Music, a fair woman.
Glamour, her seducer, wearing tinsel.
Trade, a harlot.
The Old Mother, a plain sibyl of the people.
Men, women and children of the fighting nations of Europe in national peasant costumes.
THE SCENE
The World Field, at harvest time and set of sun. On the right is The World Inn, and, in front of it, on the ground, a prostrate figure, clad in black and bound, Soul of Man. On the left, near the front, are trees and flowers, piles of fruit and vegetables, a wagon load of grain, and, in the foreground, a tangle of vines, in which lies Mars, fast asleep. On the steps of The World Inn sits The Old Mother watching the women of all nations who are sitting sewing, chatting and tending babies in the center. At the back a road winds across from left to right and young girls are walking up and down with arms around each other’s shoulders, singing and laughing. The melody (“The Happy Farmer”) dies away gradually and a church bell is heard—The Angelus. There is a religious silence lasting for a moment or two.
A WOMAN