  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, 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 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, 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, 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 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? 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 (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 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 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 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 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. |
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