There were a few men on the ranges, but they were no more to me than the sheep--not so much.
RHODA.
Weren"t you dreadfully lonely?
MICHAELIS.
No.
RHODA.
You hadn"t even any books to read?
MICHAELIS.
_Takes a took from his coat pocket._
I had this pocket Bible, that had been my father"s. I read that sometimes. But always in a dream, without understanding, without remembering.
_His excitement increases._
Yet there came a time when whole chapters started up in my mind, as plain as if the printed page were before me, and I understood it all, both the outer meaning and the inner.
RHODA.
And you didn"t know what made the difference?
MICHAELIS.
Yes.
RHODA.
What was it?
MICHAELIS.
I can"t tell you that.
RHODA.
Oh, yes!
MICHAELIS.
There are no words to tell of it.
RHODA.
Yet tell me. I need to know. Believe me, I need to know!
MICHAELIS.
_Slowly, groping for his words._
It was one morning in the fourth spring. We were back in the mountains again. It was lambing time, and I had been up all night. Just before sunrise, I sat down on a rock to rest. Then--it came.
RHODA.
What came?
_He does not answer._
You saw something?
_He nods for yes._
What was it?
MICHAELIS.
_Rises, lifting his arms, a prey to uncontrollable excitement._
The living Christ!--Standing before me on the mountain, amid the grazing sheep.--With these eyes and in this flesh, I saw Him.
_Long pause._
RHODA.
_In a low tone._
You had fallen asleep. It was a dream.
MICHAELIS.
_Shakes his head in negation._
That wasn"t all.
_He turns away. She follows him, and speaks after a silence._
RHODA.
Tell me the rest. What happened to you, after--after what you saw--that morning in the mountains?
MICHAELIS.
_Begins to talk slowly and reluctantly._