The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 19

_Coq._ You care for that?

_Fam._ You risk Your soul, perhaps,----

_Coq._ 'Tis certain. Pray for me, Chiquita.

_Fam._ When?

_Coq._ To-morrow I must leave The Gringo in the marshes.

_Fam._ Oh, 'twas that!

And paid with curses----

_Lis._ [_Calls, as a new batch of men come in_]

Come, Famette! Here's work!

_Fam._ We'll talk again. [_Hurries to Lissa_]

_A man._ The beans are cold.

_Another._ Soured too!

Gray Moses, here's a life!

_Mas._ Do you complain, O, comrades? Now your hour is come? The pearl O' the long ungarnished day? The holy hour Of--beans? Why, think! What do we live for, men?

For sweaty moments battling 'gainst the sun To strip the th.o.r.n.y hennequin? For nights Of bitten sleep in unwashed pens? Not so.

Lift up your cups! Here is the crown of toil!

Each day we reach our life's supremest dome, And know we're there! Can man ask more? Even kings, Though the gold frontal of munificence Is bowed before them, yet must fretting guess The morrow's store. But we, my friends, we know!

Then let each separate and distinct legume, Dear as the Egyptian treasure lost in wine, Delay as preciously----

_Coq._ [_Cutting him across shoulders_]

Come down from that!

There's more for you, my friend, i' the lower yard.

I'll tie you up.

_Fam._ O, Coquriez, let him go.

_You_ should not care. His tongue was born with him, And G.o.d may mend it. Let the fool alone.

_Coq._ Hmm, if you ask me----

_Fam._ Thank you, Coquriez.

I'll stand for him he'll not offend again.

_Mas._ My tongue is glue. 'Twill stick to its place.

_A man._ Fis.h.!.+ fis.h.!.+

_Another._ He's had his share.

_The man._ Not half a cup!

O, Jesu, I am starved. I did my stint, And helped the boy, Famette. Can I do that On half a cup?

_Fam._ No, Berto, here is more.

_Yso._ The Gringo does not eat.

_Fam._ I'll take him this.

[_Fills cup from bowl of beans and goes to Chartrien, who is still seated on the step, listless and observing nothing_]

_Fam._ Senor?

_Cha._ Who spoke? O, you, Famette? No, thanks.

I can not eat. [_Turns from her_] That's twice I've heard the voice Of Hernda. Madness creeps, but surely comes.

_Fam._ [_Over his shoulder_] You must escape to-night.

_Cha._ [_Facing her_] Escape? To-night?

_Fam._ Here, hold the cup, and eat. Do, sir! We're watched.

To-morrow Coquriez leads you to the woods, Comes back alone----

_Cha._ At last I know my hour.

_Fam._ But you shall live. Last night I worked till day At that locked gate. 'Tis open. None suspects.

Outside there's water in a flask, and bread,-- Beneath the cactus at the left----

_Cha._ But how Get out? I am locked in at night, and watched At other hours.

_Fam._ Eat, eat, and listen, Senor!

To-night a flogging in the lower yard Will empty this. You'll go with Coquriez.

Urge him to bring you back. Say you are ill,-- For that you are,--and come. Here I shall hide, And as you pa.s.s, will suddenly step out And speak to Coquriez. You fall behind, In shadow of my hut, move round it, wait This side, then see what's next to do.

_A man._ [_Calling_] Famette?

Where is Famette? She doesn't count the beans.

[_Famette goes back to the men_]

_Cha._ It is a lure. If I attempt escape, Then Coquriez shoots me dead, his soul just clear Of murder.

_Coq._ [_To Famette_] Our Gringo's learned to eat, I see.

_Cha._ Now do they change confederate nods, and gaze Their mated thoughts. Down, down to dust, my heart!

The struggle's off. I'll fight no more. Yon stars Have rest for me. Is 't so? Vain footing there.

What rest have they, that share with man the surge From life to life? There Jupiters unfound Whirl cooling till their straining sides may bear Ocean and land and clinging bride of green; And Saturns, nameless yet, cast travailing Their ringed refulgence. Not the frozen moons May fix in stillness, but sweep captive back To flaming centres when their planets call.

There old, dead suns, that think their work is done, Meet cras.h.i.+ng, ground to cloudy fire whose worlds, Far driven, traverse time and know men's days.

Ay, one may go beyond the ether's breath, Farthest of all, to be another First, Undreaming this our G.o.d. And I must s.h.i.+ft Eternal and unresting as those suns.

Then let Death hasten. He shall be as one Who timely strips a wrestler of his cloak, And, kindly freed, I shall unc.u.mbered leap To other battle, finding armor where I find my cause.

_A man._ [_To Famette_] My turn. Here, give me that.