his—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">(<i>He swallows the wine.</i>) His will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he will have it, mark you that, young man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To the Abbot.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strange are the ways God hath of rousing up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slothful to a work he long since laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the world and the world shirked it. But<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall be done now, <i>it shall be done now</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If for three years the heathen on the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have served their idols, in less than three days<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Their idols and themselves shall be in Hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lead the chase yonder, Father, lead it there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath <i>them</i> shake the mountains. Let this hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike for Thee there, and serve Thee, striking them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That this accursed deed may smell no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A putrid carcass rotting under heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is how God hath roused us up at last.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He drains the cup and sets it down.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My people armed with vengeance had swung down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reached the bridge, and Jardin, valiant man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soldier of God, Knight Templar of the Cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in the heathen land fought for ten years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stamp out Satan, even in his old age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A furnace burning with the breath of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And firing those about him to the work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ridding these mountains of the heathen, he—May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God reward him for it in the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without end, Amen—he had grabbed the dwarf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drag him off and burn him—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>— It was wrong—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—His blood is on your hands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—(<i>Frantically.</i>) You murdered him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You had no cause to kill him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>I!</i>. Hear that.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—The boy had done no harm. The night I fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas he who—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—(<i>Seizing him.</i>) Will you hush?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>White with fear.</i>) Oswald, retire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your fever—you're excited. (<i>Rising.</i>) Benedict,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't press this matter further—now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Bewildered.</i>) The <i>boy</i>!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Louis, take him—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— No cause to kill the <i>boy</i>!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—He—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Father has forbidden it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Um-hm!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think I see—I think—I think I see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—So he told you it was the dwarf, eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>All the while shoving Oswald toward the rear</i> +<i>door.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just his imagination Father. I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was the one who found him at the gate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knew no more about it than a stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas night; the stars were shooting in the—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— When?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—When he was brought up. Why he—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Quickly.</i>) Louis!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Searching the Priest's face.</i>) You asked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he told us—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—It was the dwarf was killed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—He told us that you had burned him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Fiercely to Oswald.</i>) God shall burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, griffon, son of Tophet, damned thing!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Terrified at the dark in the corridor and with a wild expression</i> +<i>upon his face, Oswald clutches hysterically at</i> +<i>the door jambs.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oswald</span>—No, no, no, no! (<i>Piteously, as he is shoved along</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>through the hall.</i>) Father, Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Call Hell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pray to God—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Breathe no curse, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will inquire into this affair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he hath done aught culpable—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>If! If!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—If he hath spoken unbecomingly—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Is Jardin's life then nothing? I suppose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not, to you. <span class="directline">(<i>He turns and goes toward the door, left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— What?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I suppose not, to you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You mean to say—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Go your way; I go mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—To say the dwarf killed—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You have espoused the cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">of the guilty.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Of the guilty? <i>I</i> espoused?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>Following with the light</i>.) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Don't tell me Oswald had a hand in this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benedict, this is pure malignity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And no mouth in it, either, I suppose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You mean he instigated this attack?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>At the door, buckling his cloak about</i> +<i>him</i>.) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go your way; I go mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I don't believe it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I don't believe it. It smacks too like the charge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he called you a dog. If you can prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That any word of his caused Jardin's death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will attend to him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—By cursing me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You know why I—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You needn't apologize.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—You, Benedict, not I, are needing grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have assailed a child of God, and you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know what our Lord said: "'Twere better a mill-stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were hanged about his neck and he were flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the sea, than offend one of these."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You even seemed to take delight, to relish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harrowing his soul up with the hunter's dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breaching it for horror to peep through.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—You wait.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>He reaches down behind</i> +<i>the chest</i>.) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— God will hold you responsible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If anything should happen to him.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take care he does not visit you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Just now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You said yourself that it was you who urged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jardin to seize the dwarf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— And so I did.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Whose fault is it if the dwarf killed him, then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—We will let God decide whose fault—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Move this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Setting the lamp down upon the floor.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">You even said Oswald opposed it, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that just now you blamed him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You think you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Understand everything. You <i>think</i> you do.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They pull the chest from the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Then tell me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Reaching down and getting his staff.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i21">The dwarf did not kill him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— How?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is he not dead?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—By this time, he may be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I still don't see where Oswald's fault comes in.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He takes up the lamp.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—We will let God decide whose fault it is.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—How did it happen?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—God was there; ask him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis reappears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Stay, Benedict, tell me explicitly—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the last time you will see me here.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—Eh? <span class="directline">(<i>Holding the light above his head.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i11">What do you propose to do?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— You wait.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—I fear for you, unless you quench your wrath.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A moment later, he turns back.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Again safe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Barely.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— What was that he said?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last time he would come here?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— I hope so. <span class="directline">(<i>Thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And don't let Oswald—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Close tight the shutters.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—And don't let Oswald go down there again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We would be risking all that we have gained.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brothers, begging in the town to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought in four hundred franks, a silver cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three rings, a pair of bracelets, and a pearl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Big as a pea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— A very good day's work.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—If this keeps up, the chest won't hold it all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Suddenly, glancing about upon the table.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Benedict—did he take—the crucifix?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>At the window.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Oswald took it.—Do you think Benedict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found it where he said he—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—(<i>Aghast.</i>) Oswald!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Why?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>—The hunter saw it blood-stained in his dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A gust of wind blows out the light in his hand.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—Perhaps it got blood on it when he fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benedict may have washed it off. I thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It might help quiet him. Shall I get it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— No;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may be right.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Still, if you think—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— You fetch—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll take the lamp and cup; you fetch the wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will have Pierre watch with him to-night.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis turns back to the window. The Abbot relights his</i> +<i>lamp at the little taper in the wall and then goes left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>—By the way, Father, old Andrew has gone mad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm has blown his mind's last spark out. Yes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tried to take the bracelets from Luigi<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would have dragged the chest out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— And did he?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— No;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it was all that four of us could do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hold him. He is on the seas again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And peers abroad and swears he sees great ships—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Out in the storm is heard the booming of a bell. They</i> +<i>listen. Louis crosses himself and mutters.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Sed libera nos a malo.</i> Father— <span class="directline">(<i>The Abbot lifts his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i32">What<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you think it means? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Come to my room.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">(<i>To himself, as he goes left.</i>) If<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The etherial gods, as the wise poet says,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell afar off and in the affairs of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Interfere not, our domes shall rise yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i22">(<i>Turning.</i>) Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring the scroll.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— Which?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abbot</span>— Lucretius. On the floor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In the doorway he stops and listens as for the bell. As he</i> +<i>goes out.</i>) If.</p></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Louis takes up the parchment which lies upon the</i> +<i>floor near the Abbot's chair and, going to the rear door,</i> +<i>shuts it and slides the bolt. He then blows out the</i> +<i>taper in the wall.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Listening.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i4">The witches have their way in heaven to-night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes to the table and, taking up the flagon, goes out,</i> +<i>left.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—The court yard of the abbey, as in Scene</i> +<i>Three of the Second Act. A storm is heard roaring</i> +<i>through the mountains, with an occasional rumble of</i> +<i>thunder and in the darkness sudden luster as of lightning</i> +<i>far off. In these flashes, the scene gleams wet as after a</i> +<i>hard rain.</i></p> + +<p><i>From the right, comes a faint sound as of a stick tapping on</i> +<i>stone, and soon along the side of the dormitory old Andrew</i> +<i>appears, carrying a staff with which he is feeling</i> +<i>his way through the darkness.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>—Here a black squall, sou'-wester, south-south-west.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Star—star gone! Where's the pole?<br /></span> +<span class="i18">(<i>Shouting.</i>) Furl the main, lads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On she spins, whirling past world on world. Hip!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel her—feel her heave! (<i>Shouting.</i>) Take in the mizzen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand thousand fathoms down, the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines like a fish. <span class="directline">(<i>He peers around the corner.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i20">Black as—Hear the masts crack.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch Alvinach! Watch for the ninth wave, lads!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Put out that broom! You'll have the witches here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mother, they've burnt the baby!—Hya! Lie down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks out in the court.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's a night, God bless us! Here's a gale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make the sea-girls sing. Scylla! Carribee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake your dead bones! Shake 'em and sing! Blow, then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Growl, Scylla! Growl, ocean-bitch, bark and growl!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, Carribee, whirl! Shake the big gulf and slush!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gulp down the worlds with stars and moons and moons!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yip, there they go! Suck 'em down! suck 'em down!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arcturus down! Down Cancer! down the Scales!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whirled into the pit! Weigh the devils, Scales!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weigh the big Serpent! Weigh Beelzebub!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hands ahelm! Ahull, boys! Lash her to the lea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lash her to the lea! Splinters! Watch out, lads!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Saint Telme! Saint Telme! Hold the gunnel there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The bell sounds in the chapel tower.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who's dead? Who's dead, i' the Devil's name?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetch me those rings. Now throw him overboard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scrub these stains, Luigi. Keep the dog back there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This gold will glitter on the Judgment Day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear you whispering, scoundrels!—Hya! Lie down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks back, singing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>There's wind up in her pitch-black flag;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>There's foam around her keel.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now we're scudding. Right through the Dipper—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>) Ahoy!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Elmo! Elmo! Light up! light up, man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Argo's to the larboard! Signal her! Ahoy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ship ahoy, Cap! Ship ahoy! Ship full of gold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's whirling south! Man the boats! Lay to! lay to!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a squall winks at the pirates, lads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mount her, hardies! Break her hatches! Gold under 'em.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Singing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8"><i>There's foam up in her pitch-black flag;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>There's wind around her keel....</i> <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Watch Alvinach, though! Keep the lantern dry!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He stops and listens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear you whispering, scoundrels!—-Hya! Lie down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who said so? Louis lied. Stand back, I say!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four on an old man! Dogs! Let go my hair!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A loud clap of thunder.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shrouds break now, God bless us! here's a wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will blow us far off to the Pleiades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swamp us. <span class="directline">(<i>Lightning.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i14">That was the Bear went by. And<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgo has sunk here jewels in the south.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sink 'em deep, girl! Pirates abroad.—What's this?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Calling down.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Got it, boys? Got the gold? See it, see it shine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw your cloak over it. Don't let God see this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ho, Prester John! sailing among the stars?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's your chest, John! Here's your sparklers! Where is he?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is he, boys? Throw the king overboard?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pitched him to Plato on his big fork, eh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Odi Persicos.</i> Like their gold, though. Up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up with it, lads. Heave, now. Chest broken open.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leak, gold, leak, leak! Here's your spring, Crashus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, Jew! here you can cool your tongue!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Traders, drink! Drink, worms! Pigs! Pastors! Devils!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drink, drink! Everything drink!<br /></span> +<span class="i12">(<i>Stooping down.</i>) Here's a dead man's ring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finger's in the coral. Bracelets and gems.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Topaz from Tartary. Emeralds from the East.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Garnets. Eh? Garter-buckles! <span class="directline">(<i>Reproachfully.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">Lads! lads!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A glare of lightning reveals him with his hand close to his</i> +<i>eyes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i43">"From Carlos."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chloe's gone bathing, Carlos. Turned cold nymph.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let go! Let go, I say! Androphanes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike him, Juba! Slash him with the broad-sword!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You hand that back here, then. Hell-dog.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a widow's mite; bought a monk's prayer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flip it into the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i22">Judas! here you are! <span class="directline">(<i>Thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Rumble on! Growl and growl! Who cares for Heaven now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rain or not rain. We can fight, too, old boy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wipe your lips, Scariot. Take the chamois bag.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's thirty-two. Off with you.—Wallets! Old coin!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich man, miser, knave! Sick, eh? Quick, your gold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take it to the priest, then you can jump<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right through the needle's eye.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He gets down upon his knees.</i>) Well, God bless us!</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sacked the sea-king's coffers. See the pearls!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crescents and ear-bobs. Here's a brooch fine as<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparkles on Memnon's sister. What's this clammy thing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold, bloody hand! Hand with a locket in it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Un</i>lock it. Ho! picture, eh? Say mamma, baby!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mamma's in the sea-weed. That's a foul deed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw your cloak over it. Don't let God see this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Calling up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who's there? (<i>Rising.</i>) Who calls Andrew? Stand down on the ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lid <i>is</i> off. (<i>Stooping.</i>) Parchment deeds, eh? I. X.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Andrew's Andrew, then I. X. is eleven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shines? Silver. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i21">Monk's cross. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">Wet. <span class="directline">(<i>Flash of lightning.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i35">Red! <span class="directline">(<i>With horror.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i40">Lads! lads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll sink for this, God bless us! Pretty muss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who daubed it? (<i>Thunder.</i>) Hear that. Horror in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doffs his big plume at this. And up there—Here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wash it! wash it in the sea! In with the chest, lads!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murder like a foam-bird dashed upon the prow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shakes her red wings. And there—Look! <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i39">Wash it clean!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's golden scales are rising from the deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Off! lay her—lay her off, lads! They'll weigh us!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A sharp flash of lightning. Andrew is seen with his left</i> +<i>hand up beside his head, which is drawn down, backing</i> +<i>fearfully through the door into the dormitory. The</i> +<i>thunder rumbling in the darkness sounds like the growl</i> +<i>of an enormous wild beast.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ACT_FIVE" id="ACT_FIVE">ACT FIVE.</a></h2> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE ONE—A street in the village. Low thatched cottages,</i> +<i>with deep, wide eaves overhanging the street, stand</i> +<i>in a dark mass. To the left, a little way from the others</i> +<i>and back a few paces from the street, is a small house, the</i> +<i>home of Jardin. Through a window in the room on the</i> +<i>right side comes a faint light as from a low-burning lamp.</i> +<i>To the left of the window, one feels that there is a door,</i> +<i>though, either on account of intervening bushes or perhaps</i> +<i>because of a porch that makes it darker there, one</i> +<i>does not see it. Out in the yard where the light from the</i> +<i>window falls upon the bushes near the casement, the</i> +<i>glistening of the leaves shows that it has been raining.</i> +<i>The windows of the other houses, like vacant eyes under</i> +<i>deep brows, are dark, and there are no signs of life anywhere.</i> +<i>Over the roofs and through the great trees that</i> +<i>rise up behind them flows a greyness that emphasizes the</i> +<i>quiet of the hour. About the street lie several limbs that</i> +<i>were broken off by the storm during the night.</i></p> + +<p><i>TIME—Sunday morning. Day is just beginning to break.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Cry</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Far to the left, full or terror and anguish.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Haro! Haro! <span class="directline">(<i>Drawing nearer.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i12">Wake, people! Help, oh, help!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After a pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Will no one hear? Will no one hear? <span class="directline">(<i>Near by.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">O men of God! Dear men of God! (<i>A pause.</i>) Oh, run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run to the mountains, men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre enters half on a run, breathless. There is a wild</i> +<i>light in his eyes and his thin frame is shaken with sobs.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i27">Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He glances toward the lighted window as though in doubt</i> +<i>whether or not to rouse the inmates of the house. Then,</i> +<i>as though to make up even for the moment he has lost,</i> +<i>he hurries along the goes out, right.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">People! Christian people!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The light in the window grows dimmer and suddenly disappears,</i> +<i>leaving the house in total darkness.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">Will no one hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will no one hear? Wake! Oh, wake! <span class="directline">(<i>In the distance.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i34">Haro!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To the left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Jules!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Voice</span>—(<i>Nearer.</i>) Ho?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Voice</span>— Who is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Voice</span>— Some brother.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">(<i>Jules Bacqueur enters.</i>) Pierre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Voice</span>— The abbey's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blown down, perhaps.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—(<i>Entering.</i>) Where are all the people?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—At special mass for Jardin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He glances back toward the house where, at that moment,</i> +<i>the door opens and the light appears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—(<i>Hurrying on after Pierre.</i>) Come on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— Wait.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's hear how the Bailiff is.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hugh Capet returns to the corner of the cottages that are</i> +<i>flush with the street and the men look back to where</i> +<i>two figures, one after the other, appear in the lighted</i> +<i>doorway of Jardin's house, a man who comes out and</i> +<i>an old woman with a white cap on who carries a small</i> +<i>lamp. A little later the door is closed.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Who is it, Jacques?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—He spent the night there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— What a night it was!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just see these limbs.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— And there's some fellow's hat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—The roof's off Pirot's barn, and Lisette—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— Here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes forward to the edge of the street.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Following him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">And Lisette found a big bird in her yard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a broken wing, blown in here miles and miles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the Holy Land or Joppa or some sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Pointing right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Look at those yew trees in the church yard there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless God, they've pulled up dead mens' skulls. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—And those men there—?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>— Are filling up the graves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where's the cross? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Not on the steeple? Say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That monk—There's something up. When dead men's bones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are thundered over in the night, and graves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ungorge like that with wind, strange birds, and things—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Who is that shouting?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— Don't know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>— How's Jardin?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques</span>—(<i>Entering.</i>) Eh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—He didn't hear you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques</span>— What's he shouting for?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>—The storm tore up the dead last night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>— The abbey's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blown down, perhaps, or— Come on. Hurry, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bacqueur</span>—How is the Bailiff? <span class="directline">(<i>Distant thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—- <span class="directline">(<i>Hurrying out right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">Going to have another'n.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques</span>—The soldier had a bad night. In his fever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He picks the sheets, mumbling: "Saints, send him down,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And: "Listen, men!" and things like that. And once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jumps him clean out of bed and cries out: "There!"<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As he had run the woodman through and through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wipes his sword like on his pants, and then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though he felt his wound, falls back and pop!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind or something blows the light out and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear the banshee singing in the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild—wild. I fear the bell with toll 'fore night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go out.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE TWO—The open space in front of the church. In</i> +<i>the corner of the fence, left, the top of the poplar tree,</i> +<i>broken off by the wind during the night, hangs out in the</i> +<i>street almost brushing the ground. To the right of the</i> +<i>steps is a large wooden cross which was blown from the</i> +<i>steeple. It lies sidewise, hazing been split off at the bottom.</i> +<i>The gate into the church yard is slightly ajar, as</i> +<i>though some one had lately passed through, and against</i> +<i>the dark grass the taller of the white grave markers lean</i> +<i>as though the wind had been among them. Over the low</i> +<i>fences where one looks back into the church yard on the</i> +<i>one side and into an open space on the other, is seen yellow</i> +<i>light from the side windows of the church, pouring</i> +<i>out into the gloom. From within, comes the sound of the</i> +<i>service.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—His spear was lifted over Acre, Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his right arm hath made the heathen quail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And he hath spread thy glory through the East.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—And he hath spread thy glory through the East.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Let not the flags be draped that fluttered high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the strongholds of the Infidel.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—Let not the flags be draped that fluttered high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the strongholds of the Infidel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Let not the scorners from the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down and see the dark procession go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lift him up and lift up trembling, Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—Let not the scorners from the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down and see the dark procession go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lift him up and lift up trembling, Lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Keep death off, Lord, until the gates of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receive the accursed hand that laid him low.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—Keep death off, Lord, until the gates of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receive the accursed hand that laid him low.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Let not thine enemies triumph over thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thunder it, brethren, so that God may hear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—Let not thine enemies triumph over thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The mountains are afraid of thee, O Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake their wild tops and shake the heathen down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—The mountains are afraid of thee, O Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake their wild tops and shake the heathen down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—So shall thy Church with loud hosannas ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>—So shall thy Church with loud hosannas ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—World without end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Congregation</span>— World without end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Amen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—(<i>Far to the left.</i>) Haro! haro!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Accept, O eternal Father, the offering +that is here made to Thee by Thy minister, in the name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +of us all here present. It is as yet only bread and wine, +but by a miracle of Thy power and grace will shortly +become the body and blood—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—(<i>Drawing nearer.</i>) Help, help! Oh, help!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>After a pause, as though he had heard the cry.</i>)</p> + +<p>—the body and blood of Thy beloved Son. He is our high +priest and He is our victim. By Him and—</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—O men of God! Dear men of God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>There is a hush in the church.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Will</i> you not help? <i>Will</i> you not—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He enters with his hands to his head, fearful lest he has</i> +<i>disturbed the service.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Resuming.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">He is our high priest and He is our victim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre throws himself down upon the steps, sobbing.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i45">By Him and through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him, we desire to approach—Sit down, men! <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Women! Men! Sit down!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The noise in the church increases.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>— Sit down, brethren!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't desecrate the Lord's house!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Shouting.</i>) You hear me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Woman's Voice</span>—Husband!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—(<i>Enraged.</i>) Malediction!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The church door is jerked open, and the people come pouring</i> +<i>out with anxious faces lest something terrible has</i> +<i>happened. Back in the church, above the heads of the</i> +<i>people, is seen the altar ablaze with lights, and high</i> +<i>behind it a colossal cross with a beautiful carven Christ</i> +<i>upon it. The wound in the side shows red and over the</i> +<i>thorn-crowned brow is an arch bearing in golden letters</i> +<i>the inscription: FORGIVE THEM FOR THEY</i> +<i>KNOW NOT WHAT THEY—The DO has never</i> +<i>been put on.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Staggering up from the steps.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Run, run to the mountains, men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick! quick!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They're dragging him off! They're dragging him off!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O run, run, run, run, run!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—What—where—who is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Yonder! yonder!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, get torches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Get torches and run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kindle fires on the mountain tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So he may see his way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, that won't help! Oh, that won't help!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he can hear, though!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call, call to him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Search all the places where the blind may be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run shouting "Oswald! Oswald!" through the woods!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find him, oh, find him before Satan comes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the storm breaks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll track him by the blood drops!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll tear his body on the mountains!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O men, dear men— <span class="directline">(<i>A clap of thunder. Pierre dodges.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">What—what was that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, God said something! God said something!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pointing up at the sky.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He knows! He knows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord Jesus knows that it was not his fault!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And He will pay—oh, He will bless you, men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do, do, do run!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Make way!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—O Father! Father!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In his snow-white chasuble, the priest appears pushing his</i> +<i>way through the throng about the door. In his hand</i> +<i>he has a silver communion plate with the bread upon it.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Why all this clamor?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the Sabbath and the hour of mass.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—It's done! It's done!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Descending the steps.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">How dare you cry out on this holy morn?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Oh, last night, Father, last night in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White angels, oh, white angels in the storm—It<br /></span> +<span class="i0">tore their wings and blew them from the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then—and then—O father, then the fiends—He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">saw them in the stones and—screamed and—Oh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They did a deed of horror in the dark!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>He presses his</i> +<i>hands into his eyes as if to shut out the sight of it.</i>) +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—What is this?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Bending up and down.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Pierre! <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">Pierre, if Hell hath done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some wild deed in the night, be sure that God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will right it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Will He, oh, will He, Father, make him to see—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the blue sky again?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Who is it Hell hath blinded in the night?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>With his hands to his eyes, sobbing.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Brother—brother—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Pierre!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—O, Oswald! Oswald!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a cry, Madam Bacqueur falls fainting upon the steps.</i> +<i>The women about her take her child from her arms and</i> +<i>support her back into the church. The crowd stands</i> +<i>silent.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Bending up and down.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Say something! say something!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Almost overcome.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Can this be true? Can this be true, Pierre?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Swift fly the avenging angels from the Throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guilt like a red cloud passes from the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And day looks in and sees where eyes have been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>As though his heart would break.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Brother! brother! brother!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<i>Praise be to God!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tempest shaketh showers upon the grass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm wind cooleth the low violet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the proud pine I shatter, saith the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall go down and toss his boughs in hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coffin-worm shall slime him. He shall not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mock me upon the mountains, saith the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Praise be to God!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre glances up at the priest and then, as from something</i> +<i>infernal, falls flat and hides his face against the</i> +<i>ground.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lights are out in Babylon the Proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Lord God in blackness sitteth there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the ruins, dealing judgment.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The rising wind blows shut the door of the church and</i> +<i>leaves the scene enveloped in the half-light of early</i> +<i>morning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My scales are hung in heaven, saith the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I weigh them in the darkness of the night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They balance with the Dragon on one side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Glory be to God in the highest!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting off demoniacally in the direction of the abbey.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lift up thy head, O Lucifer, in hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see what God hath written on the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In letters that burn through thy broken panes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With his finger as though tracing the letters.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Weighed and found wanting!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am the Lord God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Me the moon goes down; in Me the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rises; I am the night and day.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +<span class="i0">If over any man a light break forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make his brow bright, let him not think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shines for him alone, and be puffed up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because of it, and speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bitterly, saying: 'See what pure prayers can do.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when his lungs are empty, saith the Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I will give him flesh unto the dogs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will put out the light that kindles pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saith the Lord God, and with the light the eyes." <span class="directline">(<i>In a wild chant.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Praise be to God who doeth all things well.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shinar hath seen the glory of the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nimrod, who piled up Babel to the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies sprawling under it, and the thunders laugh.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting in the direction of the abbey.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who lieth under Babel?—Up, Pierre;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have a message. Rise, for you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must bear it to your sainted abbot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre rises and, with his head thrown back and his hands</i> +<i>covering his face, without waiting, goes straight out,</i> +<i>left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Benedict to his brother in Christ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greeting:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lieth under Babel? You were right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In saying that the storm would shake the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It hath indeed played havoc. Certain trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the churchyard tore the graves up, and the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have shaken roofs and spires in the town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We lost our cross.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear you, too, lost somewhat. Gables though<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can be repaired.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We should both thank our Lord he hath not let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lamb he careth for be scathed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lieth under Babel?"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Coming out in the street and shouting after Pierre.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And to the brother, the dear ward of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convey felicitations!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask him to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell you the color of the abbot's hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This morning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The stars are flying in and out the clouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain tops are tinging;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night passes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rouse up, and behold the Dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pouring her beautiful gold upon the world!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run down and see the print the bishop John<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sent me from Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind Samson's head, who pulled the pillars down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under a dog's paws in the Gaza streets.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his car, as a salutation for the Sabbath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bark this from Benedict, from Benedict, the dog:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Pride is a wind that from the shores of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloweth far off where neither sun nor moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor stars shine nor shall shine forevermore."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath heard one prayer. Come in, men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He enters the church. After a silence the men about the</i> +<i>steps begin to talk among themselves in undertones.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of Them</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Calling through the door.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i40">Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—If he don't let us go, let's go ourselves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Reappearing.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Who called? <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i15">What is it?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>—Before you come out, Father, the monk spoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like as how the chase was on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—"Run to the mountains, men!"<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— "Quick! quick!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—Said we should find him before Satan comes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>—That was before you came out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Man</span>—Spoke like as how the dogs were on his trail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Run, some one, and fetch Pierre back.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Two men dart out, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He did not tell me this. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i28">Arm yourselves, men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>In a mass the men hurry out, left, a confused hum of voices</i> +<i>rising for a moment, then dying away in the distance.</i> +<i>The scene has grown darker. A gust of wind blows to</i> +<i>the door of the church.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Alone upon the steps.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">This is the day. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Inscrutable are the ways of God. Dark, dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfathomable the sea in which He moves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He changeth as the waters change, and yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountains strike their roots in Him and stand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thunder right. The priest comes down from the steps</i> +<i>and out into the street, where he stands looking up at</i> +<i>the sky.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy ways are not our ways. Thy voice is heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abroad upon the firmament. The stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That should have been put out an hour ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burn bright upon the edges of the storm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Satan hath laid his hand upon the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the day gropes, feeling her way far off<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As doth the blind. But yesterday the morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walked beautiful on the mountains, with her lamp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindled as for the Resurrection.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the Sabbath, yet Golgotha's gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs o'er the Sepulcher, and like a torch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrown down upon the mountains burns the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A scant blue flame far down behind the world.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A pause.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God shall not call in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">I will forgive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bitter words. The lost shall be reclaimed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks briskly back and climbs the steps and enters the</i> +<i>church. A man with a shovel on his shoulder appears</i> +<i>coming from back in the churchyard. He stops by the</i> +<i>fence and looks about.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Man</span>—Don't see them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From back in the churchyard.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i11">Someone's moaning in the church.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Another man appears with a shovel. They listen. Faint</i> +<i>shouting, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First Man</span>—Let's leave our shovels here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They put down their shovels and get over the low fence into</i> +<i>the open space before the church and start, left. Pierre</i> +<i>is heard returning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—But it was not his fault.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Between the two men he enters wringing his hands.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was the fiends that did it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas his hand but— <span class="directline">(<i>Starting back.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">They're hiding—they're hiding back of there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He points to the broken top of the poplar tree that hangs</i> +<i>out in the street. The men from the churchyard come</i> +<i>from behind it.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, they've been by the graves!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He covers his face with his hands and bends up and down,</i> +<i>sobbing hysterically.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One of the Men</span>— What has he done?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With a great shining crucifix upon a staff, the priest appears</i> +<i>in the doorway and comes hurriedly down the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Pierre, in the name of God, all-hail!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I greet you as one having holy lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since God hath chosen you to set on fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one bright word all days to be. Pierre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which way hath he gone? God is waiting.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The seraphim—Nay, fear me not, for I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have been baptized with fire that hath fallen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly from heaven. Which way hath he gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the high places fly the seraphim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And banners flash and fade among the clouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lord of Life into my power hath given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life of him who spoke—I will forgive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bitter words. This is the day of days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within I shine, though round about the storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreadeth her gloom. Even my hands are dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thunder peals the muster of the dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Faint shouts, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Falling upon his knees.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">They've bitten him! they've bitten him! Pray! pray! pray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Nay, Pierre, these are shouts of them whose mouths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall sing upon the mountains when my hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall rend the hound and pluck the blind from death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His breath is in the hollow of my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though he taunted me and though I might—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He blows in his palm.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dream shall be fulfilled. Throughout all time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All dreams shall hail this dream a holy thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath chosen from all days this holy day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wake and run. While from the Sepulcher<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God rolls the stone back, the dream opens hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slips the dogs while angels have the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth the Angel of the Resurrection,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand in hand with the hunter's dream, shall run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fiery feet over the ages leaving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Luminous the eyes of holy men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me this is a great day. From the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purposes of God, in fold on fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fall round and mantle me with light. Pierre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In what dread shape came Blindness through the halls<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of the abbey, feeling for the brother's eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the darkness? What did he say when God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one blow blotted out the moon and sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever, and the faces of his friends?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgiveness did he cry for, for the things—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that is past. I have been and shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yesterday and to-morrow, Benedict.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day, as nameless as the stars of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgetful of all injuries like the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rush about the earth and, like the lightning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will strike where God shall throw me. Like the rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall fall mercifully on hot eyes that lit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a few hours before with pride and scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now are dark forever.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— Oh! Oh! Oh!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—I will not say that. God in his power can make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blind earth fill the sockets of the blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With balls as bright as orbs of seraphim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or without eyes can fill the soul with light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your brother, Pierre, fell upon the dark—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>My</i> brother; I will say it and forgive—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our brother fell on darkness not last night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But long since turned his shining face away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From light, and gradually as the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sinks, sank low down where sun and moon and stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, "Vanity!" and the grave is over all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The sobbing of Pierre is heard.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But he shall rise. I thank God for this power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall be to my glory that for hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I returned love. Vengeance is His, and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simply a wind to blow and do His will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God shall have praise, but I shall have praise, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Names shall be written high and lamps shall burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under them, so that all the saints may see.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes out in the street and stands looking in the direction</i> +<i>in which the men went, talking to himself.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then some who with high heads walked this low earth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not my prayer, but if God so decide—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a day will bring forth no man can—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Turning back.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i43">Pierre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did he speak of me when the blow fell? Did he say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I wronged that holy man"? Did he say that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what word bade he farewell to the stars?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did not remorse—Why do you look at me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes of horror?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shuddering.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i23">Out into the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if to—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He presses his hands into his eyes.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—With no word?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— "The dogs! the dogs!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And called, then, I suppose, upon the dwarf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did he appear and give him back his eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I judge not, from these tears that trickle down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And did no sinner's wail go up to God?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, Pierre, will plant eyes in his blind soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what cry hoisted he sail for the dark land?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Between sobs.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">"Father—Woden!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—Ha, and he saw him, then!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried to the Father that the heathen god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was putting out his eyes! 'Tis well. In that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last flash God showed him whence the darkness came.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>One of the men who came back with Pierre whispers to the</i> +<i>Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Lord Jesus knows that it was not his fault.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Amazed.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Did he do that, Pierre, did he do that?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—'Twas not his fault.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <i>Put out his eyes himself!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—Oh, in his fever—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— What will sin not do!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—And someone—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Rather than look upon my face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By this deed he admits the charge I made.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>—And someone—someone told him of the dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How that the dogs should tear him—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Stop right there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You come down here to cast his blood on me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the hand inside this hellish glove.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He turns and comes straight out into the street.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Timidly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas that that did it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand and shouting aloud.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i25">Go back, men, go back!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We will stay here! This I will <i>not</i> forgive.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He returns toward the church and climbs the steps. On</i> +<i>top he stops, stands for a moment, then sets his crucifix</i> +<i>in the doorway and comes back down. Pierre, fearing</i> +<i>he is about to be attacked, draws back. The priest follows</i> +<i>him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know who sent you down here and I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why. <span class="directline">(<i>Shaking his finger.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i5">Pierre, had this word not been distilled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under old fangs and put in your young mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sting should cost you something. As it is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In you I overlook it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Hoarse with wrath.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i23">The old snake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God shall pass judgment between me and him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seraphim shall burn his mouth with coals.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accursed envy! He beneath the wreck<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of Babel lies and thence looks out and sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me in white garments on the mount of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Going toward glory, and it rankles in him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Women appear in the doorway.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so he seeks to terrify my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With: "Hide from the lightning! God is in it!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though I went toward Ramoth-Gilead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Ahab's hand smoking with prophets' blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is why he told you to tell me this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I will not be terrified by him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Pierre backs out.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Accursed envy! And you tell him so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much rather would he see the brother lost—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The women press too close and the crucifix tumbles down</i> +<i>the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is it you do? Go back in there! God's curse—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking after Pierre.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On any man who would much rather see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dear son lost than see me glorified.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell <i>him</i> to hide. The wind that curls these clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the same wind that blew last night. Does he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With black mouth cry to me my hand is red?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it be, if he think so, you tell him to stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his wrecked gable and watch Benedict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walk right straight up to God with this red hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take the crown and leave no finger marks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>On tiptoe, Madam Valmy steals down the steps to recover</i> +<i>the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As for his charge that I have done this deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him it smells of Hell.—Go back in there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Madam Valmy goes back up the steps and the women withdraw</i> +<i>from the door.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Daunted shall I be by lying lips?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall Belial reign? Shall God call twice and thrice?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not leave my cup of glory stand<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Untouched because the old snake cannot drink;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because he, having wormwood on his lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cries: "God boils in the wine upon the heights!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will drink it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Armed and with Jacques Sar at their head, the men enter</i> +<i>silent, their faces showing disappointment. In the</i> +<i>disorder in which they enter, there are traces of three</i> +<i>lines into which they had been drawn up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— We will go, men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The men brighten up and become turbulent, and the three</i> +<i>lines immediately reappear. The priest walks back toward</i> +<i>the church.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i36">Pick up—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A man goes toward the crucifix that lies on the ground.</i> +<i>The Priest steps upon the steps and turns, facing the</i> +<i>men. While he speaks, Jacques Sar marches the lines</i> +<i>right and wheels them around so as to face left, the</i> +<i>direction in which Pierre came and went. For others</i> +<i>who keep coming in, he finds places in the lines and,</i> +<i>examining weapons and moving the men about, goes</i> +<i>up and down with the air of an old commander.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the grandest day that ever mixed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her golden hair with banners. The hunter's dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That flashed and vanished in the night, after<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lying like our Lord three days in darkness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bursts like a shining angel upon the world<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He receives the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And dazzles. We see not clearly, for the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blinds as the darkness doth. All night the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tumbled as a man in fever. Saints on fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walked grandly on the mountain combs and called,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the graves opened, and the silent ones—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can it mean that of the churchyard dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the soldiers rose? And that, too, when<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Hell's hand was heavy on the brother? Men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At midnight riding down the mountain, I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw wonders and heard things I dare not tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the hounds are I know not, but I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One up there hath a snare laid for them. And I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see my name in fire on those clouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These winds shall blow it luminous, and all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world shall see it, and all time. Then some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now accuse me will come round with smiles.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I will not be terrified by him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He says something under his breath and comes quickly</i> +<i>down the steps and out into the street where he shouts</i> +<i>after Pierre.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell the old man I go upon this chase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of no love for him or for his monk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I despise them both. You<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him just what I say and why I go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him the storm hath spoken to me. Say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw a hand of fire in the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beckon, and heard a trumpet peal in heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thinks I am a coward. So I am;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear to disobey the voice of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore go. Listen to me, Pierre!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You tell him this: Had Heaven not delivered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its orders to me, by the throne of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a spear—Hear me?—not a single spear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should redden in the rescue of this monk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for his charge that I have done this deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell him it smells of Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thunder right. The priest turns and for a time contemplates</i> +<i>the sky in silence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i36">One of you men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run and ask Pierre which way hath he gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there are trails and trails.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A man darts out, left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Fly fast now, Noel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Rapt, looking off at the sky, right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Why should the storm move that way, if the chase—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Turning left.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lies yon way? We will wait.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Aloud.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">God seems to call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up yonder where the lightning cracks the sky.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>After a silence, with his eyes upon the heavens.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like golden links your names shall hang to mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dangle down the ages. Men shall say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"This man and that man were with Benedict<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the glory of the Lord that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When heathendom went tumbling down to hell."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, you shall live forever envied men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks about buried in his thought. Occasionally he</i> +<i>stops for a moment in meditation, then resumes his pace.</i> +<i>Old Jacques, hesitatingly and stopping whenever the</i> +<i>priest stops, follows him about as though he wished to</i> +<i>communicate something, but was uncertain whether to</i> +<i>break his revery. The men watch them in silence.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>Approaching the lines, his chin still</i> +<i>upon his breast.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Something I have to tell you, hitherto,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his own good, religiously concealed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For adulation maketh pride to swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And man becomes an idol. <span class="directline">(<i>Looking up.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i26">Years ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prophesy went sounding down the south<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sent a thrill through Christendom. From Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echo came to us. The rumor ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in the Saxon forest lived a boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through whom the North should come contrite to God:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shepherd as was Moses and therefore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prepared to lead his people. Friar Paul<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Was sent to flash the light upon his way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And win him unto Christ, to make his staff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put forth green Christian buds. With what result<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I need not tell you. Few, few men can bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honor and the favor of the Most High. He,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moses himself could not. "Watch Moses now;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And struck the rock. And then God: "Now watch Me;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave his staff to Joshua. And here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I find a lesson, this: Glory shall pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the proud man to the humble man. To-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I take that prophesy up in <i>my</i> hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with it seek the mountains of our God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heathendom shall fall like Jerich—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Man</span>—(<i>Returning.</i>) Says<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He don't know which way. Lost him in the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The crowd stands silent, not knowing which way to go. A</i> +<i>woman appears in the doorway.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Woman</span>—Madam Bacqueur in her swoon hath thrice cried out:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O keep from the mountains! Look! See there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fire of God falls on the hills. See! See!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—The voice of Hell that fears our coming. Woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baths her entranced brows with holy water.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The woman goes back in the church. Jacques speaks to the</i> +<i>Priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Man</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause, from the rear line.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Let's go toward the abbey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>In the front line, pointing right.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">This way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Another</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shaking his head, as though fearing the storm.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i41">No.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Second Man</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting, left.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i47">Jules!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks on a few paces and, frowning with impatience,</i> +<i>beckons in with his arm.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—This is a sudden beam on the dark web.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—And his blood shed down yonder by the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">bridge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—And the storm moving toward that mountain top.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>To the men.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jacques tells me that our honored bailiff lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His martial limbs half hanging in the grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—I fear the bell will toll 'fore night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>deeply moved.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i53">The dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soldiers are up to meet their sergeant.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He walks quietly back and climbs the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i41">Men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wing and wing this terrible morning, fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two avenging angels toward one mountain top.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One in his hand two bloody eyeballs bears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other, an old man's picture with a wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swollen and with Death's finger in it. Fixed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On two eyes are their four eyes. Toward one man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Four wings and two bright swords are on their way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They light! They beckon me! I see it all!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From two wounds two red trails converge in one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hounds that have their noses on the track<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the brother, had their tongues in Jardin's blood!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The big white talbot is Canzler!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>There is a moment's silence so intense that the wind is heard</i> +<i>whistling among the white crosses in the churchyard.</i> +<i>Then a terrible shout goes up.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shouts</span>—Down with him!<br /></span> +<span class="i22">To Hell with the hounds!<br /></span> +<span class="i38">Lead us! Lead us!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Jacques strikes with his sword and the lines move swiftly</i> +<i>to the left, the direction of the abbey.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">God's purposes begin where man's prayers end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>On fire.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Right about! Face the heathen and face God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The lines wheel and face right, the direction in which the</i> +<i>storm is moving.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Transported.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">This is most wonderful. Men, Hell hath here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Packed all her seeds in one infernal bloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who knew till this beam fell where to turn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth let no man say he knows the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God will move on the morrow, for in a flash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hem of his great garment passeth by.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Bacqueur enters with an armful of swords and spears. On</i> +<i>his left shoulder hangs a great shield.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Here's two men have none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>— Here, Jules!<br /></span> +<span class="i54">Hand me one!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> +(<i>Half to himself, his face upturned to</i> +<i>the sky.</i>)</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What have I done that Thou shouldst honor me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With glory such as no man ever—Nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not for me this glory is prepared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I have ever labored for another.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou movest in her and she in me and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am but a cloud upon her gale and storm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let no man move a foot. I know my time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see me but you see not what I see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath arranged to bring us face to face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is no combat between merely men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All Heathendom gives chase in this big hound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our brother stands for all men lost to God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my hand is the hand of Christendom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Bacqueur offers him a sword.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, I have weapons that ye know not of.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Looking off at the storm.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lightnings whip the foothills and the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sag with the weight of the wrath of the Lord of Hosts.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>His face becomes luminous.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who hears what I hear? Speak out. Then be still.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>With an old scarlet flag, amid the folds of which sections</i> +<i>of a white cross are seen, Hugh Capet comes running in.</i> +<i>Seeing the priest entranced upon the steps and the men</i> +<i>hushed with awe, he checks himself.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand, without turning.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If any man moves I will call down fire. <span class="directline">(<i>A silence.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">To-day the last great tower of Hell goes down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He comes down the steps.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>His voice quivering with emotion.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">This banner once waved over Acre, men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—And we will plant it on Jerusalem.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Shouts</span>—God's with us! God's with us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Lifting his hand.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Hear my last word.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Silence!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— Let there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No shouting or any noise. Let us go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quietly as befits the Sabbath day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vales blow white. Yonder the mountains stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like quiet altars waiting sacrifice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, with the holy banner of God, stand here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now if there be among you one who hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guilt, looking upon this storm let him step<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out, lay his spear down and stay here and not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tempt the wrath of God. For soon upon the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens shall blacken and there shall be a loud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst of His power and the shining glory of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pause a moment. Let that man step out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i4">Then you have naught to fear. The innocent<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Are safe. God's shield is over them. Come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—The signal, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— The signal shall be this:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Attention, men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— I shall uplift the Christ.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He raises the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And God, burning the clouds to ashes, will throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightning upon Antichrist. Then you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charge. <span class="directline">(<i>A roll of thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i9">The trumpets of the heavenly host.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>— Now, men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up with your spears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Benedict</span>— There shall be wonders done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He starts right, the lines following him.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In years to come, men, tell your children this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When God crowned Benedict upon the heights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not Benedict but the Church He crowned.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go out silent. The scene has become darker and the</i> +<i>wind is heard whistling among the white crosses in the</i> +<i>churchyard. Back in the church through the open door</i> +<i>is seen the beautifully carven Christ with overhead in</i> +<i>golden letters the inscription: FORGIVE THEM</i> +<i>FOR THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY—. The</i> +<i>DO has never been put on.</i>)</p></div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE THREE—The mountain side, as in Scene one of</i> +<i>the third Act. There is heard a steady roar as of wind</i> +<i>over vast forests, and all about are signs of an approaching</i> +<i>storm. At intervals an unnatural, ghastly light as</i> +<i>from rifted clouds swiftly driving overhead passes across</i> +<i>the scene. In a moment the gloom has returned and the</i> +<i>trees are racing back into the shadow.</i></p> + +<p><i>Back upon the ledge, his long yellow hair tossing in the</i> +<i>wind, stands Rudolph watching the gathering of the storm.</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>To himself.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Flying on starless wings the Powers of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep back the bird of morning till the Norns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have traced the lines of guilt and set the snare.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>A moment later Canzler appears coming down the sheep-path.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—What was that shouting down the mountain for?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning quickly.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">The whirling of the wheel!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— The wheel?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Hurrying forward.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i39">Look there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the vast felly flies! Far out it swings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sways the forests. Look at it, Canzler!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For miles around below the mountain heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm goes racing in a wheel whose hub<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turns on the village spire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler follows him back along the ledge.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">Awhile ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divinely guided through the mountain ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A common cloud, afloat upon the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blotted the stars that glimmered in the tarn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whirled into a wheel. Around the rim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flows the white cloud-wool, and a thread is drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the hills. The distaffs of the Norns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow big with fate, and, sitting there in silence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their withered fingers from this flying skein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loop off the lives of men. Val-father takes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his almighty hand the reins of things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drives them either way through earth and air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouting far down the mountain.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—I heard that far up on the mountain tops.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—In some procession honoring their god.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—But louder now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— And nearer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Where is Fritz?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Rounding the sheep up. <span class="directline">(<i>Shouting again.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i30">They have crossed the bridge.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Turning and looking at Rudolph.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Honoring their god upon the mountain side?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—'Tis the great dragon crawling through the hills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—No wonder darkness fills the valley.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i39"> <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause</i>.)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in a storm like this!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Hunger.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— No doubt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there is hunger in the heavens, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—And the two face. <span class="directline">(<i>They listen.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i29">The Asas all night long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were loud above the mountains as though some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vast purpose long pent up were finding way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—And Selma heard it like a river flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Washing the peaks and down the wooded slopes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the valley where the dragon lies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Shouts still afar but growing nearer.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That belly levels all things in the plain. <span class="directline">(<i>Thunder.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Val-father's voice from out the clouds mid-air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meets with the dragon's voice and devours it. Hark!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—It may lay hands on Fritz.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes back along the ledge and starts down the mountain.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— Be careful, chief!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wheel moves this way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— It is following them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Here he comes running up the mountain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Where?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—Wait till the lightning shows the slopes again.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They listen. The shouts draw nearer.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—The Bailiff's blood has roused them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— With that blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Val-father has enticed it from its lair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tempt the mountains and to seek for more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up here! Coming up here!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—(<i>Shouting.</i>) Fritz!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>— The dark bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose scattered roots the years have fed, at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfolds its petals to the sun. The North<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all her graves is waiting for the dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day Val-father lays his shadow by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Go up the rocks and blow the battle horn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Rudolph goes leaping up the rocks.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And let the battle cry be "Dachtelfeld"!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rudolph</span>—The peaks are tipped with day!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He disappears up the rocks.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Selma</span>—(<i>Above.</i>) Where are you, Father?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Lightning.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Stay from the timber! Don't get near the trees!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Thunder.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stay in the open, Selma!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The form of Canzler, who stands back upon the ledge, disappears</i> +<i>in the gathering gloom.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Selma</span>— Father!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Fritz</span>—(<i>Down the mountain.</i>) Chief!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>There is heard, at first scarcely audible but rising more and</i> +<i>more, low music as of spirit voices. Above, just where</i> +<i>the sheep-path enters the bushes, Selma appears coming</i> +<i>hurriedly down. Hearing the music, she stops and,</i> +<i>listening, becomes as one entranced.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Almost in a whisper.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Father!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Canzler comes forward into view. The girl, still transported</i> +<i>and more like a being of the air, has come further</i> +<i>down the path.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">Oh, hear them!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Go back, go back, child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shall not harm you. <span class="directline">(<i>She rushes to him.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i25">They will not come up here.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>The girl lays her hand on his arm. They listen.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only Val-father's voice along the storm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Voice of Fritz</span>—Chief!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— It is Fritz.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—- The trees—the trees are singing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild vines and the mountain flowers—Oh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Father, see!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— What ails you, child?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—The elves—the storm elves gather in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And up the mountain there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear them, Father! Hear the fairies calling!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the white flakes! The dog-wood blooms are falling!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She runs wildly up the path.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He's coming, Father! Oswald's coming!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She disappears among the bushes. In the rear Fritz is seen</i> +<i>climbing up the mountain.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Who goes leaping on up the rocks.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Chief!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Here I am.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Fritz leaps back down to the ledge and comes hurrying forward.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>Out of breath.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i21">They've killed—they've killed the sheep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like hungry dogs. It's us they're after, though.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dashed in and slashed them with their swords. Hear that!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Wild shouting below.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That's for our blood. <span class="directline">(<i>They listen.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i22">If we don't arm, chief,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>— Hark!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fritz</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>After a pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">If we don't arm—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Up the mountain sounds the battle horn.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">To have lived to see this day!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He hurries up the path and disappears.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Canzler</span>—Val-father's winds have blown them here to die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>He goes up the path. The music is now distinctly heard</i> +<i>above the noise of the storm. A flash of lightning reveals,</i> +<i>in the rear, the dwarf climbing up the mountain,</i> +<i>leading Oswald by the hand. Instantly loud and prolonged</i> +<i>shouting bursts up from about a hundred feet</i> +<i>below. The two come hurrying forward along the</i> +<i>ledge. Oswald's face is streaked with blood and from</i> +<i>the end of its black cord, his silver crucifix, likewise</i> +<i>stained, dangles almost to his knees. Gradually it slips</i> +<i>lower and lower till it finally falls and lies upon the</i> +<i>grass. Having reached the path, they make their way</i> +<i>up and are soon lost to view. That peculiar light which</i> +<i>one sometimes sees when clouds are rifted during a</i> +<i>storm illumines the scene and makes the green grass and</i> +<i>trees show almost like flame. Below, voices are heard,</i> +<i>and soon, climbing up the mountain, Father Benedict</i> +<i>appears, his face pale, his eyes set before him. Upon</i> +<i>the skirt of his snow-white chasuble there is seen, slanting</i> +<i>down, a red streak as though he had pressed against</i> +<i>a bloody sword-blade. Behind him, scattered, come,</i> +<i>first, Hugh Capet with the great flag blown straight</i> +<i>out in the wind, then Jules Bacqueur and Jacques Sar,</i> +<i>their swords dripping, and, after them, the other villagers.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—Straight ahead. Father! Straight ahead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span>— <span class="directline">(<i>From below.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">See them, Hugh?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—You come on; we'll find them.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Instead of coming forward to the path, which the bushes</i> +<i>and bowlders hide from their view, they go pushing</i> +<i>straight on up the rocks.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—Come on, men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Stay together, men! <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +<span class="i0">Hold her low, Phil!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Up the mountain sounds the battle-horn.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Hear that! Hear that!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Don't get scared, men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Don't get scared! Don't get scared!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A voice</span>—God's with us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">All</span>—God's with us! God's with us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—Come on, men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Wait for the signal! Wait for the signal, men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>All look to the priest.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—Now, Father.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A voice</span>—Now. <span class="directline">(<i>A pause.</i>)<br /></span></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>—Signal! signal!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Above, sounds the battle-horn, this time nearer.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jacques Sar</span>—Now!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jules Bacqueur</span>—Now then!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Now! Now! NOW!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>Slowly the priest lifts the crucifix.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">All</span>—God's with us! God's with us!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>They go springing up the mountain. A flash of lightning</i> +<i>strikes the uplifted crucifix and clings for a moment like</i> +<i>a wreath of blue fire round the brow of the priest whose</i> +<i>face shows white as chalk. The crucifix slips from his</i> +<i>fingers and he reels and falls backwards.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cries</span>—Men! Men! Men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p><div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>As the men turn and see the priest, whom Jules has caught</i> +<i>in his arms, borne backward down the slope, some of</i> +<i>them throw down their arms and flee terror-stricken</i> +<i>down the mountain. There is a loud crash of thunder</i> +<i>followed, above, by the shouts of the Saxons who come</i> +<i>charging down upon them. Attempting to rescue the</i> +<i>priest's body, before which Bacqueur has thrown his</i> +<i>great shield, the villagers receive the shock and are</i> +<i>driven back fighting down the mountain, Fritz hacking</i> +<i>at Hugh Capet's head-with his battle ax, Rudolph charging</i> +<i>old Jacques, while Canzler with one slash of his</i> +<i>magic sword slices in two Bacqueur's great shield which</i> +<i>falls like paper from his hands. Even after they have</i> +<i>disappeared, from down the mountain can still be heard</i> +<i>the voice of old Jacques calling to his men in God's</i> +<i>name to stand. Up the slope, caught in the bushes</i> +<i>where it fell, hangs the crucifix, the figure of which is</i> +<i>tarnished and melted by the lightning. On the ledge</i> +<i>just below, outstretched upon the grass, his fingers bent</i> +<i>as though still clutching the crucifix, lies the body of</i> +<i>the priest. The scene gradually becomes darker and the</i> +<i>thunder is still heard reverberating through the mountains.</i>)</p></div> + + +<div class="hangindent"> + +<p><i>SCENE FOUR—A forest on the mountain tops. Untouched</i> +<i>by the storm, which has swept the lower slopes,</i> +<i>the trees here stand calm and motionless. Flowers are</i> +<i>everywhere. Far off, between the innumerable trunks, is</i> +<i>seen a space of dark sky rifted near the horizon and bright</i> +<i>with the red and gold of the new dawn. From the left,</i> +<i>into this forest stillness, silent as the scene itself, comes</i> +<i>the dwarf leading Oswald by the hand. There is now no</i> +<i>blood upon the latter's face which, slightly upturned, is</i> +<i>lighted as with a soul conscious of a great crisis and hearing</i> +<i>its approach in the least noise. Suddenly, from far</i> +<i>to the right, the voice of Selma is heard. Instantly the</i> +<i>dwarf vanishes. Oswald starts and stands as one in a</i> +<i>dream.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Selma</span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>At first afar, then drawing nearer and nearer until at last</i> +<i>she rushes in gleefully. She is dressed, as in the first</i> +<i>Act, in green, and upon her head she wears a coronet of</i> +<i>wild-flowers.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald! Oswald!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="directcenter"> + +<p>(<i>She starts, and throws herself at his feet, covering her face</i> +<i>with her hands. The disc of the sun, emerging above</i> +<i>the line of clouds, shoots its myriad golden needles</i> +<i>through the wood. Revealed in the light, like things</i> +<i>seen in a mirage, a number of fairies are discerned</i> +<i>watching the two. From far down the mountain comes</i> +<i>the sound of a bell tolling.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="transnote"> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<h2><a name="Transcribers_Notes" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber's Notes:</a></h2> + + +<p>Table of Contents added by Transcriber.</p> + +<p>Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were silently corrected.</p> + +<p>Punctuation normalized.</p> + +<p>Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Saxons, by Edwin Davies Schoonmaker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAXONS *** + +***** This file should be named 47241-h.htm or 47241-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/2/4/47241/ + +Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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