ABBOT--But who will save us from our policy, From playing hide and seek with God's bright son, From the necessity of withholding truth From those to whom the vital thing belongs, Who do not even hunger for it more, Who live and die about a taper's flame, Calling it star, and sun, salvation, God-- And here all round us--Louis, look, the dawn!
LOUIS--The quality of all light is the same.
ABBOT--Quality, Louis, is not quantity. The myriad spheres of dew leave the fields dark. The midnight luster on the swamp is light, Enough to guide the wild thing paddling there. The willow leaves give light unto the moth. The stars that fill us with the life to come Leave darkness in the prowling tiger's eye, And rise and set upon its curve of ball. God made the day for higher things than these. Some light is not enough for something more Than moth and water-rat and prowling maws That find their food in flesh. With what design Lit God the radiant pages? For what purpose Hung he the planet Plato in the sky With kindred constellations of pure thought, If I, a mortal man, can lift my hand And leave a shadow in the valley there? It fills my life with meaning to know this, That God hath ordered so our spiritual world That every bright thing needs my will to shine, As it needs His to reach the shining state. Think of such confidence of God in man! And I betray it. (He walks about thoughtfully.)
LOUIS-- You betray it? How? By holding back the truth about the dwarf?
LOUIS-- You hide it as a seed Which, if the people eat, the famine spreads, But which, if planted, wide the harvest waves. Your own heart tells you you are right in this.
ABBOT--But when, when is the feeding to begin? If I to-day withhold the seed, who knows That I will not to-morrow withhold the yield, And so continue, building larger barns? Meanwhile the people in the valley die.
LOUIS--But God, who sees your purpose in it all, Sees the day coming when this rock shall be A beacon, and this region full of light.
ABBOT--'Twill never be while Benedict is here.
LOUIS--Oh, but look yonder, Father! Three hours ago Black clouds besieged the east, and lo, now Day Stands on the mountain tops and sees them not. Where Night has gone there's room for Benedict.