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Page 3
_The Boy's Dream of His Mother_. (_Seems to speak_.) My very
dearest--no. It takes this great burnt-offering to free the world. The
world will be free. This is the crisis of humanity; you are bending the
lever that lifts the race. Be glad, dearest life of the world, to be
part of that glory. Think back to your school-days, to a sentence you
learned. Lincoln spoke it. "These dead shall not have died in vain, and
government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not
perish from the earth."
_The Boy_. (_Whispers_.) I remember. It's good. "Shall not have died in
vain"--"The people--shall not perish"--where's your hand, mother? It's
taps for me. The lights are going out. Come with me--mother. (_Dies_.)
SECOND ACT
_The scene it the same trench one hundred years later, in the year 2018.
It is ten o'clock of a summer morning. Two French children have come to
the trench to pick flowers. The little girl of seven is gentle and
soft-hearted; her older brother is a man of nearly ten years, and feels
his patriotism and his responsibilities_.
_Ang�lique_. (_The little French girl_.) Here's where they grow,
Jean-B'tiste.
_Jean-Baptiste_. (_The little French boy_.) I know. They bloom bigger
blooms in the American ditch.
_Ang�lique_. (_Climbs into the ditch and picks flowers busily_.) Why do
people call it the 'Merican ditch, Jean-B'tiste? What's 'Merican?
_Jean-Baptiste_. (_Ripples laughter_.) One's little sister doesn't know
much! Never mind. One is so young--three years younger than I am. I'm
ten, you know.
_Ang�lique. Tiens_, Jean-B'tiste. Not ten till next month.
Jean-Baptiste. Oh, but--but--next month!
_Ang�lique_. What's 'Merican?
_Jean-Baptiste_. Droll _p'tite_. Why, everybody in all France knows that
name. Of American.
_Ang�lique_. (_Unashamed_.) Do they? What is it?
_Jean-Baptiste_. It's the people that live in the so large country
across the ocean. They came over and saved all our lives, and France.
_Ang�lique_. (_Surprised_.) Did they save my life, Jean-B'tiste?
_Jean-Baptiste_. Little _dr�le_. You weren't born.
_Ang�lique_. Oh! Whose life did they then save? Maman's?
_Jean-Baptiste_. But no. She was not born either.
_Ang�lique_. Whose life, then--the grandfather's?
_Jean-Baptiste_. But--even he was not born. (_Disconcerted by
Ang�lique's direct tactics_.) One sees they could not save the lives of
people who were not here. But--they were brave--but yes--and friends to
France. And they came across the ocean to fight for France. Big, strong
young soldiers in brown uniforms--the grandfather told me about it
yesterday. I know it all. His father told him, and he was here. In this
field. (_Jean-Baptiste looks about the meadow, where the wind blows
flowers and wheat._) There was a large battle--a fight very immense. It
was not like this then. It was digged over with ditches and the soldiers
stood in the ditches and shot at the wicked Germans in the other
ditches. Lots and lots of soldiers died.
_Ang�lique_. (_Lips trembling_.) Died--in ditches?
_Jean-Baptiste_. (_Grimly._) Yes, it is true.
_Ang�lique_. (_Breaks into sobs._) I can't bear you to tell me that. I
can't bear the soldiers to--die--in ditches.
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