  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!" 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 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. 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.) (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. 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 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 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 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 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 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 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.) |
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