(Bacqueur enters with an armful of swords and spears. On his left shoulder hangs a great shield.)
Jacques Sar—Here's two men have none.
Cries— Here, Jules!
Hand me one!
Father Benedict—
(Half to himself, his face upturned to the sky.)
What have I done that Thou shouldst honor me
With glory such as no man ever—Nay,
'Tis not for me this glory is prepared,
For I have ever labored for another.
Thou movest in her and she in me and I
Am but a cloud upon her gale and storm.
Let no man move a foot. I know my time.
You see me but you see not what I see.
God hath arranged to bring us face to face.
This is no combat between merely men.
All Heathendom gives chase in this big hound.
Our brother stands for all men lost to God.
And my hand is the hand of Christendom.
(Bacqueur offers him a sword.)
Nay, I have weapons that ye know not of.
(Looking off at the storm.)