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.