Little plays of StFrancis; a dramatic cycle from the life and legend of StFrancis of Assisi . ntris tui, Jesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, orapro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortisnostrae. . Amen. [They rise and stand watching, while francis puts wood on the fire, and covers sister glare with a cloak. FRANCIS. Let us go to bed. Brothers, for it is late. You, Brother Fire, shall sit up with her ; and you, Sister Cloak,, shall keep her warm. Good-night, little Sister ; sleep well ! JUNIPER. Father, you tempt me to think there sno such thing in the world as a temptation !155 LITTLE PLAYS OF
Little plays of StFrancis; a dramatic cycle from the life and legend of StFrancis of Assisi . ntris tui, Jesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, orapro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortisnostrae. . Amen. [They rise and stand watching, while francis puts wood on the fire, and covers sister glare with a cloak. FRANCIS. Let us go to bed. Brothers, for it is late. You, Brother Fire, shall sit up with her ; and you, Sister Cloak,, shall keep her warm. Good-night, little Sister ; sleep well ! JUNIPER. Father, you tempt me to think there sno such thing in the world as a temptation !155 LITTLE PLAYS OF ST. FRANCIS FRANCIS. Tis a good thought, Brother : play onit, and some day it may come true. JUNIPER. Oh : if only Father Adam could havethought that ! FRANCIS. What then. Brother ?JUNIPER. Then the Tree wouldnt have temptedhim. YRANCis [happy to be so instructed]. No! . .no!That is true, Brothers. Juniper is quite Little Father, he always is ! [And with this good thought in their hearts, oneby one they steal quietly up to bed, francisgoing last. CURTAIN 156 THE LEPERS. It is evening; and the hloomof twilight, which has begun topervade the den-like enclosure,gives it almost a touch ojbeauty. But wherever the eyeprobes the obscurity, it findssqualor and wretchedness:only where the ruinous wallends against the glow of anevening sky is there anyglimpse of loveliness fro7n thefree world lying beyond. Inthis well of misery the Lepers have their home. Dying men liehutched in tomb-like recesses of the wall, from which occasionallyemerge feebly gesticulatory hands or skull-like heads. About the enclosure other figures, hooded for death, move listlesslyor sit sunk in dejection. One gnaws a bone; another patches anold shoe; another, half-blind, sits apart from the rest biting hisfists. From a cistern near the gate one dips and carries water ina cracked pitcher which leaks as he goes. As he passes, feeblehands reach out from the tombs, and faint voices cry for water;paying n
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, booksubjectfrancisofassisisaint
