+Characters+ (Taken from Millet’s paintings).
_The Man with the Hoe_ _L’Homme à la Houe_
_A Mother and Child_ _La Sortie_
_Two Washerwomen_ _Les Lavandières_
_A Youth_ _Le Semeur_
_A Husband and Wife_ _L’Angelus du Soir_
_The_ +Voice of Millet+ _heard in a snatch of song._
_The frame must be proportioned, the scene prepared, for the final
tableau, The Angelus. At one moment or another each picture is
presented, the characters not belonging to it dropping naturally
to right and left, as if passing and repassing in a field. The
dialogue is accompanied by a simple, natural action except when
a picture-attitude is being held, when a natural pause must
be achieved. Before the curtains are drawn a horn is heard in
the distance, and the tinkling of cowbells. Then silence. The
curtains drawn disclose the field of L’Angelus du Soir, but with
the solitary figure of_ +The Man with the Hoe+, _L’Homme à la
Houe, occupying the stage. He remains immobile for an appreciable
time, till the picture shall have been recognized and the spirit
of the scene imposed. Then the_ +Mother+ _carrying her child, La
Sortie, appears at the right. The_ +Mother+ _stands, watching
the_ +Man+, _for a short space, then speaks._
+The Mother.+
A sou for your thoughts!
+The Man.+
[_Turns as if wakened from sleep._]
Eh? My thoughts?
[_Laughs._]
That’s a joke!
Now and then when my back is a-weary I pause,
Draw a breath, wipe the sweat off!
[_Suits the action to the word._]
But, thoughts...!
Are you troubled with such?
+The Woman.+
[_Advancing._]
I don’t know! As a girl
I read fairy-tales; dreamed as I dusted and span
Or helped in the field!
[_Laughter is heard. From the left come the two_ +Washerwomen+
_with their baskets. They halt, seeing the others._]
+The Older Washerwoman.+
On my word! One would think ’twas a funeral, feast,
That you’re stopping to chatter!
+The Man.+
[_Indicating the_ +Mother+ _with a jerk of his head._]
She’s telling her dreams!
+The Younger Washerwoman.+
[_With curiosity._]
Has she dreams?
[_From the right comes the_ +Youth+, _whistling. He also pauses._]
+The Mother.+
[_Apologetically, disclaiming the notion of indulging in dreams._]
Oh, not nowadays! Now I’m too old!
I’m turned twenty! But, oh! as a girl how I looked
For a prince to come wooing, and clothe me in silk;
Jewels fine as the crown on our Lady! A coach,
Horses white as your linen, to carry me off
To a castle with servants to wait on me!... Well,
I must go get my good man his supper. All day
He’s been carting manure!
[_Moves as if to go._]
+The Younger Washerwoman.+
Ha, ha, ha! And those dreams?
+The Mother.+
I pass on
To my baby!
[_She talks to the infant. From the left enter the_ +Husband+
_and_ +Wife+, _with pitchfork and wheelbarrow, gathering
potatoes._]
+The Wife.+
Well, well! How she grows! Healthy, too!
+The Mother.+