Oswald— (Excitedly.)
Stay, men! Lay no rough hands upon the boy.
(The line halts. The monk puts his palm to his breast and coughs.)
Jardin—No rough hands on—?
Oswald— The boy has done no harm.
The night I fell—
A Man— Here's Father Benedict.
(They wait in silence.)
Father Benedict—Ah, brother Oswald! (He comes riding in, left. The women bow reverently; the men bare their heads.) Benedicite.
You see my children gathered here about,
How glad they are to see you.
Oswald— And I, Father,
To be at work once more.
Father Benedict— Praise the Virgin. (Dismounting.)
You show a Christian spirit coming thus,
Bruised as you are, to do the Master's work.
Oswald—I promised it should be done to-morrow.