Father John. And the grapes ... what did they mean?... It puts me in mind of the psalm ... Ex calix meus inebrians quam praeclarus est. It was a strange vision, a very strange vision, a very strange vision.
Martin. How can I get back to that place?
Father John. You must not go back, you must not think of doing that; that life of vision, of contemplation, is a terrible life, for it has far more of temptation in it than the common life. Perhaps it would have been best for you to stay under rules in the monastery.
Martin. I could not see anything so clearly there. It is back here in my own place the visions come, in the place where shining people used to laugh around me and I a little lad in a bib.
Father John. You cannot know but it was from the Prince of this world the vision came. How can one ever know unless one follows the discipline of the church? Some spiritual director, some wise, learned man, that is what you want. I do not know enough. What am I but a poor banished priest with my learning forgotten, my books never handled, and spotted with the damp?
Martin. I will go out into the fields where you cannot come to me to awake me ... I will see that townland again ... I will hear that command. I cannot wait, I must know what happened, I must bring that command to mind again.
Father John [putting himself between Martin and the door]. You must have patience as the saints had it. You are taking your own way. If there is a command from God for you, you must wait His good time to receive it.
Martin. Must I live here forty years, fifty years ... to grow as old as my uncles, seeing nothing but common things, doing work ... some foolish work?
Father John. Here they are coming. It is time for me to go. I must think and I must pray. My mind is troubled about you. [To Thomas as he and Andrew come in.] Here he is; be very kind to him, for he has still the weakness of a little child.
[Goes out.]