You know so many strange and evil things
Have happened lately. Just a week ago
Old mother Sar was palsied. Then young Foy,
In the dead of night, saw witch-fire on the heath.
Next day two cows, their udders drizzling blood,
Ran snorting down the road into the wood,
And all the village curs that ventured out
Came yelping to their kennels cramped with fear
As though the devils chased them.

Madam Valmy— Did you ever!

Madam Bacqueur— (To Hugh Capet who hurries out, left.)
You will come back and tell us what it is?

Hugh Capet—That all depends, Madam, that all depends.

Madam Bacqueur—Indeed they did. And that's not all. Thursday
A black stone fell from heaven. Father said
It was a challenge. And that very night
Occurred a wonder during complines. Yes,
The golden chalices in the church took fire
And circled round the altar. Blood appeared
On Father's hands, and while all sat amazed,
Looking to see him caught away to heaven,
A snow-white dove flew through the trancept wall,
The Holy Spirit, Father says. You know
The canvass that they keep covering the cross
That Oswald carves, round that it whisked and moaned,
And Rachel says she heard the voice of Christ
Under the canvass: "It will not be done."
Meaning the cross, I thought; but Father says:
"Maybe it means God's will will not be done,"
And so it proved. Disaster came at dawn.
Pierre, the sacristan of good St. Giles,
Brought the news down to Father Benedict.
But you have heard of the great miracle? No?
And all the world has heard of it?

Madam Valmy— You know
I have not been to town since Sunday week.

Madam Bacqueur—Oh, angels have fluttered down on us since then!
And will again, so Father says. La me!
I tell you, Madam Valmy, if any grave
In the churchyard there had jumped a horrid ghost
To stalk the moonlight in a rotten shroud,
There'd be less stir among the village folk.
I know not how it was. It seems they found
The dear monk, Oswald, bruised and bathed with blood,

(She clasps her child to her heart passionately.)

Lying before the monastery gate.

Madam Valmy—Why, Clotilde!