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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44829 ***
+
+    Transcriber's Note:
+
+    Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
+    possible.
+
+    Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
+
+
+
+
+RADA
+
+
+
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+
+ TALES OF THE MERMAID TAVERN
+ DRAKE
+ THE FOREST OF WILD THYME
+ FORTY SINGING SEAMEN
+ THE ENCHANTED ISLAND
+ THE WINE PRESS
+
+
+[Illustration: THE BAYONETS]
+
+
+
+
+                                 RADA
+
+                        A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE
+
+                                  BY
+
+                             ALFRED NOYES
+
+                  WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS AFTER GOYA
+
+                          METHUEN & CO. LTD.
+                         36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
+                                LONDON
+
+
+_First Published in 1915_
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+    Thou whose deep ways are in the sea,
+      Whose footsteps are not known,
+    To-night a world that turned from Thee
+      Is waiting--at Thy Throne.
+
+    The towering Babels that we raised
+      Where scoffing sophists brawl,
+    The little Antichrists we praised--
+      The night is on them all.
+
+    The fool hath said ... The fool hath said ...
+      And we, who deemed him wise,
+    We, who believed that Thou wast dead,
+      How should we seek Thine eyes?
+
+    How should we seek to Thee for power,
+      Who scorned Thee yesterday?
+    How should we kneel in this dread hour?
+      Lord, teach us how to pray.
+
+    Grant us the single heart once more
+      That mocks no sacred thing,
+    The Sword of Truth our fathers wore
+      When Thou wast Lord and King.
+
+    Let darkness unto darkness tell
+      Our deep unspoken prayer;
+    For, while our souls in darkness dwell,
+      We know that Thou art there.
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+ THE BAYONETS                    _Frontispiece_
+
+                                    FACING PAGE
+
+ OVER THE JAWS OF THE CROWD                  16
+
+ THE OLD DANCE OF CHARLATANS AND BEASTS      22
+
+ THE VAMPIRE                                 56
+
+_Reproduced from etchings by Goya_
+
+
+
+
+PRELUDE
+
+
+    Under which banner? It was night
+      Beyond all nights that ever were.
+    The Cross was broken. Blood-stained Might
+      Moved like a tiger from its lair,
+    And all that heaven had died to quell
+    Awoke, and mingled earth with hell.
+
+    For Europe, if it held a creed,
+      Held it thro' custom, not thro' faith.
+    Chaos returned in dream and deed,
+      Right was a legend--Love, a wraith;
+    And That from which the world began
+    Was less than even the best in man.
+
+    God in the image of a snake
+      Dethroned that dream, too fond, too blind,
+    The man-shaped God whose heart could break,
+      Live, die and triumph with mankind;
+    A Super-snake, a Juggernaut,
+    Dethroned the Highest of human thought.
+
+    Choose, England! For the eternal foe
+      Within thee, as without, grew strong,
+    By many a super-subtle blow
+      Blurring the lines of right and wrong
+    In Art and Thought, till nought seemed true
+    But that soul-slaughtering cry of _New!_
+
+    New wreckage of the shrines we made
+      Thro' centuries of forgotten tears....
+    We knew not where their hands had laid
+      Our Master. Twice a thousand years
+    Had dulled the uncapricious sun.
+    Manifold worlds obscured the One;
+
+    Obscured the reign of Law, our stay,
+      Our compass thro' the uncharted sea,
+    The one sure light, the one sure way,
+      The one firm base of Liberty;
+    The one firm road that men have trod
+    Thro' Chaos to the Throne of God.
+
+    _Choose ye!_ A hundred legions cried
+      Dishonour, or the instant sword!
+    Ye chose. Ye met that blood-stained tide,
+      A little kingdom kept its word;
+    And, dying, cried across the night,
+    _Hear us, O earth, we chose the Right._
+
+    Whose is the victory? Though ye stood
+      Alone against the unmeasured foe,
+    By all the tears, by all the blood,
+      That flowed, and have not ceased to flow,
+    By all the legions that ye hurled
+    Back thro' the thunder-shaken world;
+
+    By the old that have not where to rest,
+      By lands laid waste and hearths defiled,
+    By every lacerated breast,
+      And every mutilated child,
+    Whose is the victory? Answer, ye
+    Who, dying, smiled at tyranny:--
+
+    _Under the sky's triumphal arch
+      The glories of the dawn begin.
+    Our dead, our shadowy armies, march
+      E'en now, in silence, thro' Berlin--
+    Dumb shadows, tattered blood-stained ghosts,
+    But cast by what swift following hosts!_
+
+    And answer, England! _At thy side,
+      Thro' seas of blood, thro' mists of tears,
+    Thou that for Liberty hast died
+      And livest, to the end of years._
+    And answer, earth! Far off, I hear
+    The pæans of a happier sphere:--
+
+    _The trumpet blown at Marathon
+      Exulted over earth and sea;
+    But burning angel lips have blown
+      The trumpets of thy Liberty,
+    For who, beside thy dead, could deem
+    The faith, for which they died, a dream?_
+
+    _Earth has not been the same, since then.
+      Europe from thee received a soul,
+    Whence nations moved in law, like men,
+      As members of a mightier whole,
+    Till wars were ended...._ In that day,
+    So shall our children's children say.
+
+
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+
+ RADA, wife of the village doctor.
+
+ BETTINE, her daughter, aged twelve.
+
+ BRANDER  { German soldiers quartered in her house
+ TARRASCH { during the occupation of the village.
+
+ NANKO, an old, half-witted schoolmaster, living in the care of the
+   doctor. He has a delusion that it is always Christmas Eve.
+
+ German soldiers.
+
+
+
+
+RADA
+
+A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE
+
+
+ _The action takes place in a Belgian village, during the War of 1914.
+   The scene is a room in the doctor's house. On the right there is
+   a door opening to the street, a window with red curtains, and a
+   desk under the window. On the left there is a large cupboard with a
+   door on either side of it, one leading to a bedroom and the other
+   to the kitchen. At the back an open fire is burning brightly. Over
+   the fireplace there is a reproduction in colours of the Dresden
+   Madonna. The room is lit only by the firelight and two candles in
+   brass candlesticks, on a black oak table, at which the two soldiers
+   are seated, playing cards and drinking beer._
+
+ _RADA, a dark handsome woman, sits on a couch to the left of the fire,
+   with her head bowed in her hands, weeping._
+
+ _NANKO sits cross-legged on a rug before the fire, rubbing his hands,
+   snapping his fingers, and chuckling to himself._
+
+TARRASCH (_throwing down the cards_).
+
+Pish! You have all the luck. (_He turns to RADA_) Look here, my
+girl, where is the use of snivelling? We've been killing pigs all
+day and now we want to unbuckle a bit. You ought to think yourself
+infernally lucky to be alive at all, and I'm not sure that you will be
+so fortunate when the other boys come back. Wheedled them out of the
+house finely, didn't you? On a fine wildgoose chase, too. Hidden money!
+Refugees don't bury their money and leave the secret behind them.
+You've been whimpering ever since we two refused to believe you. What's
+your game, eh? I warn you there'll be hell to pay when they come back.
+
+RADA (_sobbing and burying her face_).
+
+God, be pitiful!
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+This is war, this is! And you can't expect war to be all swans and
+shining armour. No--nor smart uniforms either. Look at the mud my
+friend and I have already annexed from Belgium. Brander, you know it's
+a most astonishing fact; but I have remarked it several times. Those
+women whose eyes glitter at the sight of a spiked helmet are the first
+to be astonished by the realities of war. They expect the dead to jump
+up and kiss them and tell them it is all a game, as soon as the battle
+is ended. No, no, my dear; it's only in war that one sees how small is
+one's personal happiness in comparison with greater things. Isn't it?
+
+ (_He fills a glass and drinks. BRANDER lights a cigar._)
+
+NANKO.
+
+Exactly. In times of peace we forget those eternal silences. We value
+life too highly. We become domesticated. Why, I suppose in this
+magnificent war there have been so many women and children killed
+that they would fill the great Cloth Hall at Ypres; and, as for the
+young men, there have been so many slaughtered that their dead bodies
+would fill St. Peter's at Rome. Why, I suppose they would fill the
+three hundred abbeys of Flanders and all the cathedrals in the world
+chock-full from floor to belfry, wouldn't they? How Goya would have
+loved to paint them! Can't you see it?
+
+ (_He grows ecstatic over the idea._)
+
+    Tournai with its five clock-towers, Ghent, and Bruges,
+    Louvain and Antwerp, Rheims and Westminster,
+    Under the round white moon, on Christmas Eve,
+    With towers of frozen needlework, and spires
+    That point to God; but all their painted panes
+    Bursting with dreadful arms and gaping faces,
+    Gargoyles of flesh; and round them, in the snow,
+    The little cardinals, like gouts of blood,
+    The little bishops, running like white mice,
+    Hooded with violet spots, quite, quite dismayed
+    To find there was no room for them within
+    Upon that holy night when Christ was born.
+
+But perhaps if Goya were living to-day he would prefer to pack them
+into Chicago meat factories, with the intellectuals dancing outside
+like marionettes, and the unconscious Hand of God pulling the strings.
+You know one of their very latest theories is that He is a somnambulist.
+
+TARRASCH (_to RADA_).
+
+You should read Schopenhauer, my dear, and learn to estimate these
+emotions at their true value. You would then be able to laugh at these
+feelings which seem to you now so important. It is the mark of _Kultur_
+to be able to laugh at all sentiments. Isn't it?
+
+NANKO.
+
+The priests, I suppose, are still balancing themselves on the
+tight-rope, over the jaws of the crowd. The poor old Pope did his best
+for his Master, when the Emperor asked him for a blessing on the war.
+"_I_ bless Peace," said the Pope; but nobody listened. I composed a
+little poem about that. I called it St. Peter's Christmas. It went like
+this:--
+
+    And does the Cross of Christ still stand?
+      Yes, though His friends may watch from far--
+    And who is this at His right hand,
+      This Rock in the red surf of war?
+
+    This, this is he who once denied,
+      And turned and wept and turned again.
+    Last night before an Emperor's pride
+      He stood and blotted out that stain.
+
+    Last night an Emperor bared the sword
+      And bade him bless. He stood alone.
+    Alone in all the world, _his_ word
+      Confessed--and blessed--a loftier throne.
+
+    I hear, still travelling towards the Light,
+      In widening waves till Time shall cease,
+    The Power that breathed from Rome last night
+      His infinite whisper--_I bless Peace._
+
+ (_TARRASCH and BRANDER applaud ironically._)
+
+[Illustration: OVER THE JAWS OF THE CROWD]
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+Excellent! Excellent! (_To RADA_) You should have seen our brave
+soldiers laughing--do you remember, Brander--at a little village near
+Termonde. They made the old vicar and his cook dance naked round the
+dead body of his wife, who had connived at the escape of her daughter
+from a Prussian officer.
+
+NANKO.
+
+Ah, that was reality, wasn't it? None of your provincial respectability
+about that, none of your shallow conventionality! That's what the age
+wants--realism!
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+It was brutal, I confess; but better than British hypocrisy, eh? There
+was something great about it, like the neighing of the satyrs in the
+Venusberg music.
+
+RADA (_sinking on her knees by the couch and sobbing_).
+
+God! God!
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+They were beginning to find out the provincialism of their creeds in
+England. The pessimism of Schopenhauer had taught them much; and if it
+had not been for this last treachery, this last ridiculous outburst of
+the middle-class mind on behalf of what they call honour, we should
+have continued to tolerate (if not to enjoy), in Berlin, those plays by
+Irishmen which expose so wittily the inferior _Kultur_, the shrinking
+from reality, of their (for the most part) not intellectual people. I
+have the honour, madam, to request that you should no longer make this
+unpleasant sound of weeping. You irritate my nerves. Have you not two
+men quartered upon you instead of one? And are they not university
+students? If your husband and the rest of the villagers had not
+resisted our advance, they might have been alive, too. In any case,
+your change is for the better. Isn't it?
+
+ (_He lights a cigar._)
+
+NANKO.
+
+Exactly! Exactly! You remember, Rada, I used to be a schoolmaster
+myself in the old days; and if _you_ knew what _I_ know, you wouldn't
+cry, my dear. You'd understand that it's entirely a question of the
+survival of the fittest. A biological necessity, that's what it is. And
+Haeckel himself has told us that, though we may resign our hopes of
+immortality, and the grave is the only future for our beloved ones, yet
+there is infinite consolation to be found in examining a piece of moss
+or looking at a beetle. That's what the Germans call the male intellect.
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+Is this man attempting to be insolent?
+
+ (_He rises as if to strike_ NANKO.)
+
+BRANDER (_tapping his forehead_).
+
+Take no notice of him. He's only a resident patient. He was not calling
+you a beetle. He has delusions. He thinks it is always Christmas Eve.
+That's his little tree in the corner. As Goethe should have said--
+
+    There was a little Christian.
+    He had a little tree.
+    Up came a Superman
+    And cracked him, like a flea.
+
+TARRASCH (_laughing_).
+
+Very good! You should send that to the _Tageblatt_, Brander.
+
+Well, Rada, or whatever your name is, you'd better find something for
+us to eat. I'm sick of this whimpering.
+
+Wouldn't your Belgian swine have massacred us all, if we'd given them
+the chance? We've thousands of women and children at home snivelling
+and saying, "Oh! my God! Oh! my God!" just like you.
+
+RADA (_rising to her feet in a fury of contempt_).
+
+    Then why are you in Belgium, gentlemen?
+    Is it the husks and chaff that the swine eat,
+    Or is it simply butchery?
+
+ (_They stare at her in silence, over-mastered for a moment by her
+   passion. Then, her grief welling up again, she casts herself down on
+   the couch, and buries her face in her hands, sobbing._)
+
+    God! God! God!
+
+[Illustration: THE OLD DANCE OF CHARLATANS AND BEASTS]
+
+BRANDER.
+
+Don't you trouble about God. What can _He_ do when both sides go down
+on their marrow-bones? He can't make both sides win, can He?
+
+NANKO.
+
+That's how the intellectuals prove He doesn't exist. Either He is not
+almighty, they say, or else He is unjust enough not to make both sides
+win. But all those anthropomorphic conceptions are out of date now,
+even in England, as this gentleman very truly said. You see, it was so
+degrading, Rada, to think that God had anything in common with mankind
+(though love was once quite fashionable), and as we didn't know of
+anything higher than ourselves we were simply compelled to say that
+He resembled something lower, such as earthquakes, and tigers, and
+puppet-shows, and ideas of that sort. Reality above all things! You
+may see God in sunsets; but there was nothing _real_ about the _best_
+qualities of mankind. It's curious. The more intellectual and original
+you are, the lower you have to go, and the more likely you are to end
+in the old dance of charlatans and beasts. I suppose that's an argument
+for tradition and growth. If we call it Evolution, nobody will mind
+very much.
+
+RADA (_wringing her hands in an agony of grief_).
+
+Oh, God, be pitiful, be pitiful!
+
+BRANDER (_standing in front of her_).
+
+Look here, we've had enough of this music. I've been watching you, and
+there's more upon your mind than sorrow for the dead. Why were you so
+anxious to wheedle us all out of the house? Tarrasch has warned you
+there'll be hell to pay when the others come back. What was the game,
+eh? You'd better tell me. You couldn't have thought you were going to
+escape through our lines to-night.
+
+ (_There is a sudden uproar outside, and a woman's scream, followed by
+   the terrified cry of a child._)
+
+Ah! Ah! Father!
+
+BRANDER.
+
+Hear that. The men are mad with brandy and blood and--other things.
+There's no holding them in, even from the children. You needn't wince.
+Even from the children, I say. What chance would there be for a
+fine-looking wench like yourself?
+
+No, you were not going to try that. You've something to hide, here, in
+the house, eh? Well, now you've got rid of the others, and we've had a
+drink, we're going to look for it. What is there?
+
+ (_He points to the bedroom door._)
+
+RADA (_rising to her feet slowly, steadying herself with one hand on
+the couch and fixing her eyes on his face_).
+
+My bedroom. No. I've nothing here to hide. This is war, isn't it? If I
+choose to revenge myself on those that have used me badly, people that
+I hate, by telling you where you can find what everybody wants, money,
+money--I suppose you want that--isn't that good enough?
+
+BRANDER.
+
+Better come with us, then, and show us this treasure-trove.
+
+RADA (_shrinking back_).
+
+No, no, I dare not. All those dead out there would terrify me, terrify
+me!
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+A pack of lies! What were you up to, eh? Telephoning to the English?
+
+BRANDER.
+
+It has been too much for her nerves. Don't worry her, or she'll go
+mad. Then there'll be nobody left to get us our supper.
+
+ (_TARRASCH wanders round the room, opening drawers and examining
+   letters and other contents at the desk._)
+
+NANKO.
+
+That _would_ be selfish, Rada. You know it's Christmas Eve. Nobody
+ought to think of unpleasant things on Christmas Eve. What have you
+done with the Christmas-tree, Rada?
+
+BRANDER.
+
+And who's to blame? That's what I want to know. You don't blame _us_,
+do you? We didn't know where we were marching a month ago; and
+possibly we shall be fighting on your side against somebody else, a
+year hence.
+
+NANKO.
+
+Of course they didn't know! Poor soldiers don't.
+
+TARRASCH (_who has been trying the bedroom door_).
+
+In the meantime, what have you got behind that door? Give me the key.
+
+RADA (_hurriedly, and as if misunderstanding him, opens the cupboard.
+She speaks excitedly_).
+
+Food! Food! Food for hungry men. Food enough for a wolf pack. Come on.
+Help yourselves!
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+Look, Brander! What a larder! Here's a dinner for forty men. Isn't it?
+
+RADA.
+
+Better take your pick before the others come.
+
+ (_She thrusts dishes into BRANDER'S hands and loads TARRASCH with
+   bottles. They lay the table with them, RADA seeming to share their
+   eagerness._)
+
+BRANDER (_looking at his hands_).
+
+Here! Bring me a basin of warm water. There are times when you can't
+touch food without washing your hands.
+
+ (_RADA hesitates, then goes into the kitchen. BRANDER holds out a
+   ring to TARRASCH._)
+
+    Her husband's ring. I got it off his finger
+    When he went down. He lay there, doubled up,
+    With one of those hideous belly wounds. He begged,
+    Horribly, for a bullet; so, poor devil,
+    I put him out of his misery. I can't eat
+    With hands like that. Ugh! Look!
+
+NANKO (_rising and peering at them_).
+
+                                    Ah, but they're red.
+    Red, aren't they? And there's red on your coat, too.
+
+ (_He fingers it curiously._)
+
+    I suppose that's blood, eh? People are such cowards.
+    Many of them never seem to understand
+    That man's a fighting animal. They're afraid,
+    Dreadfully afraid, of the sight of blood.
+    I think it's a beautiful colour, beautiful!
+    You know, in the Old Testament, they used
+    To splash it on the door-posts.
+
+BRANDER (_pushing him away_).
+
+                                  Go and sit down,
+    You crazy old devil!
+
+ (_RADA enters with a bowl of water, sets it on a chair, and returns to
+   the couch. BRANDER washes his hands._)
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+                        My hands want washing, too.
+    My God, you've turned the water into wine.
+    Get me some fresh.
+
+ (_RADA approaches, stares at the bowl, and moves back, swaying a
+   little._)
+
+BRANDER (_roughly_).
+
+    I'll empty it. Give it to me.
+
+ (_He goes out._)
+
+NANKO.
+
+    The Old Testament, you know, is full of it.
+    _Who is this_, it says, _that cometh from Edom,
+    In dyed garments from Bozrah?_ It was blood
+    That dyed their garments. And in _Revelation_
+    Blood came out of the wine-press, till it splashed
+    The bridles of the horses; and the seas
+    Were all turned into blood. Doesn't that show
+    That man's a fighting animal?
+
+TARRASCH (_again fumbling at the bedroom door_).
+
+    Give me the key.
+
+RADA (_thrusting herself between him and the door_).
+
+    That is my bedroom. You must not go in.
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+    Are they so modest, then, in Belgium, madam?
+    You're fooling us. What is it? Loot? More loot?
+    The family stocking, eh?
+
+ (_BRANDER enters. He goes to the table and begins eating._)
+
+NANKO.
+
+                            The stocking? No!
+    The stocking is in the chimney-corner, see.
+
+ (_He shakes an empty stocking that hangs in the fire-place._)
+
+    Bettine and I, we always hang it up
+    Ready for Santa Claus. It's a good custom.
+    They do it in Germany. The children there
+    Believe that Santa Claus comes down the chimney.
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+    If I know anything of women's eyes,
+    It's either money, or a daughter, Rada.
+    And so--the key! Or else I burst the door.
+
+RADA (_looks at him for a moment before speaking_).
+
+    I throw myself upon your mercy, then.
+    It _is_ my little girl. She is twelve years old.
+    Don't wake her. She has slept all through this night.
+    I thought I might have hidden her. It's too late.
+    It's of the other men that I'm afraid.
+    Not you. But they are drunk. If they come back....
+    Help me to save her! I'll do anything for you,
+    Anything! Only help me to get her away!
+    I'll pray for you every night of my life. I'll pray....
+
+ (_She stretches out her hands pitifully and begins to weep. The men
+   stand staring at her. The door opens behind her, and BETTINE, in
+   her night-dress, steals into the room._)
+
+BETTINE.
+
+Mother----Oh!
+
+ (_She stops at the sight of the strangers._)
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    Don't be afraid. I'm Nanko's friend.
+    What? Don't you know me? I came down the chimney.
+
+BETTINE.
+
+    I don't see any soot upon your face.
+
+ (_She goes nearer._)
+
+    Nor on your clothes. That's red paint, isn't it?
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    Can't help it. Santa Claus--that is my name.
+    What's yours?
+
+BETTINE.
+
+    Bettine.
+
+BRANDER.
+
+                        Ah! I've a little girl
+    At home--about your age, too--called Bettine.
+
+BETTINE (_who has been watching him curiously_).
+
+    I know. You are the British. Mother said
+    The British would be here before the Boches.
+    I dreamed that you were coming, and I thought
+    I heard the marching. Weren't you singing, too?
+    It made me feel so happy in my sleep.
+    What were you singing? "It's a long, long way
+    To----" what d'you call it? _Tipperary_? eh?
+    What does that mean?
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    A place a long way off.
+
+BETTINE.
+
+    As far as heaven?
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    Almost as far as--home.
+
+BETTINE.
+
+    Well, I suppose it means the Boches must march
+    A long, long way before they reach it, eh?
+    There's Canada. They'll have to march through that.
+    Then India, and that's huge. Why, Nanko says
+    There are three hundred million people there,
+    And all their soldiers ride on elephants.
+    Poor Boches! I'm sorry for them. Nanko says
+    They're trying to ride across two thousand years
+    In motor-cars. It's easy enough to ride
+    Two thousand miles; but not two thousand years.
+
+ (_She runs to the stocking and examines it. TARRASCH and BRANDER
+   return to the table and eat and drink._)
+
+    There's nothing in the stocking. Never mind,
+    Nanko, when Christmas really comes, you'll see.
+
+ (_With a sudden note of fear in her voice._)
+
+    Mother, where's father?
+
+RADA (_putting an arm round her_).
+
+                          He will soon be with us.
+    It's all right, darling.
+
+BETTINE.
+
+                            Mother, mayn't we try
+    The new tunes on the gramophone?
+
+NANKO.
+
+                                    Now, wait!
+    I've an idea. It's Christmas Eve, you know.
+    We'll celebrate it. Where's the Christmas-tree?
+    We'll get that ready first.
+
+ (_BETTINE pulls the little Christmas-tree out from the corner. RADA
+   glances from the child to the men, as if hoping that her play will
+   win them to help her._)
+
+BETTINE.
+
+                              It's nearly a week,
+    Isn't it, Nanko, since you had your tree?
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    Here, put it on the table.
+
+NANKO (_clapping his hands_).
+
+                              Yes, that's best.
+    I fear that we shall want a new tree, soon.
+    This one is withered. See how the needles drop.
+    There's no green left. It's growing old, Bettine.
+    What shall we hang on it?
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+                            What d' you think
+    Of that now? (_He hangs his revolver on the tree._)
+
+BETTINE (_laughing merrily_).
+
+                Oh! Oh! What a great big pistol!
+    That'll be father's present! And now what else?
+
+NANKO (_eagerly_).
+
+    What else?
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    Well, what do you say to a ring, Bettine?
+    How prettily it hangs upon the bough!
+    Isn't that fine? (_He hangs the ring upon the tree._)
+
+BETTINE (_staring at it_).
+
+    It's just like father's ring!
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+    Now light the candles. Isn't it?
+
+NANKO (_clapping his hands and capering_).
+
+                                    Yes, that's right!
+    Light all the little candles on the tree!
+    Oh, doesn't the pistol shine, doesn't the ring
+    Glitter!
+
+BETTINE.
+
+            But oh, it _is_ like father's ring.
+    He had a little piece of mother's hair
+    Plaited inside it, just like that. It _is_
+    My father's ring.
+
+RADA.
+
+                    No; there are many others,
+    Bettine, just like it, hundreds, hundreds of others.
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    And now--what's in that package over there?
+
+BETTINE.
+
+    Oh, that's the new tunes for the gramophone.
+    That's father's Christmas present to us all.
+
+NANKO.
+
+    Now, what a wonderful man the doctor was!
+    Nobody else, in these parts, would have thought
+    Of buying a gramophone. Let's open it.
+
+BETTINE.
+
+    Yes! Yes! And we'll give father a surprise!
+    It shall be playing a tune when he comes in!
+    He won't be angry, will he, mumsy dear?
+
+ (_BRANDER opens the package. NANKO rubs his hands in delight. They get
+   the gramophone ready._)
+
+NANKO.
+
+    Oh, this will be a merry Christmas Eve.
+    There now--just see how this kind gentleman
+    Has opened the package for us. Now you see
+    The good of war. It benefits the health.
+    Sets a man up. Look at old Peter's legs,
+    He's a disgrace to the village, a disgrace!
+    Nobody shoots him either, so he spoils
+    Everything; for you know, you must admit,
+    Bettine, that war means natural selection--
+    Survival of the fittest, don't you see?
+    For instance, _I_ survive, and _you_ survive:
+    Don't we? So Peter shouldn't spoil it all.
+    They say that all the tall young men in France
+    Were killed in the Napoleonic wars,
+    So that most Frenchmen at the present day
+    Are short and fat. Isn't that funny, Bettine?
+
+ (_She laughs._)
+
+    Which shows us that tall men are not required
+    To-day. So nobody knows. Perhaps thin legs
+    Like Peter's _may_ be useful, after all,
+    In aeroplanes, or something. Every ounce
+    Makes a great difference there. Nobody knows.
+    It's natural selection. See, Bettine?
+    Ah, now the gramophone's ready. Make it play
+    A Christmas tune. That's what the churches do
+    On Christmas Eve: for all the churches now,
+    And all the tall cathedrals with their choirs,
+    What do you think they are, Bettine? I'll tell you.
+    I'll whisper it. _They're great big gramophones!_
+
+ (_She laughs._)
+
+    Now for a Christmas tune!
+
+TARRASCH (_adjusting a record_).
+
+                            There's irony
+    In your idea, my friend, that would delight
+    The ghost of Nietzsche! Certainly, it shall play
+    A Christmas tune. Here is the very thing.
+
+ (_There is an uproar of drunken shouts in the distance._ BRANDER
+   _locks the outer door._)
+
+BETTINE.
+
+    The inn is full of drunken men to-night,
+    Mother. D' you hear them? Mother, was it an inn
+    Like that--the one that's in my Christmas piece?
+
+BRANDER (_to TARRASCH_).
+
+    Don't do it, we've had irony enough.
+    Don't start it playing, if you want to keep
+    This Christmas party to ourselves, my boy.
+    The men are mad with drink, and--other things.
+    Look here, Tarrasch, what are we going to do
+    About this youngster, eh?
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+                            Better keep quiet
+    Till morning. When the men have slept it off
+    They'll stand a better chance of slipping away.
+    They're all drunk, officers and men as well.
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    That's the most merciful thing that one can say.
+
+NANKO.
+
+    Oh, what a pity! I did think, Bettine,
+    That we should have some music. Well--I know!
+    Tell us the Christmas piece you learned in school.
+    That's right. Stand there! No, stand up on this bench.
+    Your mother tells me that you won the prize
+    For learning it so beautifully, Bettine.
+    That's right. Now, while you say it, I will stand
+    Here, with a candle. See, that illustrates
+    The scene.
+
+ (_He lifts one of the candles to illuminate the picture of the
+   Madonna and child. For a moment he speaks with a curious dignity._)
+
+              You know it is not all delusion
+    About this Christmas Eve. The wise men say
+    That Time is a delusion. Now then, speak
+    Your Christmas piece.
+
+BETTINE (_with her hands behind her, as if in school, she obeys him_).
+
+She laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
+
+And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field,
+keeping watch over their flock by night,
+
+And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord
+shone round about them, and they were sore afraid.
+
+And the angel said unto them, "Fear not: for behold I bring you good
+tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
+
+"For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Saviour, which is
+Christ the Lord.
+
+"And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in
+swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."
+
+And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,
+praising God, and saying:--
+
+"_Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace...._"
+
+ (_There is silence for a moment, then a pistol-shot, a scream, and a
+   roar of drunken laughter without, followed by a furious pounding on
+   the door. BETTINE runs to her mother._)
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    Here, Tarrasch, what the devil are we to do
+    About this child?
+
+ (_He calls through the door._)
+
+                    Clear out of this! The house
+    Is full. We want to sleep.
+
+ (_The uproar grows outside, and the pounding is resumed. There is a
+   crash of broken glass at the window._)
+
+BETTINE.
+
+                              Mother, I'm frightened!
+    It is the Boches! Mother, it is the Boches!
+    Where are the British, mother? You said the British
+    Were sure to be here first!
+
+BRANDER.
+
+                              Bundle the child
+    Into that room, woman, at once!
+
+ (_RADA snatches the revolver from the Christmas-tree and hurries
+   BETTINE into the bedroom just as the other door is burst open and a
+   troop of soldiers appear on the threshold, shouting and furious with
+   drink. They sing, with drunken gestures, in the doorway:_)
+
+    "Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutscher Rhein...."
+
+FIRST SOLDIER.
+
+                                              Come on!
+    They're in that room. I saw them! The only skirts
+    Left in the village. Comrades, you've had your fun--
+    It's time for ours.
+
+BRANDER.
+
+                      Clear out of this. You're drunk.
+    We want to sleep.
+
+SECOND SOLDIER.
+
+    Well, hand the women over.
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+    There are no women here.
+
+FIRST SOLDIER.
+
+                            You greedy wolf,
+    I saw them.
+
+NANKO.
+
+    Come! Come! Come! It's Christmas Eve!
+
+[Illustration: THE VAMPIRE]
+
+SECOND SOLDIER.
+
+    Well, if there are no petticoats, where's the harm
+    In letting us poor soldiers take a squint
+    Through yonder door? By God, we'll do it, too!
+    Come on, my boys.
+
+ (_They make a rush towards the room._)
+
+NANKO.
+
+                    Be careful, or you'll smash
+    The Christmas-tree! You'll smash the gramophone!
+
+ (_A soldier tries the bedroom door. It is opened from within, and RADA
+   appears on the threshold with the revolver in her hand._)
+
+FIRST SOLDIER.
+
+    Liars! Liars!
+
+RADA.
+
+                There is one woman here,
+    One woman and a child....
+    And war, they tell me, is a noble thing.
+    It is the mother of heroic deeds,
+    The nurse of honour, manhood.
+
+SECOND SOLDIER.
+
+    God, a speech!
+
+NANKO (_who is hugging his Christmas-tree near the fire again_).
+
+    Certainly, Rada! You will not deny
+    That life's a battle.
+
+RADA.
+
+                        You hear, drunk as you are,
+    Up to your necks in blood, you hear this fool,
+    This poor old fool, piping his dreary cry.
+    And through his lips, and through his softening brain,
+    The men that use you, cheat you, drive you out
+    To slaughter and be slaughtered, teach the world
+    That this black vampire, sucking at our breasts,
+    Is good. Men! Men! The pestilence of your dead
+    Is murdering you by legions. All the trains
+    Of quicklime that your Emperor sends behind you
+    Can never eat its way through all that flesh--
+    Three hundred miles of dead! Your dead!
+
+FIRST SOLDIER.
+
+                                          Hoch! Hoch!
+    A speech!
+
+ (_They make a movement towards her, which she arrests by raising the
+   revolver._)
+
+RADA.
+
+            I do not hate! I pity you all.
+    I tell you, you are doing it in a dream.
+    You are drugged. You are not awake.
+
+NANKO.
+
+                I have sometimes thought
+    The very same.
+
+RADA.
+
+                  But you will wake one day.
+    Listen! If you have children of your own,
+    Listen to me ... the child is twelve years old.
+    She has never had one hard word spoken to her
+    In all her life.
+
+SECOND SOLDIER.
+
+                    Nor shall she now, by God!
+    Where is she? Bring her out!
+
+FIRST SOLDIER.
+
+                                Twelve years of age?
+    Add two, because her mother loves her so!
+    That's ripe enough for marriage to a soldier.
+
+ (_They laugh uproariously, and sing again mockingly_:)
+
+    "Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutscher Rhein!"
+
+ (_They move forward again._)
+
+RADA (_raising the revolver_).
+
+    One word. If you are deaf to honour, blind
+    To truth, and if compassion cannot reach you,
+    Then I appeal to fear! Yes, you shall fear me.
+    Listen! I heard, when I was in that room,
+    A sound like gun-fire, coming from the south:
+    What if it were the British?
+
+SOLDIERS.
+
+                                Ah! The swine!
+    The dogs!
+
+RADA.
+
+    Bull-dogs; and slow. But they are coming,
+    And, where they hold, they never will let go.
+    Though they may come too late for me and mine,
+    You are on your trial now before the world.
+    You never can escape it. They are coming,
+    With justice and the unconquerable law!
+    I warn you, though their speech is not my own,
+    And I shall be but one of all the dead,
+    Dead, with that child, in a forgotten grave--
+    I speak for them, and they will keep my word.
+    Yes, if you harm that child ... the British.... Ah!
+
+ (_They advance towards her._)
+
+    I have one bullet for the child and five
+    To share between you and myself.
+
+FIRST SOLDIER.
+
+                                    Come on!
+    She can't shoot! Look at the way she's holding it!
+    Duck down, and make a rush for it.
+
+SOLDIERS.
+
+    Come on!
+
+ (_They make a rush. RADA steps back into the bedroom and shuts the
+   door in their faces._)
+
+SECOND SOLDIER.
+
+    Locked out in the cold. Come, break the damned thing down!
+
+BETTINE (_crying within_).
+
+    O British! British! Come! Come quickly, British!
+
+BRANDER (_trying to interpose_).
+
+    She'll keep her word. You'll never get 'em alive.
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+    Never. I know that kind. You'd better clear out.
+
+FIRST SOLDIER.
+
+    Down with the door!
+
+ (_They put their shoulders to it. BRANDER makes a sign to TARRASCH.
+   They try to pull the men back. There is a scuffle and BRANDER is
+   knocked over. He rises with the blood running down his face, while
+   TARRASCH still struggles. The door begins to give. A shot is heard
+   within. The men pause and there is another shot._)
+
+BRANDER.
+
+    By God, she's done it!
+
+ (_There is a booming of distant artillery._)
+
+                          Hear!
+    She was not lying. That came from the south-west.
+    It is the British!
+
+ (_A bugle-call sounds in the village street._)
+
+TARRASCH.
+
+    The British! A night-attack!
+
+ (_They all rush out except NANKO, who peers after them from the door.
+   Leaving it open to the night, he takes a _marron glacé_ from the
+   table, crosses the room, and begins to examine the gramophone._
+
+ _Confused sounds of men rushing to arms, thin bugle-calls in the
+   distance, and the occasional clatter of a galloping horse blow in
+   from the blackness framed in the open door. The deep pulsation of
+   the British artillery is heard throughout, in a steady undertone._)
+
+NANKO (_calling aloud as he munches_).
+
+    Come, Rada, you're pretending. They're all gone.
+    Rada, these _marrons glacés_ are delicious.
+    It's over now! Come, I don't think it's right
+    To spoil a person's pleasure on Christmas Eve.
+
+ (_He tiptoes to the door and peers into the night._)
+
+    Come quick, Bettine, rockets are going up!
+    They are breaking into clusters of green stars!
+    Oh, there's a red one! You could see for miles
+    When that one broke. The willow-trees jumped out
+    Like witches; and, between them, the canal
+    Dwindled away to a little thread of blood.
+    And there were lines of men running and falling,
+    And guns and horses floundering in a ditch.
+    Oh, Rada! there's a bonfire by the mill.
+    They've burned the little cottage.
+        There's a man
+    Hanging above the bonfire by his hands,
+    And heaps of dead all round him.
+        Come and see!
+    It's terrible, but it's magnificent,
+    Like one of Goya's pictures. That's the way
+    _He_ painted war. Well, everybody's gone....
+    To think _I_ was the fittest, after all!
+
+ (_He returns to the gramophone._)
+
+    I wonder how this gramophone does work.
+    He said the tune that he was putting in
+    Was just the thing for Christmas Eve.
+        I wonder,
+    I wonder what it was. Listen to this!
+
+ (_He reads the title._)
+
+    It's a good omen, Rada--_A Christmas carol
+    Sung by the Grand Imperial Choir_--d' you hear?--
+    _At midnight in St. Petersburg_--_Adeste
+    Fideles!_ Fancy that! A Christmas carol
+    Upon the gramophone!
+    So all the future ages will be sure
+    To know exactly what religion was.
+    To think we must not hear it! Rada, they say
+    The Angel Gabriel composed that tune
+    On the first Christmas Eve. So don't you think
+    That we might hear it?
+    Everybody is gone, except the dead.
+    It will not wake them....
+    Come, Rada, you're pretending! Do not make
+    The war more dreadful than it really is.
+
+ (_He accidentally sets the gramophone working and jumps back, a little
+   alarmed. He runs to the bedroom door._)
+
+    Rada! I've started it! Bettine, d' you hear?
+    The gramophone's working.
+
+ (_The artillery booms like a thunder-peal in the distance. Then the
+   gramophone drowns it with the massed voices of the Imperial Choir
+   singing_:)
+
+    ADESTE FIDELES,
+    LÆTI TRIUMPHANTES,
+        ADESTE, ADESTE IN BETHLEHEM!
+        NATUM VIDETE
+        REGEM ANGELORUM:
+        VENITE, ADOREMUS,
+        VENITE, ADOREMUS,
+        VENITE, ADOREMUS DOMINUM.
+
+ (NANKO _touches the floor under the door of the bedroom and stares at
+   his hand._)
+
+NANKO.
+
+    Something red again? Trickling under the door?
+    Blood, I suppose....
+
+ (_A look of horror comes into his face as he stands listening to the
+   music. Then, as if slowly waking from a dream and almost as if
+   sanity had returned for a moment, he cries_:)
+
+    It's true! It's true! Rada, I am awake!
+    I am awake! And, in the name of Christ,
+    I accuse, I accuse ... O God, forgive us all!
+
+ (_He falls on his knees by the bedroom door and calls, as if to the
+   dead within_:)
+
+    Awake, and after nineteen hundred years....
+    Bettine, Bettine! the British, they are coming!
+    Rada, you said it--they are coming quickly!
+    They are coming, with the reign of right and law.
+    But, O Bettine! Bettine! will they remember?
+    Are they awake? I only hear their guns.
+    What if they should grow used to it, Bettine,
+    And fail to wipe this horror from the world?
+    God, is there any hope for poor mankind?
+    God, are Thy little nations and Thy weak,
+    Thine innocent, condemned to hell for ever?
+    God, will the strong deliverers break the sword
+    And bring this world at last to Christmas Eve?
+
+THE IMPERIAL CHOIR.
+
+        ÆTERNI PARENTIS
+        SPLENDOREM ÆTERNUM,
+    VELATUM SUB CARNE VIDEBIMUS,
+        DEUM INFANTEM,
+        PANNIS INVOLUTUM,
+    VENITE, ADOREMUS,
+    VENITE, ADOREMUS,
+    VENITE, ADOREMUS DOMINUM.
+
+NANKO.
+
+    Will Christ be born, oh, not in Bethlehem,
+    But in the soul of man, the abode of God?
+    There, in that deep, undying soul of man
+    (I still believe it), that immortal soul,
+    Will they lift up the cross with Christ upon it,
+    The Fool of God, whom intellectual fools,
+    The little fools of dust, in every land,
+    Grinning their _What is Truth?_ still crucify.
+    Could they not thrust their hands into His wounds?
+    His wounds are these--these dead are all His wounds.
+    Bettine! Bettine! the British, they are coming!
+    But you are silent now, so silent now!
+    Will they lift up God's poor old broken Fool,
+    And sleep no more until His kingdom come,
+    His infinite kingdom come?
+                      Will they remember?
+
+ (_He bows his head against the closed door, while the gramophone lifts
+   the chorus of the Imperial Choir over the deepening thunder of the
+   guns_:)
+
+    NUNC CANTET, EXULTANS,
+    CHORUS ANGELORUM,
+    CANTET NUNC AULA CELESTIUM
+    GLORIA, GLORIA,
+    IN EXCELSIS DEO!
+    VENITE, ADOREMUS,
+    VENITE, ADOREMUS,
+    VENITE, ADOREMUS DOMINUM.
+
+
+
+
+INTERCESSION
+
+
+    Now the muttering gun-fire dies,
+      Now the night has cloaked the slain,
+    Now the stars patrol the skies,
+      Hear our sleepless prayer again!
+    They who work their country's will,
+    Fight and die for Britain still,
+    Soldiers, but not haters, know
+    _Thou_ must pity friend and foe.
+            Therefore hear,
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer.
+
+    Thou whose wounded Hands do reach
+      Over every land and sea,
+    Thoughts too deep for human speech
+      Rise from all our souls to Thee;
+    Deeper than the wrath that burns
+    Round our hosts when day returns;
+    Deeper than the peace that fills
+    All these trenched and waiting hills.
+            Hear, O hear!
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer.
+
+    Pity deeper than the grave
+      Sees, beyond the death we wield,
+    Faces of the young and brave
+      Hurled against us in the field.
+    Cannon-fodder! They _must_ come,
+    We must slay them, and be dumb,
+    Slaughter, while we pity, these
+    Most implacable enemies.
+            Master, hear,
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer.
+
+    They are blind, as we are blind,
+      Urged by duties past reply.
+    Ours is but the task assigned;
+      Theirs to strike us ere they die.
+    Who can see his country fall?
+    Who but answers at her call?
+    Who has power to pause and think
+    When she reels upon the brink?
+            Hear, O hear,
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer.
+
+    Shield them from that bitterest lie
+      Laughed by fools who quote their mirth,
+    When the wings of death go by
+      And their brother shrieks on earth.
+    Though they clamp their hearts with steel,
+    Conquering _every_ fear they feel.
+    There are dreams they dare not tell.
+    Shield, O shield, their eyes from hell.
+            Father, hear,
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer.
+
+    Where the naked bodies burn,
+      Where the wounded toss at home,
+    Weep and bleed and laugh in turn,
+      Yes, the masking jest may come.
+    Let him jest who daily dies.
+    But O hide his haunted eyes.
+    Pain alone he might control.
+    Shield, O shield his wounded soul.
+            Master, hear,
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer.
+
+    Peace? We steel us to the end.
+      Hope betrayed us, long ago.
+    Duty binds both foe and friend.
+      It is ours to break the foe.
+    Then, O God! that we might break
+    This red Moloch for Thy sake;
+    Know that Truth indeed prevails,
+    And that Justice holds the scales.
+            Father, hear,
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer.
+
+    England, could this awful hour,
+      Dawning on thy long renown,
+    Mark the purpose of thy power,
+      Crown thee with that mightier crown!
+    Broadening to that purpose climb
+    All the blood-red wars of Time....
+    Set the struggling peoples free,
+    Crown with Law their Liberty!
+            England, hear,
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer!
+
+    Speed, O speed what every age
+      Writes with a prophetic hand.
+    Read the midnight's moving page,
+      Read the stars and understand:
+    _Out of Chaos ye shall draw
+    Deepening harmonies of Law,
+    Till around the Eternal Sun
+    All your peoples move in one._
+            Christ-God, hear,
+    Both for foe and friend, our prayer.
+
+
+
+
+                           The Gresham Press
+                        UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED
+                           WOKING AND LONDON
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rada, by Alfred Noyes
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44829 ***