HOLGER. Oh-h!--Thou hast seen mother and father!
BERTEL. (_Draws the stool nearer the fire and sits, the children
promptly drop on the floor beside him_) By our Lady, yes!--and walking
so fast they had only time to throw me a word from the sides of their
mouths. "Go up," cried Mother,--"I wist my boys are deep in tears!"--and
I, not wishing to see you drown in so much water--
HOLGER. (_Patting his arm_) Dear Uncle Bertel!
STEEN. (_Rising on his knees_) Come, let's go quick!
BERTEL. Patience, patience, young colt, plenty of time, mother said
something else.
STEEN. What?
BERTEL. (_His eye on the shelf above the fire_) That I should find some
warm porridge for my pains.
HOLGER. (_Springing to his feet_) Why, of course, there _is_
porridge! (_He goes to the shelf_) Nice and warm it is! All ready
for supper. (_He hands the first bowl to_ BERTEL, STEEN _capers
nimbly across the intervening space and seats himself on the side of the
hearth, facing_ BERTEL, _his back to the audience_)
STEEN. Supper! How could we forget supper?--Give me a _big_ bowlful,
Holger.
HOLGER. (_Handing_ STEEN _his porridge_) There isn't a _big_
bowlful here.
STEEN. (_Taking the bowl and hugging it_) Nice kind good supper, umh!
(_Begins to eat eagerly_)
HOLGER. (_Suddenly looking toward the door_) Listen!
BERTEL. To what?
HOLGER. (_Awed, hesitant_) Someone--sobbing--at the door! (_He goes
to it, the others watching him startled, he opens the door, finds nothing,
closes it and comes back_) Nothing there!
BERTEL. The wind!--Thy old tricks, Holger,--always dreaming some strange
thing.
HOLGER. (_Recalled by_ BERTEL'S _words to something else_) Didst
thou pass an old woman on the road--near here?
BERTEL. Not a soul nearer than the town gate. (HOLGER _stands thinking,
absorbed_) Come, boy, eat,--_eat_! See how Steen eats!
HOLGER. (_Breaks through his abstraction and reverts to his bright
self_) Oh, Uncle Bertel,--I'm too glad to eat!
BERTEL. (_More seriously_) Thou art right, lad,--fasting were better
than feasting this day in Tralsund!--they say,--do you know what they
say in the town?
HOLGER. What?
BERTEL. They say--that to-night in the great church--when the offerings
are laid upon the altar for the Christ child,--_something will happen_!
(STEEN _has finished his porridge, puts the bowl on the shelf near
him, seizes his cloak and cap from the peg near the hearth and
stands eager to be gone._)
HOLGER. What?
BERTEL. Who can say? All day the folk have been pouring into the town as
never before. The market place is crowded, every inn is full. No church
but the cathedral could hold such a multitude. Never have I seen such
excitement, such fervor!
HOLGER. There will be many gifts!
BERTEL. --the rich are bringing their treasure, gold and jewels, king's
ransoms, aye and the King comes. (BERTEL _finishes his porridge and
hands the bowl to_ STEEN)
HOLGER. The King?
BERTEL. The King Himself!
STEEN. Oh, and shall we see Him, Uncle, and the fine gifts and
everything?
BERTEL. Why not?--Even the poorest may go up and give--what hast thou to
offer?
STEEN. (_Abashed_) I?--Nothing! (_Puts his porridge bowl and_
BERTEL'S _on the shelf then goes restlessly to the door_)
HOLGER. (_Breaking in with eagerness_) Oh, I have, see, Uncle?
(_Feels in his pocket and brings out two pennies_) See!--Last week
I was gathering sticks in the forest and a fine gentleman rode past and
asked the way of me. I showed him the path and he gave me these!
(_Holds up the pennies_)
BERTEL. (_Rising and going to_ HOLGER _who is in the middle of the
room_) Faith, real money in the family. (_Stoops and looks at the
pennies as though they were a rare sight_)
STEEN. Oh, I thought we were going to buy cakes with those, Holger.
HOLGER. But it's better to give it to the Christ Child. You see He is a
little child, smaller than even you,--and I think He would like a little
gift,--a little bright gift that would buy cakes for Him. (HOLGER _goes
toward the window and stands looking dreamily out at the lights of the
church_)
BERTEL. Aye, to-night we must think of Him,--there in His Holy Church.
HOLGER. It _is_ a holy place, the church!--I feel it every time I
go,--it's like God's forest,--the pillars like old oaks and the great
windows all colors like sunsets through the trees.
BERTEL. _'Tis_ like the forest.
HOLGER. And when the organ plays that's like a storm gathering in the
mountains.
BERTEL. A storm?--Aye!--"The Lord hath His way in the whirlwind and in
the storm and the clouds are the dust of His feet!"--Why should He not
do a wonder as of old? Perhaps the great miracle will come again!
HOLGER. Oh, which, Uncle?--There are so many in the Bible!
STEEN. Yes, which?--Would there be a whale now to swallow a priest?
BERTEL. Thou goosey! This was no Bible miracle,--it happened there,
_there_, where we see the lights,--hundreds of years ago. (BERTEL
_has followed_ HOLGER _to the window and_ STEEN _joins them.
As he speaks_ BERTEL _slips his arms affectionately round both
children and the three stand looking out. At this moment something stirs
in the dim shadows that shroud the corner up above the fire-place.
Suddenly out of the dark the_ OLD WOMAN _emerges. A tall figure,
if she were not so bent, wrapped in a black cloak. There is nothing
grotesque or sinister in her appearance, she might have stood for a
statue of old age, impressive in its pathos. As she sits on the stool
near the fire she throws back the cloak disclosing the plain straight
dress of gray beneath. The light of the fire reveals her crouched,
swaying back and forth praying silently, her face still shaded by the
heavy hood of her cloak. The others gazing intently out at the church
do not see her._ BERTEL _continues speaking_) Surely thou hast
heard of the Miracle of the Chimes?
HOLGER. I've heard folks speak of it,--but I never knew just what
happened.
STEEN. Oh, tell us, Uncle Bertel.
BERTEL. Aye, listen then!--You see the great tower there?--(_Both
children nod emphatically_) It goes so high into the clouds that no one
can see it's top!--No one even knows how high it is for the men who
built it have been dead for hundreds of years.
STEEN. But what has that to do with the chimes?
HOLGER. Hush, Steen, let uncle speak!
BERTEL. The chimes are up at the top of the tower--and they are holy
bells,--miraculous bells, placed there by sainted hands,--and when they
rang 'twas said that angels' voices echoed through them.
STEEN. Why doesn't someone ring them _now_?
BERTEL. Ah, that is not so easy!--They are said to ring on Christmas Eve
when the gifts are laid on the altar for the Christ-child,--but not
every offering will ring them, it must be a perfect gift. And for all
these years not one thing has been laid upon the altar good enough to
make the chimes ring out.
HOLGER. Oh, that's what the priest was talking about to mother, then. He
said it mustn't be just a fine gift for show but something full of love
for the Christ-child.
STEEN. Oh, I want to hear them!
BERTEL. _We shall!_--The very air is full of holy mystery! The Spirit
of Christ will be there in the church to-night! (_To_ HOLGER) Thy cap,
boy!
(HOLGER _stands wrapt in thought gazing out at the cathedral._)
STEEN. (_Taking the cap and cloak from the peg near the door and
bringing them down and piling them into_ HOLGER'S _arms_) Here
they are, old dreamer!--(_He turns back up toward the door in such a
way that he does not see the silent figure in the corner_) _And
hurry!_
(BERTEL _too turns toward his left hand and does not see the
woman._)
HOLGER. (_In a tone of bright happiness, roused from his dreaming_) I'm
coming!--Nothing can happen to stop us now, can it? (_As he says this he
wheels to his right in a way that brings the chimney corner in his line
of vision. He starts, bends forward staring as the others open the door,
then he speaks in a tone that is little more than a gasp_) _Steen!_
(_The others stop and stare at him, then in the direction of his
look._)
STEEN. Oh!--The Old Woman!
BERTEL. (_Looking to_ STEEN) When did she come in?
STEEN. I didn't see her!
(HOLGER _crosses timidly towards her. As he approaches the_ OLD
WOMAN _turns her eyes on him and holds out her hands in pitiful
appeal._)
HOLGER. What dost thou want, dame?
OLD WOMAN. (_In a voice that is harsh and broken_) Refuge--from the
storm of the world!
HOLGER. Surely thou shalt rest here.
OLD WOMAN. (_Half rises stiffly as_ HOLGER _draws nearer_) Oh,
son, I am so weary and so heavy laden. (_She sways and_ HOLGER
_runs forward, catching her in his arms and supporting her on the stool.
The others stand watching. She sits huddled forward in a position that
suggests collapse_)
HOLGER. She's faint! (_He touches her hands_) She's so cold! Quick,
Steen, build up the fire! (STEEN _goes to the fire and puts on another
log, the flames blase up_. HOLGER _busies himself chafing the woman's
hands and covering her with the old cloak that has dropped back from her
shoulders_) She must have lost her way in the forest.
BERTEL. (_Stands watching the woman rather suspiciously, now comes to_
HOLGER _taps him on the arm and draws him a little apart, speaking in an
undertone_) We have scant time to lose with that old beggar.
HOLGER. What'll I do with her?
BERTEL. Leave her and come on.
STEEN. And _come_--before it is to-morrow! (_He is back by the door, his
hand on the latch_)
HOLGER. (_Turns and looks at the old woman and then back to_ BERTEL) Oh,
I--ought we to go and leave her?
STEEN. Not go?
BERTEL. Go, of course we'll go, she'll warm herself and march along.
HOLGER. But she is ill. (_Turns to_ STEEN _with new decision in his
manner_) Thou shalt go with Uncle but I--must stay with her.
BERTEL. Nonsense, Holger!
HOLGER. No, it isn't!--If we should all go now, the fire would go out
and the light,--and she would wake up in the cold darkness and not know
where to turn for help.
BERTEL. Na, by Saint Christopher!--Miss a miracle to keep company with
a beggar!--Who held her hand before thou camest along? Send her packing
and make haste, Holger.
STEEN. Oh, do, Holger!
HOLGER. If there were some place near that we could take her.
BERTEL. There isn't a place on the road,--they've all gone to town long
ago. Bid her fare there also!
HOLGER. (_Looks at the_ OLD WOMAN, _then at_ BERTEL, _then back to the_
OLD WOMAN, _then he shakes his head_) Mother wouldn't treat her
so,--she'd be good to her.
BERTEL. Think of what you'll miss! (_An expression of anguish passes
over_ HOLGER'S _face, but he shakes his head and turns toward the old
woman_) Well, this is idle talk, thou and I will go, Steen.
STEEN. Oh, come,--let's go!
BERTEL. (_To_ STEEN, _but for_ HOLGER'S _benefit_) Thou
and I will see the King, perchance--The Christ! Thou art stubborn, Holger,
I who am older tell thee what to do! (HOLGER _shakes his head again_)
Come, Steen! (_He opens the door and goes out_)
STEEN. (_Following him_) Good-bye, Holger.
HOLGER. Good-bye! (STEEN _goes out and shuts the door. There is a
moment's pause while_ HOLGER _stands staring at the closed door, then he
suddenly runs toward it_) Oh, wait, wait for me, Uncle, I will go! (_He
opens the door, starts to go through it, then stops, turns and looks at
the Woman, is drawn slowly backward by his gaze and comes in closing the
door_) No!
WOMAN. (_Moaning_) The path--is so--steep!
HOLGER. (_Goes to her and bends over her_) Didst thou speak, dame?
(_The_ WOMAN _does not answer_) Thou art like Grandmother, and
I know what Mother would do for _her_! (_Feeling her hands_)
Art warmer, dame?--still cold!--The covers aren't very thick. (_He looks
about the bare room, sees the old shawl hanging from the peg near the fire,
takes it down and spreads it over the woman_) Thou must get warm!
(_Goes to the fire and builds it higher_)
WOMAN. (_Still wandering in her mind_) Berries,--yes, find berries.
HOLGER. Oh, thou art hungry! (_He turns to the shelf, takes his own
untasted bowl of porridge, brings it to her_) Dame, here is food!
WOMAN. (_Rousing_) Food, give it to me, child, I am dying for food!
(HOLGER _gives her the porridge and sits down on the floor beside
her._)
HOLGER. (_Watching her as she devours the porridge_) _Ah, poor
soul!_--Why, thou wert starving!--Na, just see!--Mother says that's what
makes my little brother so round and rosy, because he eats so much
porridge,--you like it, don't you?
WOMAN. It is life itself! (_Her voice has grown young and strong. Sinks
back again as she has eaten it all_) Bless thee, Child!
(HOLGER _sets the empty dish aside on the hearth and turns to feel
her hands._)
HOLGER. Oh, thou art warm!
WOMAN. Aye, warm! (_In a voice increasingly rich and sweet. At this
moment there comes the distant sound of organ music._ HOLGER
_straightens suddenly in a listening attitude_) Listen,--is that music?
HOLGER. From the Cathedral!--Aye, it must be,--last summer we could hear
it plain, and now with so many thousands there! (_Leaves the woman and
stands in the center of the room listening attentively_) It's
beginning!--(_Pause_) Everyone is there!
WOMAN. Why are they there.
HOLGER. It's the great service! (_He goes toward the window and stands
looking out. He talks on half to her, half to himself_) All the world is
there, the village folk, and strangers from afar, great court folk,
too,--aye, and the King,--our King! And He will give a gift,--a King's
gift! (_She rises erectly and follows him across the room. There is the
strength and poise of youth in her walk. The heavy black hood has fallen
back revealing a head covering of white linen that suggests a sister of
Charity and gives her face a look of austerity and sweetness. She is
strong, maternal, beautiful. Intuitively,_ HOLGER, _in his
disappointment begins to lean upon her sympathy. The music grows a
little louder and floats into the room_) Look, dame, you can even see
the windows gleam! It is so near! It's all beginning and--I--am not
there! (_A sob creeps into his voice_)
WOMAN. Son!
HOLGER. Aye, dame? (_He turns and comes toward her, she seats herself on
the stool near the window, reaches out a hand and draws him down beside
her_)
WOMAN. Thou, too, wouldst go? (HOLGER, _too moved by her sympathy to
speak, nods silently and puts up a hand to hide the trembling of his
lips. She slips her hand to his shoulder_) Another time thou'll go!
HOLGER. (_Fighting back his tears_) It'll never be the same again!
To-night the Christ comes. Bertel said--"The Christ!"
WOMAN. Nay, son, pray to the Christ-child, pray that He does not pass
thee by! (_She sits facing the back wall of the hut._ HOLGER _kneels
before her, and drops his head in her lap. She lays her hand gently upon
his hair and makes the sign of the cross above him_)
(_As they have been talking together, the fire on the hearth has
burned itself out and the shadows in the room have crept forward and
closed around them till only a faint outline of_ HOLGER _and the_
WOMAN _can be distinguished in the glimmer of moonlight shining
through the window nearby. There is a long pause broken only by the
boy's sobbing which gradually sinks to silence. As he prays, a faint
light begins to grow behind him. The smoke-grimed back wall of the
hut has vanished and in its place appears a vision of the cathedral
chancel.--One by one objects emerge from the darkness. The light
touches the golden altar, the gleaming appointments upon it, the
jewel-like tones of the stained glass window above, and the rich
carpet under foot; it shows the marble arches at the sides and
shines softly on the robe of the kneeling_ PRIEST. _As the dim
vision grows to clearness, so the music comes nearer and swells
forth softly into the Christmas processional. Unconscious of it all_
HOLGER _looks up at the_ WOMAN, _his face swept with despair_.)
HOLGER. Oh, it's no use! I'd rather be all blind and never see than miss
the vision that the Christ will send!
WOMAN. (_Gazing at the vision_) Look, look what comes!
HOLGER. (_Staring at the woman's face illuminated by the light from the
chancel_) Dame! (_He turns to see where the light comes from and the
vision meets his eye_) Oh-h-h-h! (_He crouches back at the_ WOMAN'S
_feet, held spell-bound by the sight. As the music changes the_ PRIEST
_rises slowly to his feet, faces the congregation and makes a gesture of
approach. The voices of the choir join the music, and from the left side
of the chancel, people begin to enter carrying their gifts_)
(_An imperious looking man, richly dressed in black and gold comes
first, bearing a heavy box. He approaches the altar, kneels and puts
the chest in the_ PRIEST'S _hands, and, that the full value of his
gift may be publicly recognised, he throws back the lid, heaping up
the gold coin with which the box is filled. The_ PRIEST _turns, goes
up the steps to the altar and raises the chest as high as its weight
will permit. The man still kneeling awaits the chimes with superb
selfconfidence. The bells do not ring. Slowly the_ PRIEST _lowers
the gold to the altar, turns, raises his hand in blessing and
dismissal. The rich man rises, looking bewildered at his failure,
crosses to the right and stands near the altar as the pageant moves
on._)
(_The_ PRIEST _turns to the next comer_, A COURTIER _brave in green
and gold, who enters with an air of great elegance, bearing daintily
a gilded jewel casket. He kneels, lays it in the_ PRIEST'S _hands.
The latter turns to go but the_ COURTIER _detains him a second,
raises the lid of the box and holds up string after string of rich
gems. The_ PRIEST _carries the jewels to the altar and offers them.
The bells do not ring. The_ PRIEST _dismisses the_ COURTIER, _and
the young man rises, turns back with assumed lightness of manner and
stands at the left of the chancel, watching with great interest._)
(_A beautiful_ WOMAN _clad in flame colored velvet sweeps proudly up
to the steps of the altar, kneels, takes from her neck a long strand
of pearls and offers it to the_ PRIEST. _The_ PRIEST _receives the
necklace, ascends to the altar and offers the jewels. The woman
smiling listens tensely for the chimes. They do not ring. The smile
fades as the_ PRIEST _turns and blesses her. She rises trying to
hide her chagrin in a look of great hauteur, crosses to the right
and stands near the man in black and gold with whom she exchanges
disdainful smiles over the next arrival._)
(_An old white haired man clad in a scholar's robes totters on,
bearing with difficulty a large vellum bound book. The_ PRIEST
_takes a step forward to relieve the Old Man of his burden, and as
he goes up the altar steps the Sage sinks exhausted to his knees,
listening with straining senses for the bells.--They do not ring.
The_ PRIEST _blesses the old man and helps him to rise. He turns
back and stands near the_ COURTIER _at the left._)
(_A lovely young girl enters, dressed in pale green satin, her arms
filled with a sheaf of white lilies. The very way she carries them
and bends her head to catch their fragrance shows that to her they
are the most beautiful things in the world. Kneeling she gives them
into the hands of the_ PRIEST, _and as he offers them, she listens
with childish confidence for the ringing of the bells.--Still there
is no sound save the organ music and the singing of the choir,
subdued almost to a breath as the gifts are offered. Abashed as the_
PRIEST _blesses and dismisses her, the young girl steps back and
stands near the old Sage._)
(_There is a stir in the chancel, even the_ PRIEST _turning to
watch. The_ KING _enters. He is a man of forty with tall
distinguished figure and a proud face. His purple robes, richly
jeweled, trail far behind him and on his head he wears his crown.
Everyone leans forward watching with the greatest tension. The_
KING, _exalted with his mood of selfsacrifice kneels, removes his
crown and lays it in the hands of the_ PRIEST. HOLGER _crouching in
the shadow quivers with anticipation. Again the pantomime of hope
and failure. The_ PRIEST _turns back to the_ KING _and raises his
arm in the customary gesture. The_ KING _starts to rise then
suddenly as though overcome at this spiritual defeat sinks again to
his knees before the altar and buries his face in his hands,
praying. The_ PRIEST _stands with arms crossed upon his breast,
regarding him sorrowfully._)
HOLGER. (_Overwhelmed with disappointment, softly to the woman_) Perhaps
there are no chimes, perhaps the Christ hears us not!
WOMAN. Have faith,--have faith in God.
HOLGER. I would that I could give my pennies to the Child.
(_The_ KING _rises from his prayer and goes sadly to the right,
standing near the lady in red._)
WOMAN. (_In a low ringing voice that thrills like the call of a
trumpet_) Go up, my son,--fear not--The Christ-Child waits for all!
(HOLGER _breathless with the adventure rises and goes timidly
forward out of the gloom of the hut into the splendor of the
chancel, looking very small and poorly dressed beside all the great
ones. He holds out his pennies to the_ PRIEST _who bends and takes
them with a tender little smile, and_ HOLGER, _crossing himself, too
abashed to stand and wait, shrinks back into the darkness and the
sheltering arms of the Woman._)
(_The_ PRIEST _goes up the steps of the altar and holds the pennies
high above his head in consecrating gesture, and as he does so, the
organ music breaks off with an amazed suddenness for from above
there comes the far triumphant ringing of the chimes, mingled with
ethereal voices singing The Alleluia._)
(_A wave of awe sweeps over everyone in the chancel and as the_
PRIEST _wheels and gestures them to their knees, they prostrate
themselves quickly._ HOLGER, _too, kneels awe-struck but the woman
rises to her full height and stands watching. From this time on, she
withdraws gradually into the deeper shadows of the hut and is seen
no more._)
(_As they all kneel the Angel enters from the right, ascends the
steps of the altar and stands beside the huddled figure of the_
PRIEST. _As she stands there, a single pencil of light shines down
upon her from above, a ray of light so brilliant that everything
around seems dull in comparision, and while she gives her message,
the light above grows till it floods her hair and garments with a
miraculous radiance. The_ ANGEL _smiles at_ HOLGER _and chants in a
lovely voice._)
ANGEL. Verily, verily, I say unto you, it is not gold nor silver nor
rich pearls but love and selfsacrifice that please the Lord. The
Christ-Child was hungered and you gave him meat,--a stranger and you
took Him in.
HOLGER. (_In an awed tone_) But I--I have not seen the Christ-Child.
ANGEL. Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these His
Brethern, you have done it unto Him! (_The_ ANGEL _stands with one hand
uplifted, as the music rises in a great crescendo of triumph_. HOLGER,
_quite overcome, drops his face in his hands and as the climax of the
singing is reached, the whole tableau is held for a moment, then blotted
out in darkness_.)
(_There is a pause, then the light on the hearth flares up revealing
the boy alone, still on his knees, looking up bewildered at the back
wall of the hut, where the vision had been. Swiftly he rises to his
feet and turns to face the Woman._)
HOLGER. Dame,--dame!--The Chimes,--the star--did you see? (_She is gone,
he stares about him looking for her_) Gone! Gone! (_The music still
rings softly_) But the Chimes! (_He turns, runs to the window, and
flings open the casement. A soft light, half moonlight, half something
more luminous pours in upon him. He speaks in a tone of infinite
happiness, looking upward_) The stars!--God's Chimes!