Page:Representative American plays.pdf/834
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY
817
Rhoda. Yet tell me. I need to know. Believe me, I need to know!
Michaelis. (Slowly, groping for his words.) It was one morning in the fourth spring. We were back in the mountains again. It was lambing time, and I had been up all night. Just before sunrise, I sat down on a rock to rest. Then—it came.
Rhoda. What came? (He does not answer.) You saw something? (He nods for yes.) What was it?
Michaelis. (Rises, lifting his arms, a prey to uncontrollable excitement.) The living Christ!—Standing before me on the mountain, amid the grazing sheep.—With these eyes and in this flesh, I saw Him.
(Long pause.)
Rhoda. (In a low tone.) You had fallen asleep. It was a dream.
Michaelis. (Shakes his head in negation.) That was n't all.
(He turns away. She follows him, and speaks after a silence.)
Rhoda. Tell me the rest. What happened to you, after—after what you saw—that morning in the mountains?
Michaelis. (Begins to talk slowly and reluctantly.) I lived straight ahead, with the sheep for two years.
Rhoda. (Hesitating.) Did you ever see anything again?
Michaelis. No.—But twice—I heard a voice.
Rhoda. What kind of a voice?
Michaelis. The first time it came at night. I was walking on the top of the mountain, in a stony place. It—it was like a wind among the stones.
Rhoda. What did it say?
Michaelis. It said, "Prepare! Prepare!"
Rhoda. And the second time?
Michaelis. In the same place, at dawn. The voice said, "Go forth, it is finished!" I looked round me and saw nothing. Then it came again, like a wind among the stones, "Go forth, it is begun!"
Rhoda. And you obeyed?
Michaelis. I found a man to take my place, and started north. Three days after, I climbed the mesa toward my old home. Above, in the pueblo, I heard the sound of tom-toms and wailing squaws. They told me that the young son of the chief lay dead in my father's chapel. I sat beside him all day and all night. Just before daylight—
(He breaks off abruptly.)
Rhoda. Go on!
Michaelis. Just before daylight, when the other watchers were asleep, the power of the spirit came strong upon me. I bowed myself upon the boy's body, and prayed. My heart burned within me, for I felt his heart begin to beat! His eyes opened. I told him to arise, and he arose. He that was dead arose and was alive again!
(Pause. Mrs. Beeler's bell rings. Michaelis starts, looks about him as if awakened from a dream, then slowly goes toward the hall door. Rhoda follows and detains him.)
Rhoda. (In a low tone.) How long had he lain—for dead?
Michaelis. Three days.
Rhoda. (With hesitation.) I have heard that people have lain as long as that in a trance, breathing so lightly that it could not be told, except by holding a glass before the face.
Michaelis. (Startled.) Is that true?
Rhoda. I have read so.
Michaelis. I wonder—I wonder. (He stands in deep thought.) But I have had other signs.
Rhoda. What other signs?
Michaelis. Many, many. Up and down the land! (Pause.) I wonder.—I—I almost wish it were so!
(With bent head he goes out. Rhoda stands looking after him until the inner door closes, then sits before the fire in revery. Beeler comes in from the barn. He wears his old fur cap, and holds in one hand a bulky Sunday newspaper, in the other some battered harness, an awl, twine, and wax, which he deposits on the window seat. He lays the paper on the table, and unfolds from it a large colored print, which he holds up and looks at with relish.)
Beeler. These Sunday papers do get up fine supplements. I would n't take money for that picture.
Rhoda. (Looks at it absently.) What does it mean?
Beeler. (Reads.) "Pan and the Pilgrim." Guess you never heard of Pan, did you?
Rhoda. Yes. One of the old heathen gods.
Beeler. Call him heathen if you like! The folks that worshipped him thought he was orthodox, I guess.
(He pins up the print, which repre-