(_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._)