ACT III
Time: Christmas morning.
Scene: The Convent chapel, decorated with Christmas greens, candles, etc. A picture of the Madonna and Child wreathed in green. On a daïs (back Center), in the Abbot's chair, dressed in white with a wreath on her head, is seated little Rosalia. She sings a simple little Christmas hymn. Enter Peter, with an air of secrecy, sitting down at Rosalia's feet.
Peter. Oh, sister, I feel so miserable!
Rosalia. Why, Peter? I think it is just beautiful!
Peter. Oh, yes, of course it is beautiful, and that's the very worst part of it. I mean, you know, that just because it is so beautiful, and the good Fathers are so very dreadfully kind, that I feel worse than ever. Oh, dear! I'm not saying what I mean a bit, sister, but, you see, I hate not to tell the Fathers the truth about you, and on Christmas day, too. You know they think that you are a live doll, and a miracle, and you're no such thing. You're just Peter's little sister, aren't you, pet? And they have been so kind, and Father Ambrose has made your poor little ankle so nice and well—— So it makes me feel horrid to think we're deceiving them. Why, it's 'most as bad as telling a story.
Rosalia [patting Peter's shoulder]. Poor Peter, I'm so sorry!
Peter. What shall we do about it, sister?
Rosalia. Why, Peter, I'll tell them. They're all so kind, I don't think they will be cross.
Peter. Well, sister, I don't believe they will, either. And it's Christmas day, so I want to be sure to do what is right. And this is right—I am sure of that. Now I must run away; they'll be coming soon. [Exit Peter. Sound of Monks singing in the distance grows louder and louder. Enter Monks, Abbot leading, each bearing a tray full of toys for Rosalia. Half the Monks march to the right, half to the left of her chair. Monks hold out their presents to her.]
Rosalia. Please, I'm not a miracle. I'm only Peter's little sister!
Felix, Ambrose, and Sebastian. Peter!
Anselm, Hilarion, and Gregory. Peter's little sister!
Abbot. Peter? The Peter who works in our garden?
[Enter Peter, standing unnoticed by door.
Rosalia. Yes, Peter's little sister.
[Monks turn, each looking in the eyes of the
one nearest.
Gregory. Surely, here's an opportunity for a whole convent full of Monks to look foolish.
Anselm. Filing up in procession——
Ambrose. With our hands full of gifts——
Sebastian. To offer them to a miracle——
Felix. And then to find out that this miracle——
Hilarion. This famous miracle is nothing but Peter's little sister! [Hilarion doubles up with laughter, but controls himself as the Abbot lifts his hand for order.]
Abbot. My children, harken to me. Haven't I always maintained that there are two ways of looking at anything? If an object is not what we wish it to be in one light, let us see if there is not some other light under which it will surely meet our views. This dear little girl is a little girl and not a doll, that is true. She did not come up in the place of the wax doll, and she is not a miracle in that light. But look at her in another light, and surely she is a miracle—do you not see? Look at her, the darling little girl, isn't the very meaning and sweetness of all Christmas in her loving, trusting, innocent little face?
Monks. Yes, yes, she is a miracle, a miracle, indeed!
[Monks come forward and lay the toys at
her feet. Peter fairly hugs himself with joy.
Abbot. And, Peter? Where is Peter?
Peter [coming forward]. Here I am, sir.
Abbot. Peter, we feel so happy this beautiful Christmas Day, that we must find some expression for our joy—we must surely find a way to share such happiness with others. Run, my son, open the Convent gates, and bid all the village people who wait there for our usual gifts to enter and take part in our pleasure. [Exit Peter in haste.] Think, my children, what a gift we have here for the poor parents of Peter and little Rosalia—this dear little girl will be restored to them, not lame, as she was when she wandered here, but well and strong and happy like other little ones. Think of it, my children.
[Enter Peter, leading his father and mother,
who hasten to Rosalia, kneeling one on
each side of her great chair. The rest of
the villagers of Act I press in, and stand
grouped at each side of the stage.
Abbot. Welcome, welcome, my good people! A Merry Christmas to you all!
Villagers. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
[Amid the tumult enter the two Pages. They
advance to the Abbot, and bowing, present
a letter with large seals.
Abbot. How, now! What's this? [Breaking seal and reading letter, the Monks showing deep interest.] My children, we have here a message from His Majesty, the King. He tells us that his son, the Prince, reached his palace in safety, and that he has come to feel great regret for all the trouble and anxiety he caused the Christmas Monks. He hopes that the Prince's repentance, though late, will help to season our Christmas and make it a happy one. And his Majesty adds that he finds great improvement in his son. Well! Well! this does indeed add yet another happiness to our day. [To the people.] And I know you all, little and big, are just as happy as we are, for at last the gates are open to the Convent of the Christmas Monks.
[All sing a Christmas carol.
CURTAIN