RHODA.
The papers said--
MICHAELIS.
When the crowd began to gather, I--went away.
RHODA.
Why?
MICHAELIS.
My time had not come.
_He has stopped before the map and stands gazing at it._
RHODA.
Has it come now?
_She comes closer._
--Has your time come now?
MICHAELIS.
Yes.
RHODA.
How do you know?
MICHAELIS.
_Points at the map._
It is written there!
RHODA.
How do you mean, written there?
MICHAELIS.
Can"t you see it?
RHODA.
I see the map, nothing more.
MICHAELIS.
_Points again, gazing fixedly._
It seems to me to be written in fire.
RHODA.
What seems written?
MICHAELIS.
What I have been doing, all these five years.
RHODA.
Since your work began?
MICHAELIS.
It has never begun. Many times I have thought, "Now," and some man or woman has risen up healed, and looked at me with eyes of prophecy. But a Voice would cry, "On, on!" and I would go forward, driven by a force and a will not my own.--I didn"t know what it all meant, but I know now.
_He points at the map, his manner transformed with excitement and exaltation._
It is written there. It is written in letters of fire. My eyes are opened, and I see!
RHODA.
_Following his gaze, then looking at him again, awed and bewildered._
What is it that you see?
MICHAELIS.
The cross!
RHODA.
I--I don"t understand.
MICHAELIS.
All those places where the hand was lifted for a moment, and the power flowed into me--
_He places his finger at various points on the map; these points lie in two transverse lines, between the Mississippi and the Pacific; one line runs roughly north and south, the other east and west._
Look! There was such a place, and there another, and there, and there.
And there was one, and there, and there.--Do you see?