I will forgive
The bitter words. The lost shall be reclaimed.
(He walks briskly back and climbs the steps and enters the church. A man with a shovel on his shoulder appears coming from back in the churchyard. He stops by the fence and looks about.)
The Man—Don't see them.
A Voice— (From back in the churchyard.)
Someone's moaning in the church.
(Another man appears with a shovel. They listen. Faint shouting, left.)
First Man—Let's leave our shovels here.
(They put down their shovels and get over the low fence into the open space before the church and start, left. Pierre is heard returning.)
Pierre—But it was not his fault.
(Between the two men he enters wringing his hands.)
It was the fiends that did it.
'Twas his hand but— (Starting back.)
They're hiding—they're hiding back of there!