(Looking after Pierre.)
On any man who would much rather see
A dear son lost than see me glorified.
Tell him to hide. The wind that curls these clouds
Is the same wind that blew last night. Does he
With black mouth cry to me my hand is red?
If it be, if he think so, you tell him to stand
On his wrecked gable and watch Benedict
Walk right straight up to God with this red hand
And take the crown and leave no finger marks.
(On tiptoe, Madam Valmy steals down the steps to recover the crucifix.)
As for his charge that I have done this deed,
Tell him it smells of Hell.—Go back in there!
(Madam Valmy goes back up the steps and the women withdraw from the door.)
Daunted shall I be by lying lips?
Shall Belial reign? Shall God call twice and thrice?
I will not leave my cup of glory stand
Untouched because the old snake cannot drink;
Because he, having wormwood on his lips,
Cries: "God boils in the wine upon the heights!"
I will drink it.
(Armed and with Jacques Sar at their head, the men enter silent, their faces showing disappointment. In the disorder in which they enter, there are traces of three lines into which they had been drawn up.)
Father Benedict— We will go, men.
(The men brighten up and become turbulent, and the three lines immediately reappear. The priest walks back toward the church.)
Pick up—